Characters beloved creations of James L Parriott. No copyright infringement intended.

m/m - for the unnamed faction

"Anybody who promises you that you can have everything that you want usually wants everything that you have."
"...and that once you've given them everything, you're nothing."
- Natalie and Nicholas, "Faithful Followers"

Cast In Sand
(Missing scene from end of "Hunted")
by elfin

    Nicholas stood in the corner of his loft, watching, fascinated, as the sun's late rays shone down between the slats of the open, heavy metal blinds, on to the wooden floor. Tilting his head slightly, his eyes dark pin-points of beauty, Nick reached out pale fingers to caress the edge of the nearest ray. His touch was not quite enough to burn, but he was close, he could feel it... so close. He could reach that last millimetre and experience the agony it would bring. It would be painful, excruciatingly painful, but it would be intense, an extreme, a release.

"If you do, I swear to you Nicholas, I will break your bloody neck." Nick looked up, stunned to hear his master's voice. "Close the blinds."

"What are you doing here?" Nick's voice was a heated mixture of anger, sorrow, and an almost desperate need.

In contrast, LaCroix was calm and quiet. "Close the blinds and I'll tell you."

With only a moment's hesitation, Nick thumbed the remote in his hand and the slats turned, blocking the day from the loft completely and utterly. They were plunged into total darkness for a few moments, before he lit the candle nearest to him with practised ease. He stared at the slim, cloaked figure of his father in the dim glow the small flame provided them.

"I came to thank you, Nicholas, for an... interesting morning." LaCroix stepped further into the light, stopping by the couch, a few feet from his son. "Prolonged exposure to sunlight, blessed crosses, holy water, fire, and, I might add, garlic. I do believe one of the rules was definitely not to take garlic internally."

Nick regarded LaCroix, resplendent in his usual sombre black. The golden pin that pierced his master's collar seemed familiar to him but he could not place it. Silently, he considered his options. He could tear into his father; scream and shout, release the terrible feelings of anger and betrayal that were eating into him. That would bring him retribution, a fight, some path for his feelings to take. He was not sure, though, that he could take one of LaCroix's assaults, emotional or physical, just now. He dropped his gaze to the floor. "I'm sorry." He muttered the apology, hoping his father would accept it and leave.

LaCroix kept his intense stare fixed on his creation. He had come here to yell at Nicholas, maybe even to break any bones that had not snapped in the fall he had taken earlier that morning. But the child looked as if he had been through enough for one day. Deciding to be kind, LaCroix perched himself on the arm of the black leather couch. "Would you like to talk about it?"

Nick's head snapped up. "No. Thank you."

"Well, then, would you be so kind as to drop those infuriating mental blocks of yours back into place, because what I am feeling from you is getting rather... distracting." There was a note of regret in his voice, and Nick realized just how much of his ordeal had been broadcast to his father. Without warning, his anger resurfaced, fiercer this time, stoked by the sudden realization that LaCroix had known precisely what was happening to his protege.

"You knew what she was doing to me. You knew... and you did nothing. You're the one always going on about 'eternal protection'! Where were you, father?"

LaCroix rose to his feet, eyes flaring. "You've never wanted my protection, Nicholas! Each and every time I have offered it to you, or tried to bestow it upon you, you have turned your back on me. Why should I have believed that today would be any different? Umm?" He closed in on the younger vampire, backing him slowly up to the wall.

Determined not to give in, Nicholas allowed his own fury to build, to be fuelled by the utter betrayal he felt he was drowning in. "You knew how much she was hurting me, how weak I was."

"Yes, Nicholas, weak because of your pathetic attempts to find your precious cure, weak because you foolishly believe that one of our kind can survive on the blood of long-dead animals."

Nick's eyes widened. "It was dawn, LaCroix! I was burnt, tired, hungry." He stood his ground now, his sire only inches from him. This was probably a dangerous position, but Nick did not care anymore. "I needed you
this morning, and you weren't there. You promised me your eternal protection. What good is that, LaCroix, when you're the one I most need to be protected from?!"

