Disclaimer: I don't own The 100. Everything belongs to whoever owns them, my wishful thinking aside.

Authors Note #1: a tumblr anon asked for Kabby: "bite" – My brain went on an epic journey with this one and I was emotional about Sinclair at the time the idea struck so that's probably the reason more than half of this fic exists, hope you like anyway, anon! – Set Season Three, post Pike (au!Lincoln lives) but without any Allie nonsense – (therefore au!Sinclair lives). Keep in mind that I used this virus as a sort of foil/comparison component to the Allie/chipped!part of season three.

Warnings: vampire!Marcus (kind of), vampire!Sinclair (kind of), vampires but not vampires- so think like, the fangs part but really just wanna spread the disease everywhere kind of vampires, dub-con like leanings but nothing major – mentioning mostly just to cover my butt here, mild sexual content, adult language.

Dwale

Chapter One

"Are we sure this is going to work?" Bellamy asked again, skeptical and with good reason as they clustered around the monitors. Watching the feeds for any sign of Sinclair or Marcus as she sat ram-rod straight in her seat. Bleeding stress through the clench of her finger nails as the orange plastic warped under her palms – sweating.

"Are we sure this is what they have? This…disease?" he continued, looking at Clarke expectantly, but finding nothing but a shrug and her daughter's usual calm expression. "Because honestly, I have to tell you that even for the Ground, this all seems a bit far-"

"Can someone just say it?" Jasper blurted, rubbing his shorn head excitedly. Baring his teeth like fangs and crossing his arms over his chest like he was Nosferatu rising from his coffin in the old black and white movie. "Vampires! Like full on I 'vant to suck your blo-"

"Jasper, we've been over this," Jackson replied patiently, but with the crinkles around his eyes looking decidedly strained at this point. "It's a blood born pathogen that alters your DNA so that-"

The radio clicked, heralding a transmission from Octavia, Lincoln and Indra. Clearly listening in as they rode back to Arcadia on horseback. Keeping track of Sinclair's movements as he sped far ahead of them. Moving faster than any human – any horse – was ever meant to.

"Indra's scouts confirmed that one of the women from their village who was with Kane and Sinclair already attempted to return to her family to turn them," Octavia said, connection cutting in and out as the sound of galloping hooves turned almost deafening. Making her picture Octavia ducking close to her mount's neck to avoid something – maybe a branch. "We're still about three miles out, he's going to beat us there, so be ready."

She grabbed the receiver from Clarke's hand, blind to the raised brow the action earned her as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Willing her voice to steady as the temptation to give in and just collapse against the desk grew harder and harder to ignore. She hadn't slept since they'd lost contact with the survey party. She'd been on the radio with Marcus when it'd happened. One moment they'd been discussing the site's potential for future expansion and the next- a hair-raising scream issued from outside his tent. Warbling and animal-wild as Marcus whispered something unintelligible, the snaps of his thigh holster echoing before the transmission cut off. She tried to reach him a hundred times, but it wasn't until Indra sent a group of warriors to find out what happened, that they found the wreckage. All five of their guards were dead, drained at the neck, along with two of Indra's people who'd been acting as guides. Sinclair, Marcus and over half a dozen Grounders were still missing.

"Is there any sign of Marcus?"

There was a pause, static spitting across the line before-

"No. Not yet," Octavia answered, strain entering the last syllable. Expelling a gust of air and a quiet oof that crackled across the line, making the others wince at the pitch. "We had scouts were in the trees when Sinclair crossed back into Trikru territory."

She nodded, keeping it together. Compartmentalizing. Telling herself it was a good thing that Sinclair was heading home. It meant that Marcus was probably on his way as well. They'd been together when it'd happened. They hadn't seen any sign of them at the survey camp. So if the Grounders that'd been with them were starting to return home, that meant there was no reason why Marcus wasn't going to do the same.

"How does he look?" she asked, exchanging looks with Jackson and Clarke as the microbe responsible for this whole mess spun slowly across the screen of Jackson's data pad.

"Honestly? You're going to have to see it to believe it. Tell Raven she's going to have her work cut out for her when he gets here."

As it turned out, Sinclair didn't beat them there.

