"Forever Knight" characters beloved creations of James D. Parriott and Barney Cohen. Story copyright 1998, M J Hughes.

The character of Anthony Crowley is copyright Terry Pratchett / Neil Gaiman.

Written through showings of, and referencing the episodes "Father's Day", "The Fix", "Curiouser and Curiouser", "Close Call", "Near Death", "Partners of the Month", "Be My Valentine", "Stranger Than Fiction", "Feeding The Beast", "Fallen Idol".

Lyrics in Chapter Two from "Piano Song", Erasure

Initial suggestion by Patti
With loads of thanks to my beta readers, Margaret, Patti and Julia, and to Pfyre for being eternally patient.

WARNING - m/m(/m), explicit, N/LC, N/LC/Sc

A Splash of Gold
by elfin

Chapter One - The City

    "This reminds me of Oxford, Nicholas. Do you remember Oxford?" 

Nicholas de Brabant smiled luxuriously, moving against the man lounging behind him.

"Of course I do, LaCroix. How could I ever forget?"

This old place of Toby's was very like D'Vires' English mansion; the large conservatory that backed on to the extensive gardens soaked up the sun throughout the day as the other had done, leaving it warm at night when the vampires came to be there. Now their only lighting came from a few candle sticks high on tall, black stands. The air was filled with the deep scent of sandalwood as the wax granules that LaCroix had bought melted in the glass dish of the burner. The quiet sound of violins played in the background; a compact disk on the small yet powerful system in the lounge. The two vampires - father and son - lay together, Nicholas' back to his master's chest, each propped up on one elbow, relaxed on the deep, throw-covered wicker chaise. They were coming to the end of the first bottle of vintage bloodwine the elder had chosen for this occasion, and LaCroix was working out a way to open the second without moving too far from his companion.

On the stone floor of the conservatory, a small red velvet box lay in the remains of its wrapping; a gift opened an hour or so before. Within the silk lining of the box, a gold band with an intricate design; a signet ring worn long ago by a man who long ago had ruled wisely over many people for many years. The design cut into the metal was actually a word in ancient script simply reading, 'forever'. LaCroix had apologized to his son; the young vampire's fingers were slightly larger than those of the ring's previous owner, but it fitted snugly on his little finger. Nicholas loved it; his gift from his father on this, his birthday. His immortal birthday.

Nicholas shifted, and once he worked out what LaCroix was trying to do, he pushed his father's hand away and uncorked the second bottle himself, pouring two glasses.

"Where is Toby, anyway?"

The question was followed almost immediately a own, low moan as LaCroix kissed the exposed nape of his neck with cool lips. Nick reached back with the glass, offering it to his sire, smiling as he did so, and LaCroix took the drink, admiring, not for the first time that evening, the way the ghostly transparency of Nicholas' white silk shirt allowed small glimpses of that beautiful body.

"Umm?"  LaCroix looked at his son, for a moment quite unable to remember what the question had been. "Sorry, mon fils, you can be quite ... distracting. I do not know where Toby has gone this time. He merely offered me the use of the house this weekend, when I mentioned in passing that we wanted to spend some time away, alone together."

Toby, a vampire younger than LaCroix but older than Nicholas, was one for travelling. He kept the house in Washington for entertaining purposes mostly, having residences scattered all over the globe. He tired easily of a locale and the people there, and was known to suddenly leave everything in one place and relocate to another in a matter of a day; he could be gone for hours, or years. Once he had disappeared for almost a whole century. Nick did not know who the man really was, although he suspected that LaCroix had an idea. He knew 'Toby' was a name picked up in the eighteen hundreds, before then it was Tobias. It had, once upon a time, been Tibius, but he had never been too keen on that. Over the ages, Nick knew that Toby and LaCroix had shared some interesting evenings and relished a few good hunts together. Nothing more, LaCroix had promised him.

Nicholas took a sip of the vintage bloodwine. "It's exquisite, Lucien," he murmured softly.

His son's rare use of his first name sent an unexpected shiver through the elder. He transferred the glass to his other hand for a moment, without tasting the deep crimson liquid, to wrap his long fingers over Nicholas' raised, black velvet covered hip. Nicholas smiled and dropped his head back to his sire's shoulder, humming softly. LaCroix bent to the invitation, running the tip of his tongue along the length of his child's pale neck.

"You are exquisite, mon amant. In all the centuries I have never seen any one or any thing that has drawn my eye as you have always done."

LaCroix stroked his hand up, over the gentle curve of Nick's body, around over his shoulder blade and up, curling his fingers intimately around his son's neck, reaching three long digits up to entwine them in the soft, golden mane. Savouring the feel of his child a moment longer, LaCroix retrieved his glass and put it to his lips, noting how Nicholas' eyes followed the ruby liquid. The young gaze was dancing with unashamed sensuality, and LaCroix played to it, taking a long drink of the bloodwine before lowering the glass and leaning down to kiss Nicholas deeply. Their tongues played together in the warmth of the wine, each tasting the other through the blood.