The Elder growled deep in his throat, burning eyes set on his arrogant child. "You will never know what I have saved you from in the past, you ungrateful creature. I have always kept my promise to you."

"Always, LaCroix? Right up until the moment I actually..." His voice faded as his gaze fell upon the pin in his master's collar and a memory flashed upon him unbidden. //Paris, hundreds of years ago, a gift given to father from son, not in apology or thanks, but simply because....// Nick raised his fingers to the gold sculptured pin head; a perfectly detailed gargoyle, face full of dark, mischievous intentions. LaCroix caught a shadow of emotion as it passed through the link, and he stepped back suddenly, careful not to meet his child's inquisitive eyes.

With some difficulty LaCroix pushed away his own anger, and Nicholas' surprise. He knew the other had believed the pin lost somewhere in time, not kept as a precious reminder of what the Elder once had. LaCroix forced a change in his manner, adopting a facade of flippancy, of acting as if what happened to Nicholas did not matter, when in reality it mattered more than anything in the world.

"Nicholas.... There wasn't all that much I could do. I wasn't sure where you were, and it was day time. I thought maybe you were finally attempting to end it." LaCroix held his son's saddened gaze, and finally allowed his tone to soften slightly. "Please talk to me, mon cher."

Nick sighed, shaking his head in defeat; LaCroix knew the basics already, he only needed to fill in some details. "She hunted me, like I was some sort of creature. She knew what I was and at the start I think she wanted me to join her, to stand by her in what she saw as her sport. By the end... she just wanted to kill me, as painfully as possible."

"Why did you go? The sun was coming up."

"She had Schanke. She would have killed him." Nick threw a look at LaCroix that could have cut through stone. "I know, it's my own fault, if I hadn't gotten involved with mortals, if I didn't permit myself to care. I wouldn't have been in the situation." Nick sighed softly. "It hurt. It's been a long time since anyone but you... hurt me like that."

LaCroix regarded his protege with only a touch of the affection he felt. "Believe me, Nicholas, if I could have come to you, I would have. I couldn't rest. I could feel your panic and your fear. It's been so long since I've felt anything from you, but that.... I was worried, I wasn't sure what kind of situation could exact from you the emotions you were broadcasting."

Nick looked over at his father. "LaCroix... I can't cope with you trying to... blame me, or punish me at the moment."

LaCroix stood. "Why is it, Nicholas, that you think I only want to hurt you, or hate you?"

"Because that's all you've ever done." Nick regretted the words the moment he spoke them, knowing them to be falsehoods, but he did nothing to withdraw them. He was mentally pounded by his sire's fury for a long moment, and then a rush of air and LaCroix was gone.

A moment later Nicholas collapsed to the floor, sobbing into his hands, sitting alone when all he had ever wanted was perhaps finally out of his reach.

A single second passed.

Nick felt himself suddenly and fiercely embraced, wrapped in cool, strong arms. "Why, Nicholas, do I have to turn from you to get you to turn to me?" LaCroix's own voice now betrayed the emotion that he was pouring through the link.

Nick could not answer; the barrage of love and concern, the warmth of his father's protective embrace, all too much. He shook his head against LaCroix's chest, blood-tears running uncontrolled over his face to his sire's shirt. The hug tightened, possessed and protected as Nick released his fear and pain. LaCroix gently stroked the younger vampire's hair, soothing, holding his son as he moved to encircle him with his legs as well as his arms. He could not bare to see or feel his beloved child so upset; he knew the strength inherent in his son, and knew how and why it was out of his reach just now. He just needed to look after his creation.
It was all he had ever needed, however much more he had wanted.

"Father," Nicholas managed after a very long time, "please, take me home."

Time stopped.

LaCroix hesitated. Those words, the ones he had been longing to hear for so very long, had been spoken, and now he was unsure. "Nicholas, you are distraught, hungry... you've been through quite an ordeal. Maybe... maybe you shouldn't be so hasty."

