A/N: I wrote this using the prompt 'The Pumpkin Patch' on livelovewrite, a group on deviantart. I didn't finish it in time to submit it. It's not a story as such, but I might use these characters in the future. It's more of a sort of sketch of the different characters, anyways, hope you enjoy and as per usual, I return reviews.

His dark eyes flashed as he gazed around him, taking in the sight of the pumpkins and candles. The candles had been placed between the pumpkins, their flames illuminating the eerie sight of the slightly misshapen vegetables. He sighed as he ran a hand through his pitch black hair, wishing the others would hurry up.

Once a year, he thought bitterly. Why do we have to go through this?

And, he believed, surely it would better to host the meeting in a graveyard, rather than a pumpkin patch? But no, Jacoby insisted they have it here, where, during the night, no one would interrupt them.

Slowly, he raised a finger to his lips, curling them back and feeling the teeth that grew there. He smiled to himself. Sharp as ever. Good. It would surprise most mortals, but for Scott York it was actually very difficult to keep the fangs sharp enough to actually pierce skin with little effort. A few times, he'd forgotten to sharpen them and found himself in a perilous situation; if they weren't sharp enough, it took longer to feed, and if you had a hunter on your tail, well, Scott had been lucky to escape alive.

"York." The voice made him whirl around, and he chuckled at the sly appearance of Jacoby. "Glad you could make it, old friend."

"You know I can never miss this," Scott hissed, crossing his arms. Jacoby's skin glowed ever so slightly. Not enough that mortals would actually notice, but for Scott, the differences between Jacoby and humans were so painfully obvious. Most people would just pass him in the street without a second thought, if they could see him at all.

Jacoby gave off an aura, and that was the only way Scott could think of to describe him. He shimmered, he glowed, and his voice was so obviously not from that era. Scott had learnt to blend in with the ever changing world, had learnt to hide in plain sight. Jacoby was never given that choice.

"Is Shane coming?" Scott asked, wincing as Jacoby nodded.

"Of course he is. Are you still feuding?"

"Not exactly," Scott shrugged. "We just need...I don't know. Excitement, sometimes. And where would the mortals be if they didn't have the legends of the feuds?"

"It is mostly..." he paused. "What do they say now? Bull, shit?"

Scott laughed. "Yes, friend, bullshit. But still, it's fun, for us anyway. What about the shaman? Will he be gracing us with his presence?" The word shaman was said with bitterness. Scott disliked the man, who could control the dead and raise them at his will. He hated the way he demanded respect from them all, despite the fact that he was more than three hundred years Scott's junior. At least Shane, despite their differences, acknowledged the age difference.

"We go through this every year, York," Jacoby sighed. "Yes, the shaman is coming. They are all coming, and..."

He paused, head snapping around as he stared at the dark woods that surrounded the pumpkin patch. Scott rubbed a finger over one of his fangs, shaking his head.

"Stay calm, Jack," he muttered. "It's just Shane."

Jacoby relaxed, frowning at Scott as a dark shape bounded from the woods. The four legged creature's fur was dark brown, flecks of silver giving off an odd, eerie glow in the moonlight. As it came closer, the wolf reared up on its back legs. Its muzzle grew smaller, the fur receded and the limbs changed. Scott slid back from the human-shape that approached. Scott curled his lips back, hissing at the figure.

"Give it a break, Scott," Shane muttered, running a hand through his dark hair which, like the fur, was streaked with silver. His eyes were bright green, unnatural, and Scott shook his head at the display, glancing towards Jacoby.

"Behind that one," he explained, gesturing to one of the larger pumpkins. Scott took a few strides towards it, pulled out a bag and threw it to Shane.

"Get dressed," he mumbled, half-turning away. "I hate naked men."

"I thought you fangs were all bi?" Shane chuckled, pulling on the clothes he withdrew from the bag.

"Stupid writers and their bloody fantasies," Scott snapped. "We have the same sexual desires as you filthy humans...well, with the exception of your bestiality."

"Is it bestiality if it's between two animals?" Shane queried. "And you sleep with humans, technically you shag your food so don't criticise us of bestiality, fang."

Scott burst into laughter then, stepping forward and embracing Shane in a tight hug. "It is good to see you again, old friend."

Shane chuckled as he pulled away. "Likewise. Are we waiting for the shaman?"

"Yes," Jacoby glided forward, sighing as he did so. "He should arrive before Frank and Lucinda, I should think."

"Ugh, Lucinda," Scott growled. "How I hate that bitch."

"Careful, York."

Scott spun around at the sound of the voice, as a shape materialised out of the air. Long, blonde hair flowed down over her shoulders, and her blue eyes sparkled with humour. A simple crimson red wrap covered her body as she stepped towards the vampire. "You never know when an angel is lurking around."

"And that is why I hate you," he muttered, crossing his arms. "You sneak up on people, 'Inda. I don't like it."

"And you don't?" she laughed, shaking her head. "I would think you were master of sneaking up on people."

"I am, I just don't think its right that you do it, too. I thought you said the shaman would be here first?"