LaCroix could not keep his murmur of joyous desperation from escaping his throat, nor the accompanying emotion from arcing across their mental link. In reply, as he had replied so often in the weeks gone by, Nicholas sent a wave of reassurance, of love and passion. He was not leaving this time, he was never leaving. They belonged together, history had shown them that. In eight hundred years there had never been a lull in the intensity of their relationship, and that was what Nicholas had finally come to recognize.

LaCroix pulled back from the kiss, licking his tongue around Nicholas' swollen lips, biting gently, not breaking the skin. He looked deep into the fire-flecked eyes that were regarding him with steady desire.

"When you came to the station that night, reached into my pocket and took back the watch, I could not believe that I was awake, that it was really what you had done." 

Nick smiled. "I know." It had been very deliberate; a reversal of what he had done on Father's Day exactly a year before. It was his way of saying 'I am coming back to you' without actually uttering the words that had come later. "I knew you would follow me."

LaCroix chuckled. "Am I that predictable, Nicholas?"

"Yes, where I'm concerned." LaCroix had indeed quickly ended his show for the night and tracked his son back to the Raven, where Nick had been leaning on the bar, sipping the club's best human vintage and playing the watch chain through his fingers. His eyes had held an odd light, watching as LaCroix had approached wordlessly and simply stared at his child.

They had spent the remainder of the night, and the whole of the following day at Nick's loft, talking, laughing, finding their way together once more. Furtive glances, brief touches, false hopes - all replaced by a genuine rediscovered warmth, meaningful looks and smiles, and gentle caresses that lead to firing passions.

Nick shifted, turning onto his back to gaze up at his master. The look in his eyes was utterly wanton, and LaCroix could not help but grin at it; Nicholas could be so shameless sometimes. The elder leaned over his son, placing his glass on the floor, taking Nicholas' from him and disposing of it in the same manner. He could feel his child's body along the length of his own, and carefully he hooked one leg over a velvet-clothed one, settling his knee close to the growing hardness at Nicholas' groin.

"I love this shirt," he murmured, his voice low.

"I knew you would."

Nick squirmed slightly as delicate fingertips traced along his side, around over his stomach and up, over his ribcage, stopping momentarily to pinch one nipple through the thin cloth before crossing his chest to administer the same treatment on the other hardened bud. Nicholas groaned, his eyes flickering shut for a single moment before opening to pin his master with a golden blue stare. LaCroix had always loved Nicholas' eyes; those and the golden blond hair had always reminded the elder of an angel; albeit a fallen one. With deft fingers, LaCroix undid each of the tiny buttons on his son's shirt, unwilling to spoil such an outfit in the hope that Nicholas would wear it often, for him. The delicate material finally fell open, one half falling to hang over the edge of the chaise.

Nick reached back, pulling his sire's head down, exacting a kiss of desperate want and need from this man who had hurt him, and been hurt by him, for far too long. That part of their lives was over, it was the past, this was now; it was the agreement that had been found between them on that first night, only a few weeks ago. LaCroix moved his palm down, skilled fingers releasing Nicholas from the confines of his trousers as he in turn released his sire. As he felt his child start to play with him, LaCroix reached down and entwined his fingers with Nick's. He shifted slightly, his supporting arm still cradling his head, his other straightening, taking Nicholas' with it, out away from their bodies as he pressed himself firmly against his beloved. Skin touched skin for the entire lengths of their torsos, their joint coolness igniting flames within them.

LaCroix kissed Nick's forehead, then each cheek, his chin. He licked his tongue along the side of the proffered throat, up over an earlobe to flick sensuously inside. He felt Nicholas' shudder, sensed the flames leap between them. He placed feather kisses along the pronounced jaw line, returning to the eager lips that awaited him. Finally he allowed the plundering of his mouth as his son's fingers tightened in the strong grip that held them. Nicholas wanted to touch, to be touched, but LaCroix pulled back, shaking his head slowly.

"Patience, mon amant."

Unsure where this patience was supposed to come from, Nick raised his head up as far as he could, aching for more, trying to reach his father's mouth. LaCroix pulled back further, and shifted position once more, taking his leg from between those of his son and placing it over his thighs. The lengths of their straining erections came together as LaCroix relaxed more of his weight on to his son's body. Almost instinctively, Nick thrust up, rubbing himself against his master. LaCroix responded in kind, meaning to climax them together that way with agonizing care and a lazy speed, to slowly drive his son insane with the need for release, to finally take him to the precipice and hold him there until the light around them exploded. But young Nicholas had other ideas. The next time their heated gazes met, he rasped out, "Come inside me, Father, please."

The simple plea cleared LaCroix's head of all notions of exquisitely torturing his son to orgasm. He remembered back, almost eight hundred years, to the sight of Nicholas de Brabant lying before him, waiting to be taken, waiting with heated desire to join them for eternity. Slowly, LaCroix raised his leg, allowed Nicholas to slide his own trousers off with silken grace, and to turn once again to put his back to his father's chest. LaCroix wrapped his supporting arm through the loop of Nick's, pulling him back. At the same time he reached over to soak his fingers in the bloodwine that filled the two glasses.