With a deep, shuddering breath Nick pulled away slightly, just to bring his eyes level with the stony coldness regarding him with so much adoration. After gazing at his father for a few seconds, he started to laugh, sniffing and almost choking. "LaCroix," he stammered, "you have chased me around the globe for five centuries. You have made fun of every one of my attempts to cut myself off from you. Now, I'm asking you. I want it to stop. I want to be free, not from you, but with you. Please, take me home."

For a long time, the two vampires sat together, wrapped up in one another, each holding the other as if that could wipe away the past and shut out the world. Somewhere in the passing of time, Nick had dropped his head into the crook of his master's neck, scraped the skin with hungry fangs, but LaCroix had stopped him. The rebuttal had drawn a painful murmur from Nicholas, but his sire's fingers, moving down his arm, over his leg, between his thighs, had at once soothed and excited him. Somehow, clothing was removed with the least movement from their rapturous position, both left wearing only the silk of open shirts. They remained bound together by arms and legs, touching each other with long, lazy strokes. Their shared orgasms were a long time coming, climaxes reached slowly with no hurry in any of their movements. They teased, licked, nipped and nibbled whatever parts they could reach without disturbing the sensual warmth that enveloped them. Finally, their joint cries of release were silenced by each biting suddenly into the throat of the other.

Nicholas drank deeply from his father, the blood singing with the joy of the long-awaited reunion and LaCroix's overwhelming love for his golden child. LaCroix tasted the elixir he had craved, since his first sample of it, throughout the centuries. Nicholas was honey, fine wine, and the most intoxicating of spices. Nicholas was his, and finally, LaCroix believed, he truly had come home.

***

fin
elfin

email the author : back : Scrawlings

Characters beloved creations of James L. Parriot and Co.

m/m implied - for the Unnamed Faction

Alternate ending in response to the episode "Baby, Baby".

The whole episode was a visual treat; the interaction between Nicholas and LaCroix was stunning. LaCroix blowing Nick a kiss over the air was just perfect, and I could not let that go uncommented.
elfin

With thanks to Pfyre for beta reading on such short notice, and for the title!

"Holding To Eternity"
By elfin

LaCroix looked up, surprised to feel his son returning to the studio. He switched the transmission to music and waited for the door to open. Nicholas walked in slowly, and LaCroix fought to stop his aching heart showing in his features or arcing through their latent link with its strength. Instead, he carefully schooled his expression to one that Nicholas would be expecting to see, and gently smiled at his beloved protege.
"Legends, Nicholas." He spoke quietly. "Stories, beliefs that manipulate us. I told you that I didn't believe. I did not lie to you." Nick's quick glance was unreadable. "She is so like you, so willing to believe. Did the whole scenario not perfectly mirror my little wager with Thomas all those years ago?" LaCroix grinned, a little too self-satisfied, knowing how deeply Nicholas had already been cut tonight, and how he truly was twisting the knife. Nick continued to watch him, his fingers idly fiddling with some torn papers thrown to one side of the CERK studio console. "She, like you, believed that her salvation lay in legends, when she herself is a legend. So perfectly... tragic. Although, I must say, Nicholas, I was... proud of you, allowing her to continue. Did you really have to stay and watch?" Nick flinched slightly, and LaCroix backed off a little. "You do so enjoy torturing yourself, mon amis. I wish you didn't." LaCroix gave a small smile of what he hoped was some care.
"You kissed me."

LaCroix stopped, stunned, his eyes widening. It took a moment for him to regain his composure. "Ah. That. A gesture, of a father's love. I..." he floundered. It had just seemed appropriate. Maybe. He quirked his mouth into a smile, hoping Nicholas would not delve too deep. "Call it, sarcasm."
But Nick was shaking his head. "No. Not this time. You kissed me."
LaCroix stood, starting to pace on the other side of the console to his errant child. "All right, Nicholas. Yes, I made that small gesture of affection. I blew you a kiss over the airwaves of Toronto because for the very first time in so many centuries, I felt, finally, that you and I had a common bond." He turned, stopping, tilting his head slightly to regard his son in the dark light of the studio. "A child of yours had rejected you, spurned both your love and your eternal protection. Finally, you knew, if only for a moment, how you have made me feel for too long."