They arrived with foaming horses and dirt-streaked faces, weapons drawn. But the feeds showed nothing. By their estimates he should have been there an hour ago. The disparity had everyone on edge, but Indra and Lincoln were unconcerned. Confident that all would go according to plan. Remarking that since Sinclair was a man of great intellect, despite the pull of his new instincts, it was likely he was circling the boundary wall. Keeping just out of sight of the cameras and trying to formulate a strategy.

Raven had just laughed over the radio when they'd told her. Urging her to stay where she was – bait – until he finally made an appearance. Her sarcasm thick – thick enough to almost drown out the worry – when she asked them if they honestly expected anything less.

For her part, she took the opportunity to grill the two of them for information up close. Unable to shake the feeling that despite analyzing the microbe and increasing the effectiveness of the cure Indra's people had provided them with, this entire thing still had them flying blind.

"So, we know the virus drives you not only to feed on fresh blood but to spread the disease to other hosts," she started, pacing. Opening with what they knew as Indra nodded. Looking up from inspecting her sword as Lincoln and Octavia spoke in low voices with Clarke and Bellamy in the far corner.

"That is the primary side-effect of the virus, the need to replicate itself. It isn't unusual, most viruses have that component in some shape or form, but it's the targeted method that is unique here. I don't see evidence for why those who are infected are so selective in who they turn. If anything it should be random, rabid. There can't be any evolutionary advantage this way," she set out, struggling with it. Trying to make sense of something the Grounders accepted as an element of the supernatural. Not as a virus that should have the same basic structure as every other virus out there.

Jackson sent her a commiserating look, just as stumped as she was.

"The curse changes you. Your strength, speed, senses, they are all heightened. And there is a wildness in your blood, like they have the power of the Earth in their veins," Indra shared, eyes distant.

"I have seen this before. When I was a girl, our healer was infected by her eldest son. Our warriors were able to tie her down with thick ropes and rocks as weights, keeping her arms pinned at her sides, immobilized under soft blankets before she turned. By the time the healer from the next village arrived to treat her, she was almost free of her bindings. Tearing them with brute strength of the like I have never seen. She was no warrior. A woman that believed in gentleness and peace. Who never once raised her hand against another. Yet she became something else – savage and powerful. Capable of terrible things, terrible acts."

Jasper fidgeted, pointedly. Knee jiggling. Mouth opening to say something before Jackson cut in swiftly from his seat at the center console.

"There has to be a better way to administer the cure," he remarked, puzzled. "If not now but for any future cases. If there was ever a widespread outbreak, given the cramped conditions in camp, logistically this wouldn't work."

"My people have tried many different methods over the years. Our darts containing the cure did nothing – they could be removed from the skin too quickly. It must be face to face. Close range. Your injection darts would be the same," Indra answered bluntly.

"If we had more time we could synthetize it and make it airborne," she suggested, fingers itching to be useful rather than all this hurry up and waiting they were doing. The only problem was the best person for that job was currently infected himself.

Sinclair.

"You would still need to involve the people they most value," Indra negated as she shook her head, sheathing her sword as Lincoln and Octavia came to stand beside her. "Otherwise what need do the cursed have to walk deliberately into a trap? Even now, your Sinclair is aware that he is being hunted. He is a predator now. He understands. But he will come because there is someone within these walls he values more than his own life."

This time it was Lincoln that nodded, inclining his head respectfully before he spoke.

"The cure must be injected by that person. The one they love," he replied evenly, tone endearing and steady-calm as he gestured towards the monitor that showed a live feed of Raven's quarters. "That person is the only one who can hold their attention. When they give them the cure, there will be conflict. Despite their instincts – unlike with others - the infected will not risk lashing out and accidentally attacking that person. That was why our darts rarely work by themselves. If it isn't close range and done by the person they love they can pull the dart free before they get the full dose. When Sinclair returns, Raven must be ready to do what she must to ensure he receives all of it."

Origin points, patient zero and the laugh-like creases that texturized the corners of Marcus' eyes these days was almost deafening as they rebounded through her aching skull. Squeezing her eyes shut for a long moment before opening them again. Forcing herself to focus.

"But how did this start? When?"

"There are stories amongst our people, legends," Indra supplied. "Jus takers – blood takers. No one knows how they came into being. Only that it has been many years since one has crossed onto our lands. We will be doubling our patrols, I have warriors hunting the jus takers that attacked the survey mission as we speak."