Nicholas rested his head back against LaCroix, his eyes closed, his reddened lips parted. He bent his leg, placing his foot flat on the seat, arching his back as his father's fingers parted his buttocks and worked their way into him with infinite care. Eager for more, the young vampire impaled himself on the three digits that penetrated him.

"Please, LaCroix....." 

His plea was finally answered as his sire replaced his fingers with his straining shaft. Allowing Nicholas a moment to adjust, the elder began to move in long, languid thrusts, pulling almost completely out before pushing back inside in one long, smooth motion. As a slow, luxurious rhythm was established, LaCroix ran his hand down the inside of his son's thigh, finally wrapping long fingers around Nicholas' aching cock. Bringing Nick into the same rhythm, LaCroix bent to scrape his fangs across the throat bared to him. At that moment, with a gentle, soul-wrenching cry, Nick pushed himself up, impaling himself on his master's fangs as he was impaled on his cock. LaCroix came suddenly with a vicious ferocity, joined a moment later by his son who had taken his sire's wrist from his erection to bite into it and drink deeply. It was all that was needed to send him spiraling after LaCroix.

The world melted away as second orgasms were triggered deep within them both, accentuated as each tasted the other, more intimate than any physical act could ever be. Each time they shared this they knew that no other would be enough, that it had to be the two of them. This strength of feeling passed between them as they drank. Love, passion, desire, a need to possess and at the same time, to protect - it was all in the honey elixir that was the mixing of their blood and the joining of their bodies. It was everything they were, everything that was shared between them.

Finally, Nick extracted himself, feeling LaCroix's tongue licking gently at his healing wounds. He felt incredible. Since returning to his family - to the fold - since resuming the drinking of bottled human blood and tasting the completing love and desire of his master, Nicholas had felt stronger and more aware of himself, of those around him; his vampiric senses again what they had once been. He fell back, leaning heavily against his father. It was not just his senses that were shaper, the bond between them was clear and powerful. Nicholas heard LaCroix now as his father communicated with him using that intimate connection.

//Je t'aime, mon amant//

//Je t'aime aussi, mon pere. Toujours //

It was a long time before either actually spoke; content to just lie together for a while. Shifting slightly to fold his arm up under his head and lie down in his sire's embrace, Nicholas began to muse.

"Do you feel all your children, Lucien?"

The question surprised the elder. "Feel?"

"The bond between us. I know you hear things I say sometimes, when we're apart, that you feel what I feel, know when I'm hurt or frightened. Now and again I can feel you. But do you sense the others you have brought over?" 

LaCroix sighed softly. "Yes. Although, I do tend to concentrate on you. And Janette. Others, those I have brought across for other reasons, I have simply... let them go." He stole a careful glance at Nicholas' expression, fearful for a moment, but Nick was rolling his eyes and had made no move from their close position. LaCroix relaxed again. "I feel you most strongly now because for some weeks a great amount of the blood in my veins has been yours." Nick smiled at that, and the elder found himself wanting to explain... he simply could not find the right words. "I could never let you go," he murmured eventually. "I never wanted to." 

"I know." The quiet acceptance was a sweet sting to LaCroix's heart. Nick stretched with a feline grace and closed his eyes. "I would like to meet them all, one day."

LaCroix's eyebrows furrowed. "All who?"

"My brothers, my family."

Disbelief coloured the elder's expression. For so very long, Nicholas had not even wanted to acknowledge his father, never mind the rest of his fairly extensive family tree. Now he was asking to meet them?

"Why?"

"I don't know...."

LaCroix frowned; he could feel his son's sudden unexpected rush of embarrassment and could not work out where it was coming from. Nicholas usually blushed only in the company of others, there was very little that could affect him in that way where LaCroix was concerned; both had shared too much for too long; good and bad, complex and simple.

"Nicholas?" The elder pushed gently through the link.

Nick sat up slowly, and LaCroix moved also, confused by his son's action, and by the vibrations pulsing between them. Nicholas wrapped his arms around his father's neck before confessing, "I want them all to see us, together. I want to stand with you, in front of you with your hand possessively on my shoulder. I want them to know that I'm yours, for eternity. And that you are mine. As it should have been so long ago."

This admission was more than LaCroix had ever believed he would hear. They were both responsible for the past. LaCroix had already admitted that he had been over-zealous in his parenting of Nicholas, and Nick had admitted that although LaCroix could have been less intrusive, could have allowed his errant child to find his own way, could have left him alone from time to time instead of following him around the globe, Nicholas had blamed his father too many times for doing to him what he had asked for and agreed to. Whatever had gone since, that first taking - LaCroix's bringing him across - had been with his consent.

LaCroix pushed Nicholas away gently, lifting his son's chin to meet the deep pools of his eyes.

"They have always known, Nicholas. None would have ever dared touch you. And I have always been proud of you." 

"Don't lie to me." Despite his words, Nick's tone remained soft. "I know you haven't been, and I understand why. For so long I was convinced that the only way to escape from what I was, was to run from you."