Nick took in what his father had said. His emotions were muddled. Even in this immortal life he could not, it seemed, do anything right. "I couldn't stand in her way. How could I deny her what I have searched so long to find?"
LaCroix leaned forward, palms flat on the console between them. "You did the right thing, Nicholas. Let it be. This once, forgive yourself." LaCroix's words were spoken with a tenderness that Nick had not heard in decades from his vampire master. The knife twisted a little deeper. He continued to play the scraps of paper through his fingers, fighting back the tears with ragged determination. "Tell me, Nicholas. Talk to me. All I can feel from you is a ... a thrumming pain. Tell me." LaCroix's insistent tone held less hiss than usual, and that pulled at Nick.

"I don't know. Throughout this whole thing, you've been there. From talking to me... reaching out over the radio as you so often do...." Nick managed a smile, and glanced at LaCroix, seeing the same expression reflected in that finely sculptured face. "You came when I called, gave me all the help I asked you for, even if you did make me beg...."
LaCroix shook his head slightly. "Oh Nicholas, mon cher Nicholah, when have I ever been able to refuse you anything?"
"Except my freedom." The words of an eternal request, this they were spoken with the lightness of habit, rather than the weight of hope. It was a minute change that LaCroix noticed instantly. He parted his lips to speak but Nick got in first, his voice little more than a murmur. "This has brought... an accord between us, LaCroix. One I would... regret losing at this time."

When LaCroix opened his mouth again, the words refused to come. At Nick's barely concealed chuckle, he shut it again. "I like to be able to surprise you, after all this time. I know... we have trouble with accords. But I just don't feel like fighting you any more. Not at the moment." Nick ducked his head to meet the other's icy gaze. "Please."
Finally, LaCroix found his tongue. "I'd... like that." Nick smiled, nodded, and burst into tears, the barriers finally crumbling. As he flattened his hands on the console, leaned foward and let the sobs rack through him, LaCroix's heart melted. Unable to ignore his son's anguish any longer, LaCroix moved around the console and wrapped Nicholas in strong, desperate arms. Turning, letting go, Nick sank into his father's embrace, strong and possessive. His sobs continued, his fingers clutching in the material of LaCroix's jacket, tears soaking the silk of his sire's shirt. LaCroix held him, enfolded him in the love that had always belonged to his golden, lost child. Long fingers combed gently through touseled blonde hair, as LaCroix whispered soothing nothings, snippets of old french remembered from so long ago.

Nick tried to swallow against the rising hysteria, leaning closer into the strong, *real* body that held him tight. "I'm sorry, LaCroix ... I'm sorry. She ... did to me what I've been... doing to you for all this time.... I'm sorry. I never... never realized what I was ... doing to you. I'm sorry."
LaCroix rested his cheek in his son's soft hair, squeezing him gently, firmly, accepting his ramblings as just those. "Ssh, mon fils, ssh.... I won't let go until you're ready, I promise."
"Just... be here."
"Mais oui, I'm always here for you. Always."

Together they rode out the last waves of Nick's emotional unheaval, until he pulled back from LaCroix, who immediately released him, silently promising his son that this breakdown would never go outside these walls, and would never be thrown back in his face. LaCroix truly expected an abashed Nicholas to mutter some small words of thanks, and to be on his way. He was not prepared for the expression on his son's face when Nick looked up sheepishly.
"I guess... that was my way of saying... that I still do need you." His low, beautiful voice was choked, but the words had been clear. Once more surprised, shocked even, LaCroix took a step back. Nick smiled. "You don't believe me. Is my asking you for help really becoming..." he searched for the words in his memory, "a bad habit?"