"I lied," Jacoby shrugged, eyes darting around. "Well, no. I just was unaware which would arrive first. Does it matter, York?"

Scott grumbled something, shoving his hands into his pockets as he glanced uneasily at Lucinda. "I still hate you."

"I do not care," she half-shrugged. "You vampires are the dirt of the world, Scott. Do you really think I care what one of your kind thinks?"

"Yes," he barked. "Otherwise you wouldn't help us with those interfering hunters."

"Nature's way must be preserved," she laughed. "And we can't help it if some humans try to do good in destroying you, but yes, we can stop them. Don't think I wouldn't like to see all your kind slaughtered."

Scott let out an animal-like hiss, taking a slow step towards the woman. "If I could, Lucinda, I'd set us all on you and your kind. You're lucky most of the fang-brats aren't even aware that you exist."

"Stop it." A loud voice echoed around all of those gathered in the pumpkin punch, and Scott whirled around to see a tall man with dark blue hair and a scar running from under his eye, disappearing under his shirt. His eyes were black, darker than the sky above them, and Scott shook his head.

"Great," he muttered. "Master of all that is fucked up has arrived."

The man shot forward, grabbing Scott's throat and lifting him up. Scott remained calm, glaring down at him.

"You forget, Frankie, I don't need to breathe."

"True," Frank growled. "But you do feel pain."

With that, Frank hoisted the vampire up higher, before throwing him onto his back. Scott winced as his back thumped onto the ground, ignoring the pain shooting through him.

"Show off," he muttered, as Frank stepped back and stood beside Lucinda. "Aren't you two the ones supposed to be fighting each other?"

"We go through this every year," Lucinda groaned, rubbing her forehead. "We complement each other, York. We work together, without one you cannot have the other."

"Without demons," Frank shrugged, black eyes still fixed on the vampire as he slowly pulled himself up, "you cannot have angels. And vice versa. Why would we war with each other?"

"Just wait until your precious father decides it's a good time for Armageddon," Scott slid back slightly from the pair, standing beside Shane, who remained quiet, contemplating the interaction between them. "Then you'll be at each other's throats like...like..."

"Like a werewolf and fang?" Shane finished, chuckling.

"Exactly!" Scott cried, glaring at Lucinda and Frank.

"Oh, poor fang," Frank shook his head, staring at the vampire with pity. "You've been watching too many mortal shows."

"Hey!" Scott's hand snapped up, pointing a finger at Frank. "If your kind had been subjected to the same portrayal as that bloody book, you'd love anything that took the piss out of it."

"Even if its protagonists were hunters?" Frank growled. "And for your information, are we anything like the kind they portray on there, fang?"

"No," Scott mumbled. "But still..."

"And," Lucinda cut in. "It does give mortals good tips on how to kill you."

Scott frowned, arms crossed. "Alright, so you may have a point there. I haven't seen dead man's blood used as a weapon for years before it was on that show."

"Exactly." Frank rolled his eyes. "They do get some things right."

"Who do?"

They glanced towards the entrance of the patch, where a thin, frail man stood, arms tattooed in various symbols of protection, his body adorned with signs from voodoo, jewellery and markings. He stepped forward slowly, green eyes darting from one creature to the next. In the distance, both Scott and Shane could see his 'entourage' waiting for him; a group of lumbering, half-rotting corpses he had brought back from the dead.

"Oh look," Scott rolled his eyes. "It's the bloody shaman. You taken part in any necrophilia lately, shaman?"

The shaman had never told any of them his name. None of them ever did. To them, their name was sacred, important, and not to be bestowed to anyone who wasn't trustworthy.

Scott saw it as a stupid, paranoid irrationality.

"Says the vampire," the shaman mumbled, shuffling forward until he stood beside Jacoby.

"Stop it, all of you," Jacoby shouted, gliding over towards them before coming to a stop, standing in plain view of them all. "Enough bickering. It is already midnight, we must hurry before morning."

"Who died and made you king?" Frank murmured, shaking his head.

Jacoby shot him a glare, before sighing. "The fact is, Frank, I have been around longer than any of you. I have been leader of my people..."

"Barely people," the shaman muttered.

"Of my people," he repeated, "before you took over your own positions. That gives me the authority, and you will listen to me. Right. OK. So, this year's meeting...let's see...ah, yes, check everyone is here...Vampire King, Scott York."

"Present, majesty." Scott gave a theatrical bow, causing Jacoby to glare at him.

"Stop being insolent, Scott. Right. King of the Were-creatures, Shane Adler."

"Yep," Shane barked.

"Head Shaman."

"Present, as always," the shaman drawled.

"Demon King, Frank Barr."


"And, lastly, Lucinda, Queen of the Angels."

"I'm here, Jacoby," she laughed, clearly finding the 'register' absurd.

"Good, good," he took a deep breath, "first matters first, I've got some bad news."

The others froze, staring hard at Jacoby. The ghost looked more serious than any of them had seen him in years. "What is it, Jacoby?" Lucinda asked, shuddering as a sudden gust of wind blew through the patch.

"Well..." he glanced uncertainly around, "I've received news that the hunters have got some new allies..."