LaCroix had no answer to that. He could feel Nicholas' forehead dropped against his own, and he took a deep breath, inhaling the scent and presence of his dearest son. Only after a time did he bring up the only doubt that still remained in his mind.

"You know, Nicholas, I did not... I was not there for you... after the attack simply to get something in return."

Nick smiled softly, knowing where his father's thoughts were going, what they had been tempered with ever since their reconciliation. "I know, Lucien. I did not feel that I owed you, after all you had come to my rescue so often in the past and still I retreated further from you."

With his head lowered, his Nicholas wrapped around him, held within the circle of his arms, LaCroix asked quietly, "Then what was different this time, mon fils?" 

Nick felt an unexpected tear in the corner of his eye, allowing it to fall unheeded. "Everything."

// They had been after this guy for months, and now they had a positive sighting, Nick would be damned if he was going to let the monster - the killer of seven young men - escape this time. Ignoring the call's orders for no one officer to go in alone, he yanked down hard on the wheel and turned the Cadillac into a heart-stopping 180 degree swerve, narrowly missing a Chrysler cruising in the next lane. Several minutes later he screeched to a halt, parking the car up on the sidewalk and barely allowing the engine to cut out before he was out of the door and running down the near by alley.

Although Nick was unaware of it, the flow of words across Toronto's airwaves from the Nightwatch broadcast had halted abruptly. In the CERK studio, LaCroix's eyes glazed over for a second, before he cut to music and flew from the door in the direction of his call to his senses.

Nick stopped, trying to get his bearings. His senses were prickling in a manner that he did not quite understand. He could not pick out a single mortal heartbeat, but he could feel vampires... lots and lots of vampires. He was sure that this area was not somewhere the Community usually gathered, so why...? He turned quickly, sudden alarm bells going off in his head. Something was wrong. The presences were coming closer, and there were so many... maybe he had walked into a convention of some kind. If their suspect had inadvertently wandered into this pack chances were he would not have a heartbeat left to hear. Deciding to back off slightly, Nick turned in the direction he had come and started to walk.

In the next instant his world exploded in pain as twenty or so vampires jumped him from all directions, knocking him to the ground and starting to bite brutally into him. Startled, it was a moment before Nick began to fight, throwing his full force into trying to raise himself from the cold ground. Frightening sounds aroused his aural senses; the quiet snicks of flick-knives before cold steel started to tear his skin. Screaming in shock, panicking with fright, Nick pulled his arms up, protecting his throat as best he could under the vicious attack. He could feel his own blood starting to seep from the many wounds being inflicted, although he was sure that he was not being drunk from. His hurts would heal quickly, but as more of his flesh was ripped and he lost more blood, the healing was taking longer and longer. He was all too aware of his kind's ability to bleed to death.

The terror beginning to take hold, Nick turned his head, biting into the first thing he connected with. He was rewarded with blood spurting into his mouth and over his face and he drank heavily, replenishing his own lost supplies from one of those hurting him. That vampire finally managed to pull away, brutally backhanding him before falling away from the pack. He was immediately replaced, but in that moment, Nick caught a glance of another standing over them, watching with incandescent eyes. Again, Nick twisted in the grips of the iron hands that held him. But his first counter attack had been witnessed by others, and he suddenly felt fingers in his hair, slamming his head back against the ground so hard that he was momentarily stunned. Fear gripped him; if he could not feed he would die here for a reason he did not understand. Still struggling against the strength that trapped him, Nick looked inwards, into his mind, and dropped all his mental barriers that shut him off from his father. Choking as blood started to run into his throat and lungs from the wounds being continuously inflicted, he screamed for LaCroix, opening his mind and hoping against hope that his sire would hear him.

From above, LaCroix swooped down, hearing his son's silent, terrified cries for help, feeling the agony as Nick's flesh was torn into. He knew the vampires were there before he was close enough to see them, but when he did his anger flared. He hit from behind, recognizing the elder standing over the group attacking his son. He ripped into the pale neck, the unexpected action stunning the other momentarily as LaCroix torn the skin further and raised his hand, forcing his fingers into the wound and pulling, tearing as he uttered three words into the elder's ear.

"Let. Him. Go."

Nick's grip on consciousness was waning. He knew he was losing too much blood, and he wished he understood why this was happening to him. Had he lived so badly as a vampire that the whole Community had decided it had gone on for too long? Had LaCroix set him up to rid himself of his shameful son for good? As another bite severed his jugular, he tried to cry out. No sound came, and with a unheeded sob, his vision faded from red to black.

"I will not repeat myself."

LaCroix's eyes glowed a deep red as he stared directly into the eyes of the other elder. Despite the gashing wound in his neck, the old vampire was still not responding, his cruel smile still twisting his hard features. In his mind, Nick had gone quiet and that was not good. He tried to send a mental command to his son, demanding that he wake, but to no avail. With a blood curdling scream, LaCroix tore into the elder's throat with his teeth, severing artery, veins and windpipe. Pulling back, he dug his fingers into the bloody mess and placed his nails against the hard bone of the spine.