Blinking back his own, sudden tears, LaCroix shook his head. "No. Not at all. I should like it... if you asked more often." He felt like a blind man findig his way in an alien place.
"Good." Nick stepped forward, back into the circle of his father's arms, where he knew now that he was more than welcome. With a small sigh, he leaned back against that strong frame. "I must look like something from a horror film."
"Nonsense, Nicholas. You're..." LaCroix tried to find an adequate word and failed. "you're beautiful. You're my son. You're..." He stopped. Too much, too soon.
But Nick had already sensed it, something he might actually want to hear from his father's lips. "What?"
"It... it's not important."
"Yes it is." Nick leaned back slightly, looking into his father's eyes and holding that gaze. He suddenly dropped all his mental barriers, too tired and too stung to keep them up at the moment.
LaCroix steadied himself as the flood of Nicholas' thoughts and emotions fed into him, and the words fell from his lips as if pushed. "You're why I want to hold on to my eternity."

Before any more foolish words could be forced from him, LaCroix dropped his mouth onto Nicholas' as it smiled at him. Nick started in surprise, but after a single moment's hesitation, he allowed the kiss, even parted his own lips and invited LaCroix's tongue into him. The younger vampire snaked his arms around his father, under the black jacket he wore, to pull him closer, to urge him on despite the chorus of protesting voices in his head. Brutally, Nick shut them all up. He wanted this, he needed this. Tomorrow... would come, and he would see then what his heart truly wanted to do next.

*

He awoke to a feeling of warmth and familiarity. Opening his deep blue eyes, he gazed around his loft from the couch on which he lay, wrapped in a large, soft black blanket. His initial thought was that he was alone. But his lips turned up into a smile when his senses told him that it was merely a trick of the light. LaCroix stepped from around the pillar and smiled down at his son. "Good morning, Nicholas," he murmured cautiously.

LaCroix had been unsure of the welcome he would receive if his unpredictable child awoke to find their naked bodies wound wonderfully around one another. But he had had no wish to leave... just in case. "Good morning, Lucien." Nick's eyes sparkled, and he sat up, graciously drawing the blanket around him, settling into one corner of the couch. "What are you doing out there?"
LaCroix recovered from the greeting with impressive speed. "Fixing us some breakfast, dearest. I don't know if you remember our little stop off at the Raven...?"
Nick nodded, still smiling. They had made desperate, almost violent love in the CERK studio, sharing blood as if each vampire needed the essence of the other to survive. After lying on the floor together for a time, they had decided to move before sunset, although it had still been some hours off, and had gone to the Raven. There, if Nick's memory served him correctly, they made no secret of how they had spent the past two hours, decending into the cellar to chose some bottles. In the musky damp, passion had overwhelmed them once more, driving them to take each other vicously, to exorcise the demons between them, to leave them in a wonderful daze. Final stop had been Nick's loft, where a couple of bottles of blood had lead them on to a gentler love making, touching and caressing as if for the first time.

Nick remembered every detail. He did not want to forget. Yawning luxuriously, he reached out a hand. "Come back to bed."
LaCroix picked up the bottle he had been warming, along with two glasses, and strode over to the centre of the lounge. "That's more of a couch, Nicholas. If you recall, you could not find the energy to move from there to the bedroom. In fact, I think your exact words were, 'I'm too shagged, LaCroix, let's sleep here.'"
Nick blushed slightly, looking up to meet his master's twinkling gaze. "I think I may be able to find the energy now." He rose to his feet. "If you're... free to stay."
LaCroix's eyes shadowed for a moment. "Nicholas... are you sure about this? I have to know...."
"LaCroix, I can't see into the future, especially not one as long and complictaed as ours is sure to be. But I want this and I can honestly say that it is a ... new exprience. One that makes me feel more complete and secure than I have felt in centuries." Nick reached up and touched LaCroix's cheek. "But if you don't...."
LaCroix smiled, placing a single, long finger against his son's lips. "I love you, Nicholas," he breathed. "Never, ever doubt that. I, at least, will always be here for you."

They climbed the stairs together, hand in hand, heart in heart, mind in mind. A rare occurrance for two very independent, very volatile vampires. Who always needed one another.

fin
elfin

email the author : back : Scrawlings

Characters beloved creations of James L. Parriot. No copyright violation intended.

"Fooled"

by elfin

Missing scene from "Faithful Followers"

"Usually," LaCroix told his errant child, "I would hate to lose. But the look of utter foolishness on your face makes it all worthwhile."