"We have them too. They were entertainment, myth and superstition," Clarke broke in, frowning. "But there was no evidence they ever really existed."

Jasper clicked his tongue in disagreement, sidling in from the wings.

"That's not completely true. Okay, so- hear me out. In ancient Ireland there were these graves, right? They found a cemetery on some old dude's property, unmarked. So old the markers were gone. And inside a bunch were these bodies where someone had stuffed big rocks into their mouths. They'd twisted their legs around bigger rocks so that that couldn't get out of their graves. Some were even staked through the heart or their heart was gone completely," he babbled, shifting from foot to foot as Lincoln and Indra actually looked interested. Completely missing Bellamy's sigh as he shook his head and turned back to the monitors.

"Archeologists speculated that the reason the graves were desiccated was because the people believed that these poor bastards were vampires and would rise out of their graves and everything! It was even written down, officially. It started this vampire craze across Europe where people would put iron bars around their coffins and even go and visit places – rich people tourism, I guess – where the legends of the vampire first came from. Some old castle in-"

"At that time didn't people still believe in magic and witchcraft?" Bellamy retorted wryly, glancing up at Clarke and then at her in turn as she kept her expression flat. Clarke however, just smiled. Indulgent.

"Dude, buzzkill much?!" Jasper retorted, dangerously close to a pout until Octavia leaned over and gave him a friendly nudge. Nearly sending him flailing over the chair he was leaning on before he fixed Bellamy with a baleful look. "I'm just sayin', what if?"

"But why their loved ones?" she asked again, stuck on it. Feeling like she was finding a dozen different ways of repeating the same question as Indra turned her attention back to their conversation.

"It is not known. Not for certain. Those who have been cured have described this need in many different ways. To their fevered minds passing on this…sickness was an act of great love. One they would risk any danger, any trap. Feeling an all-consuming need to be together and to share the source of their power. Some of our fiercest warriors called it a protection. Giving their lover, their child, their family and friends the bite assured them of their safety," Indra explained, looking thoughtful as Lincoln wrapped his arm around Octavia. The mood of the room growing dark and sober.

"Despite the constant need to feed, they have no desire to drink of them. The ones they choose to give the bite are considered equals. Do you understand? This sickness is driven by love. That is why it is so dangerous. Think about it. What would we not do to keep those we treasure, safe?"

The pause was stilted.

Awkward.

Stifling.

Bellamy was the one that broke it, managing to avoid everyone's eyes as he leaned over the console and pressed a couple buttons. Shoulders hunching as everyone turned to look. Grateful for the distraction.

"You must be bored as hell. How're you doing, Raven?"

They switched to her feed on the main monitor, making sure the connection was still good. They'd kept an open com so Raven could keep track of everything going on as it happened. Just as stuck as the rest of them as the monitor showed her propped up in bed, reading. Good leg wavering back and forth as she sighed in obvious boredom.

"I'll be better when this is over," Raven answered, looking over at the camera they'd hidden in the air intake vent by the door. Wriggling her fingers in a half-hearted wave. "Any sign of him?"

"None," Clarke responded, quick on the mark as her eyes flickered over to the other consoles. Just to make sure. "But he's out there."

Raven sighed, tossing her book away.

"Look, I know we have more pressing problems here. But guys- how do we know he's coming here? For me, I mean? There has to be someone else that-"

She made a soft sound in the back of her throat. Shaking her head as she shared a private smile with the curl of her chin as Raven continued along the same vein. Not quite ready to face the love there – unconditional and clean – despite it being present beside her every single day.

When the man had been spotted by Indra's scouts, racing barefoot and wild through the forest, there'd been no doubt in her mind who Sinclair was coming for. And deep down, Raven knew it too. When Sinclair had gone missing, Raven had been halfway to one of the jeeps before a plan had even been made. Determined to go with the rescue party until Indra had filled them in on what happened and Raven had-

"There he is!" Jasper exclaimed, knocking over his chair and pointing at the console showing the outside feeds as the entire room erupted into chaos.

A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. – There will be more to come, stay tuned.

Reference:

"Dwale" is a rare word meaning: "to wander around deliriously."

"Jus Takers" – "Blood takers," in Trigedasleng.

"Think about em" – "Think about it" in Trigedasleng.