"Release him or I will bleed you dry."

There was a flicker in the golden eyes and LaCroix knew that the mental command had been sent. He heard shouts, unmistakably of police, probably Nicholas' department, and released the elder as the pack lifted in one graceful movement from his son's prone and bloodied form. LaCroix lost himself for a moment in the terrible sight of his beloved child, barely alive, blood bubbling up from within him, his mutilated body lying as any trash in the alley. Fury overcame him. In the next second, he had grabbed a splintered piece of crate from the ground and thrust it into the elder's heart, the force of his attack throwing them both to the ground. LaCroix held the weapon in place for the seconds that the elder fought him. And then it was over. Still feeling nothing but rage, LaCroix crossed to where Nicholas lay deathly pale and so, so still. His clothes and flesh were in tatters, his breathing was non-existent and physically he was barely recognizable. Taking his son into his arms he leapt into the air.

Only when he finally set Nick down on the bed in the master bedroom of the private apartments behind the Raven, did LaCroix realize the true extent of his son's injuries. Racing down to the cellar he collected an armful of bottles - the freshest they had in stock - and returned quickly to Nick's side. Sitting up on the bed, LaCroix uncorked one bottle and wrapped an arm under Nicholas' unresponsive body, lifting him and raising the bottle to the pale lips.

"Nicholas, please... you need to feed." Desperately, he reached out with his mind, but Nick's presence there had dwindled to a mere spark of light that refused to become anything more.

In slight panic, LaCroix discarded the bottle and bit deeply into his own wrist, holding it above his son's mouth, his own nails keeping the gash from healing. Several drops of blood entered Nick's parted lips, slipping down over his tongue, stirring the slumbering beast within. Even LaCroix, with so very many years of experience, was surprised by the savagery with which Nicholas sank his teeth into the offered wrist. Just as roughly, LaCroix pulled Nick off him, eliciting a furious roar from his distraught son. Quickly, he turned, seating himself up on the pillows with his back against the wall, putting both arms around his writhing child's waist and chest he dragged the younger vampire back to sit against him, and then relinquished his wrist to his son's desperate hunger once more.

LaCroix took the bottle from the floor beside them and drank it down in one, immediately disposing of it in favour of a full one. There was no recognition in Nick's fiery eyes, and not much control in his manner as he drank hungrily, his system desperate for the healing powers of his own maker's life blood. It was a very long time - longer than was probably safe, LaCroix mused - before the elder pulled his arm away from Nicholas' grasp and encountered no struggle to keep possession. As he had suspected, the final minutes of drinking had simply been for comfort; his son had been through a terrifying ordeal and his father's presence, LaCroix knew, represented a haven of safety and protection. He was not about to take that away from him.

As LaCroix rubbed his wrist to relieve the aching pain, he kept his other arm tightly wrapped around Nicholas, who had crawled back and up, curling himself against the other vampire to sleep. After finishing off a third bottle of blood, LaCroix drew his child further into his embrace and softly kissed his head, murmuring to his beloved gently for a while until he too slept. //

Nick thought back to his days of healing, staying close to his father at the Raven. Janette had used her distinct sway with many of her customers to find out who each and every vampire, involved in the attack on her brother, had been. Over three nights, LaCroix had hunted them down and killed them all. Nick's recovery had been steady. LaCroix had allowed Natalie to look him over several days afterwards, and she had declared him physically fit. Nightmares followed, days of sleeping in LaCroix's embrace, hours of patient comforting from Nick's master as a side of his father Nick did not often see was pushed to the surface. Sometime while he healed, he realized that LaCroix did, in fact, still love him. And that maybe his feelings for the elder had far from dissipated over the centuries of warring.

Nicholas had returned home a week later, yet after only two days he had started to miss LaCroix's soothing presence. He had gone to the Raven the following night - the day before Father's Day - only to be told by Janette that his father had gone out with someone called Anthony; that LaCroix had most likely brought the mortal over the previous night and intended to take him as a companion, a new son. Nicholas had not believed his own reactions of pain, betrayal, loss... utter bewilderment. All day he had paced his loft, unable to sleep, trying to analyze his feelings. At dusk he had driven straight to the station and taken the watch from the pocket where he knew his father still carried it. Everything had changed. The moment LaCroix had finally revealed a side of himself that Nick found he could easily love, the moment he had left his son alone as the child had always wanted, Nicholas had turned and grasped his father so tightly that neither of them had been able to pull away.

Nick came back to the present, to find his father chuckling, yet the blood-tinged tears rolling slowly over his cheeks were not of laughter, but of sadness.

"What is it?"

"Oh, Nicholas. Mon enfant insense. Did you really believe that I could replace you?"

"Janette...."

"Our dear Janette simply drew the incorrect conclusion from the scant details she was privy to. That night, Anthony Crowley, a very old friend, arrived in Toronto and looked me up. We went to the theatre together, that was all. Anthony is not a mortal and not of our kind. Our enjoyment of each other goes no further than the appreciation of a good play, or an opera. My tastes in other areas are rather more... ethereal than his are."