Nicholas gazed at his master, allowed the grinning vampire to wallow in his own supposed victory and self-congratulation for a moment longer, and then he smiled. LaCroix's expression changed instantly, from one of total glee to one of slight suspicion. Nick could almost read the thoughts passing through his father's thick skull, his defences momentarily dropped. The younger vampire waited another beat, and then dropped his head, the contentment clear in his young features.

"You never fail to amaze me, father." He said softly. Unsure whether this was Nicholas admitting gracious defeat... or something else, LaCroix warily thanked his son. But Nick continued. "Do you have such a low opinion of me?" He looked up now, seeing his sire's eyes harden. "Do you really believe that after so many years, so many tricks, I would honestly fall foul of you so easily?" LaCroix felt a chill run down his already cold spine. Clever. His son was cleverer than he had given him credit for. At another time, at another's expense, he would have been proud.

Nick glanced over his master's shoulder, and Thomas stepped out from around the tall elder, happier now that Nicholas had acknowledged him; he had been warned about getting involved in this bitter family feud. But Nicholas could be so charming.... He walked softly to Nick's side and dropped the dark draw-string purse into the waiting hand. Nicholas smiled at him, and let his eyes drop onto the crimson material in his palm. "Actually, father, it appears that *I* have won *our* little wager." He glanced at Thomas, ensuring he pushed the name of their colleague through the link he shared with his master. "You see, a while ago, as we enjoyed a lesirely meal at the table of a mutual acquiantance, Thomas here started to tell me of his long friendship with you, and he mentioned that you had remarked on my... beloved nature. I disagreed, arguing that you had very little regard for me these days. So Thomas proposed a wager. He believed that you thought more highly of me than to take a wager yourself, betting that I would fall for any casual trick the two of you could conjour up. I promised to go along with the plan until the bitter end, until you truly believed that you had won, or until you called his bluff." He smiled, a little sadly. "I knew that you wouldn't."

LaCroix was staring at his son now, listening in disbelief to what had gone on, to what he had been oblivious to. "But who... the woman...?"

"Anna. A self-confessed murderess. I promised to reward her, if she lived. I was that sure of victory. She was dead anyway; she thought it might be a fun way to go. She... knew what she was coming to. All she had to do was say what I had told her to say. Thomas identified her for you, didn't he? You've never actually met Helen Ruskin-Slater, and now she's now longer in the country. She was, as you know, but she has been warned that her life may be in danger. I expect her to remain safe, LaCroix. That's my price for my winning."

LaCroix nodded once, respectful of the request; he had indeed won the right to claim her protection as his prize. "One to you, Nicholas." The Elder stepped forward toward the flap in the tent wall, but before he stepped out into the night, he leaned down, placing his lips next to his son's ear. "I love you more at this moment than I ever have, mon fils," he whispered lushly. "And I have *always* loved you."

A moment later he was gone. But as Nicholas stared after him, he sighed gently. *And one to you* he murmured down the link to his father.

*Naturally, mon cher*

fin

elfin

email the author : back : Scrawlings

Characters beloved creations of James L. Parriot and Co.

Reason & Rhyme
By elfin

(set at the end of "Fever")

Excited, despite herself, Nat left the lab to find a stock of syringes. She'd got the cure. Even if she hadn't been the one to find it, it was in her hands now. She hated LaCroix for being alive, for having the hold he still had over Nick despite everything Nick claimed. He'd killed a friend of hers, a friend who'd been so very desperate to live. And yet... yet she could not help but be glad that he had done. Because he had inadvertently found what had alluded her. She could, for once, save lives, even if they were lives of vampires. She could save Nick. For the first time in a while, she felt happy.

Nick was left staring at LaCroix across the cold, sterilised room. The relief that was so obvious in his eyes was mirrored in the eyes of his father.
"The thought of losing you to a mortally made killer..." LaCroix tried to explain his actions because for some reason he felt he needed to, to keep his son from running from him yet again. They'd been drawing closer recently, he hadn't purposely risked that. "I was angry, Nicholas. I had to kill him, to take my revenge for all who were going to die, and for those already dead."
Nick shook his head. "He didn't create it, LaCroix. The one who did... she died last night."
LaCroix stared at his son. "So you blame me?"
"No."
"I found the cure, if only by accident."
Nick smiled gently. "Divine intervention?"
The ancient's eyes filled and Nick went to his father, putting his arms around the old vampire. LaCroix returned the embrace, holding his child close and tight. "I couldn't bare to lose you, Nicholas, whatever our relationship might currently be."
"I didn't want to die." The velvet tones shook with emotion.
Tilting his head slightly, LaCroix bared his throat to the young one in his arms. "Drink, Nicholas. Live."

Nick's fears pushed the change over him and he unconsciously he kissed his father's neck before slicing into it with razor sharp fangs. LaCroix started at the wonderfully familiar yet desperately missed sensations of his son's bite and of his own most beloved creation feeding from him. He wrapped his arms tighter around Nick, holding him closer, combing his fingers into his soft blond hair. His son's fangs within him was an intimacy they had not shared in a very long time. The feeling of being drunk, of being taken into another, of being known... it was more than sex had ever been. And to share this with Nicholas had always affected him. He desired this. He always had.

Nick took in his father's blood, feeling the strength, the power crackling through his rusted veins. The scolding fire yet welcoming flame of his master's love for life, for immortality, for his daughter... and for his son. The cure flowed into him, washing away the malady that might have claimed his soul forever. What had LaCroix been through? Nick hadn't honestly believed that his master could be killed by this "germ", but he'd believed it heralded his own end and suddenly mortality and a human death seemed the least desirable things available to him. No, he hadn't wanted to die. He didn't want to die. But... wasn't that what he was searching for in his 'quest'?

Time for a rethink, perhaps.

Nat pushed the door open and stopped in her tracks. She stared at them; Nick buried in the affectionate embrace of a man she had always believed a cold, hard vampire with no heart and no soul. His closed eyes opened and glared at her in warning. She turned away, still hunting for the large number of syringes that she needed to cure the rest of the vampire community. She supposed that now Nick had the cure in his veins he would be able to act as a source too.

Nick pulled out slowly, sucking gently at the wound until it healed. "Pere."
LaCroix pulled in a deep, steadying breath. "Nicholas, I know of Screed's death," he spoke quietly, "of others close to us. I am sorry."
"Thank you." Slowly, Nick stepped back, catching LaCroix's cold hands in his own as they fell away from him. "I have to get to Vachon."
The ancient nodded, glancing up at Natalie, ready now to become a donor for the rest of the community at the side of his latest victim.

Nick took the first syringe, thanking his master again for what he'd done, albeit unintentionally. LaCroix inclined his head in acceptance of the thanks. "If you'd like, Nicholas, I'd appreciate your company through the day."
Nick didn't even hesitate. "I'll come over."
Just a nod, and then LaCroix settled, not so much as flinching when the Doctor was slightly heavy-handed with the second syringe. He merely smiled up at her, one fang flashing in the harsh light of the lab. She was more careful after that.

After Tracy had left, Nick sat on the edge of Vachon's death bed. "Are you here to give me last rights?" His voice was slurred, his eyelids dropping.
"Were you expecting a priest?" Nick jibed back.
"No."
Nick smiled, bring out the syringe. "Give me your arm."

Vachon closed his eyes as Nick injected the blood into his arm. LaCroix's blood. A little of the power and the darkness that Nick had tasted earlier was pushed into the Spaniard's veins. He shivered slightly, feeling the sickness retreating, feeling better with each second that ticked by. It was too difficult to ignore the fleeting images passed to him in the blood that was curing him so he rode the waves.

When he opened his eyes again, Nick was still with him, holding his hand. "LaCroix?" He couldn't mask his surprise.
Nick nodded. "It's a long story."
Vachon really didn't need to know. He stroked his friend's fingers in his own. "You?"
Nick smiled, looking down at their hands, feeling a peace settle over him at long last. "I drank from the source."

fin
elfin
21-05-00

email the author : back : Scrawlings