Nick stared at him. And then he lowered his head and with a tender touch he licked at his father's tears. "I will have to meet this Anthony Crowley one day, and thank him."

LaCroix felt an immeasurable relief on hearing his son's quiet words, but he added cautiously, "I'd really rather you didn't. I wouldn't want him getting any... ideas about you." He moved quickly, catching Nicholas' lapping tongue carefully in his teeth, using it to pull his beloved into a deep, prolonged kiss. "In fact, I wouldn't want anyone else getting any ideas about you. Including one particular mortal friend of yours."

Nick took his father's hand, starting to play absently with his long, cool fingers. "I know you still don't approve of my friends..."

LaCroix pulled his fingers from Nicholas' grasp and put one to his son's lips, pressing it against them, hushing him. "I love you, Nicholas. If I must strive to understand you slightly better to secure your place at my side, then it is a challenge I willingly accept. I will admit that some of your mortal acquaintances are quite... fascinating." He tripped on the last word as Nick's lips parted and he sucked LaCroix's finger between them, applying suction with his tongue and mouth, tracing lines upon the digit that were having an effect on other, already waking parts of the elder vampire's body.

"Demon," LaCroix accused softly.

"Seducer." Nick shot back.

"I'm not the one giving head to my finger."

"Would you like me to do this somewhere else?"

A moment later Nick found himself swept back into his master's arms, his lips being parted by a insistent, probing tongue. He lay across LaCroix's lap, still wearing nothing but the open silk shirt, wrapped up in strong arms, being kissed more possessively than he could ever remember being kissed. When LaCroix released him, he reached out and lifted his birthday gift from the floor, removing the ancient ring from the box and sliding it on to the little finger of his left hand. LaCroix watched, almost breathless. It was more than a simple birthday present. It was LaCroix's way of telling his son how proud he really was of him, how much he did love him, the importance that Nicholas held in his life and within their community. All these things were communicated silently between them.

Slowly Nicholas ran his fingers through his father's soft, short hair, and pulled that luscious mouth back to cover his own. The flames ignited once more, they allowed the fire to command them.

***

Detective Schanke indulged himself in mumbling a string of not-so-niceties about his partner as he pulled up once more outside Constantine's house. Trust Thomas Constantine to start back at his old tricks while Schanke's erstwhile partner was out of town. Schanke sighed. At least he had not had to listen to the damn Nightcrawler show for a couple of nights, although he vaguely recalled Natalie mentioning that the creepy guy was away too this week? Nick had probably planned it so that he could take a vacation without missing a night of his favourite radio show. Yep, Nick was one hell of a strange guy. Maybe not as strange as this Thomas Constantine guy though. It had been over a year since the disappearance of David Constantine and his family - the captain had gone ballistic at Nick for that one. But she had seemed convinced that the old man's health was failing, and that the family would crumble once he was dead. Strange thing was, the old man was still alive, and reports claimed that he was in better shape than ever despite his considerable years. Schanke did not get it.

He climbed the steps of the large sheltered townhouse and rang the doorbell. This was undoubtedly a waste of time. Constantine would be out of jail in... Schanke glanced at his watch, just after dawn in fact, if he came quietly. And how much chance was there of that? The head of the now dwindling Constantine family was not going to appreciate being dragged out of bed at four in the morning. But with Myra away at her sister's for a few days he had the time to waste, he decided.

Thomas Constantine replaced the telephone and listened sharply to the various noises around him. There was an underlying mumbling... a policeman at his door. He frowned. Dawn was fast approaching, he could not allow himself to be arrested now. Maybe he could pay this one off. Stopping himself from running down the stairs, the infant vampire opened the door and invited his guest inside.

Schanke shook the old man's out-stretched hand, marvelling at the strength of the handshake.

"Umm... yeah. Sorry to disturb you at this hour, but I'm afraid I need you to come down to the station and answer some questions."

Constantine smiled, a mouth full of crocodile teeth. "Concerning what, Detective?"

"Concerning a couple of murders that have taken place in the last few days."

Constantine sighed. He had known that this would happen, but a few people had had it coming to them for far too long and with Lucien LaCroix away playing with his son it had been too good an opportunity to miss. LaCroix had warned him about drawing too much attention to himself now but old habits died hard.

"I'm sorry, Officer... Schanke, maybe we could do this at some other time, say, this evening?"

Schanke's eyebrows furrowed. What was it about the people in this town and going out during the day?

"I'm sorry, my captain can get very insistent."

Constantine's eyes hardened. "Perhaps she could be persuaded."

"I doubt it... see she's not very keen on your family and since David's disappearance...." Schanke went on, completely oblivious to the dangerous situation he was creating.

***

LaCroix nudged his sleeping son gently. "Nicholas, we cannot rest here."

"Umm...." Nick moaned sleepily. "Why ever not?"

"Because we are surrounded by glass windows, mon coeur. It would not be advisable to be here when the sun rises, wouldn't you agree?"

Amusement played in the musical voice. LaCroix knew of Nicholas' deep-seated fear of the sun and the pain it brought; despite his one-time passion to see it again, to stand in it and be accepted. His child was playing with him; had the sun come up now, Nicholas would have looked to LaCroix for his protection. Yet this time he indulged Nicholas instead of mocking him. He picked his son up, carrying him as one lover would carry another, and flew them both upstairs. As the sun rose outside, behind the shuttered windows, Nicholas settled peacefully into his master's loving embrace as both vampires finally got some sleep after the night's activities.

LaCroix woke suddenly. His internal clock told him that he had only been asleep for an hour, if that. The sun was climbing into the sky, and Nicholas slept safely and soundly beside him. There was no danger here to either of them, so why had he woken?

He sat perfectly still for a time, probing his own mind gently. And then a second wave of something... orgasmic... swept over him. He could not suppress the moan of intense pleasure mingled with a chilling dread. One of his children was feeding on a mortal... but not just feeding. Creating. Someone within his family was giving life to another. Someone was taking a son or daughter. He frowned. Only a few of his children had the ability to do that. Nicholas for one. But he had never wanted to; he had killed the few he had taken after a time anyway. Besides, Nicholas was lying right here with him. He resisted the urge to sigh with the absurd happiness he felt and returned to his thoughts. Janette too had the power to bring one across, but she had never seen herself as the mothering type. Besides, he could feel Janette if he tried, and she was far from creating a son, from the sensations that pulsed within her, she was possibly taking someone else's.

LaCroix concentrated for a moment longer before finding the culprit. He moaned again, this time in disappointment and frustration. Thomas Constantine. LaCroix mentally kicked himself. He had warned the old man, threatened to demonstrate the anger of a father if he was betrayed and his commands ignored. He could only hope that the newest member of his family was not someone in power, or the public eye. LaCroix closed his eyes and pushed on the slight bond between he and Constantine, briefly strengthening it for his purposes. For a split second he saw through the eyes of his child. And he shook his head in dismay.

//No! Idiot!// he forced the accusation through the link into Constantine's mind. He could feel the other man panicking slightly, unsure now, and LaCroix gave him the first order that came to mind. //Nicholas' loft take him there//

Letting the link fade, sure that Constantine would do as he had told him to this time, LaCroix gently shook his son awake. "Nicholas." 

Nick muttered, opening his eyes and looking up at his father. "Go to sleep, LaCroix. I'm exhausted." 

LaCroix shook him again, slightly harder, and Nick pushed himself up into a sitting position, facing his father, still partially asleep. When he actually looked at the elder, he could see the expression clear in his eyes. "LaCroix, what's wrong? What's happened?"  What could possibly have happened in the hour they had both been lying here? 

"I have some bad news." LaCroix's voice was deep, quiet, and Nick suddenly knew that their blissful weekend was over.

"Tell me."

"Constantine."

Nick frowned. "Don Constantine? What about him?"

"He has... taken a son."

"What?" Nick had been somewhat surprised when LaCroix had brought the old man over, a little sceptical and more than a trace appalled, more because he knew what it felt like to bring someone over - the pleasure innate in the action - than who the guy actually was; Constantine was old, even for LaCroix. He had never once thought of the family head as any kind of brother, even in the last weeks when he had slowly been accepting his family once more. But now LaCroix was sensing something from him, and it drove home to Nick just how close LaCroix could get to all his children. LaCroix seemed to read his thoughts for his expression softened and he reached up to lay a strong hand on Nick's shoulder.

"A few minutes ago... I was awakened.... We have to go."

"LaCroix, we can't go." Nick took hold of his father's hand, trying to calm him. "The sun is up. We have to stay here until this evening."

"We must find a way."

Nick raised his other hand to LaCroix's shoulder. "Why? Why is it so important?" Nick stared uncomprehendingly at his father for a long time. And then he felt something akin to... sorrow, and apology, both emotions seeping from his father, seeking forgiveness within his son. Understanding slowly dawned. "Lucien, who is it? Who has he taken?"

LaCroix's gaze was softer than Nick could ever remember seeing it. "I'm sorry, Nicholas, I warned him...."

Nick was worried now. "LaCroix. Who is it?"

"Detective Schanke."

Nicholas stared at his father, letting his hand slip from the cool shoulder. "No... please, LaCroix."

"I'm sorry." LaCroix did not dare question the baring that this would have on their relationship; he was responsible for Thomas Constantine being what he was. This was his fault. He dropped his eyes from his son's shocked face. "I will go to them, somehow."

Nick was still for a moment. Schanke. His partner, his friend. Schanke. A married man, a man who loved his wife with all his heart. A man with a daughter he worshipped. Schanke loved the daylight, the sunshine, as much as Nick had. Schanke. Gods, no, please.... No.... Then he shook his head. "No, stay until sunset, and then we'll both go."

LaCroix's head snapped up. "Nicholas...."

"We can't get back now. It's a hot day, you can feel that as well as I can." Nick took his father's hands in both of his. "We need to sleep, we need to feed. Then we will go." Nick tried a smile and almost managed one. "He is safe, isn't he?"

LaCroix almost laughed. A month ago, Nicholas' reaction to this would have been so different. He, LaCroix, would be fighting his son in a violent battle of fangs and threatened sunlight by now. Instead he could still feel the love flowing from his son through the link. "I... I instructed Constantine to take him to your loft."

"Then he will sleep there, won't he? Isn't that right, under usual circumstances?"

"Yes, he will sleep...." LaCroix still could not believe the sense his impulsive child was talking. He could feel other things from Nicholas; sorrow, confusion, a desperate need to get to his partner, to be there for him. But he was being sensible, he was thinking. "He will sleep as you did...."
"Then we shall too. We will leave as soon as we can, try to be there when he wakes."

LaCroix nodded. Nicholas turned then, lay down, reached back and pulled his father's arm around him. LaCroix moved closer to Nick, but stayed cross-legged. He could sense his son's thoughts now, could sense his deep sadness, his fear of what would come this evening, of the blame and hate that would meet him once he returned to the place that for now was his home.

Over the next few hours, neither slept. Nicholas wallowed in memories of his three-year long partnership with Don Schanke; remembering times of friendship and times of confusion, good times and bad like any partnership. He had never let Schanke close, never allowed him to break through the barriers he held rigidly around himself. Now... he could not bare to think of what was going to happen now. There was too much, eternity was a long time and could not be planned. He had to wait, simply prepare himself for what was ahead. He found himself grateful beyond belief that his own father was there with him. Suddenly, he felt very small, very young, and very alone.

//never alone, my child//

LaCroix listened to his son's thoughts, not prying, only witnessing what Nicholas allowed him to know, and these days, he was allowing more and more through, his mental barriers almost non-existent. He was upset, and he was not the only one. LaCroix hated to be disobeyed by his children; he was used to it with Nicholas, and to a lesser extent, Janette, but even they had been with him over a century before beginning their own personal rebellions. Constantine was an infant still. LaCroix's anger started to boil. He had hoped that for a while at least life would be settled; he rather liked Toronto, even if he would not admit that to Nicholas quite yet. He enjoyed doing the radio show, he liked having the Raven as somewhere to go to have a drink, to be among others of his kind, and he did love the weather there. He would be saddened to leave Toronto.

Again he shouted an insult through the link to his now panicked youngest, at the same time checking that his instructions had been carried out. At least Constantine was at Nicholas' loft, sitting in the corner of the couch in the darkened room. He was holding to his dignity, but was starting at the smallest sound. They were safe there, Nicholas' loft was the safest place in Toronto from mere mortals. Not that the two vampires were in any danger, except from each other.

LaCroix dropped his eyes to his resting son. Gently, he combed his fingers through Nicholas' blond hair, eliciting a low hum. LaCroix found himself thinking back to the night he brought Nicholas over. The young knight had looked so innocent, so beautiful lying there waiting for him. He had asked, and Nicholas had agreed. How many times had he been forced to remind his son that he was asked? Yet he had never, ever regretted taking Nicholas, even if the young crusader had spent the majority of the centuries regretting saying yes.

//
..."This just came in, it's a homicide, at a radio station."

Panic drove the elation from his soul. "Who?"

"We don't know yet, some DJ. Doctor Lambert's on her way."

Schanke turned from the coffee machine to see his partner strolling out of the building. "Nick! Nick, wait up!"

Schanke hung on for dear life as Nick drove like a madman through the city. This night the radio played only music, and the grating notes did nothing to soothe Nick's unusually over-active imagination. What if the twisted reality his festering guilt had created had seeped through somehow into this life, into *real* life? What if the homicide... somehow.... Nick shook his head in denial of his own thoughts, a gesture that did not go unnoticed.

"Nick, Partner, could we go just a little slower?" Nick either did not hear him, or just ignored him. "Nick, what's wrong? Where are we going?"

*What do you care, de Brabant? After all, last time you thought he was dead, you killed him!* So what was this? Where had his panic come from when he had been living that other nightmarish life anyway? Had the reality of seeing his master lying prone in the morgue finally driven home the absolute truth of his relationship with LaCroix? What the hell was that truth? that a century of fighting had simply been borne of frustration and misunderstanding? No, he knew that was not true. Eight centuries had wrapped them both in complex threads that would eternally join them, no matter how hard he fought to break away.

Why? Why any of it? His marriage to Janette and his affair with Nat was easy to explain; he constantly turned to Janette for friendship, for easy conversation, for blood sharing and sex, and all the time he continued to let Nat believe in some future or the two of them. He could not shake Serena's accusation that he too would take he life of a mortal to become mortal. Would that mortal be Nat?

And Schanke. He glanced across at his paling partner, caught his gaze and smiled gently. He loved Schanke. He could not imagine working by any other partner's side. He promised himself that he could try and be more patient and more attentive where this man was concerned. Maybe he would get to know Myra and Jenny a little; start to treat Schanke as a partner and a friend, not just a mortal he had been told to work with.

Nick threw the Caddy up onto the sidewalk outside the CERK studio, neatly missing the two other patrol cars on the scene, and Nat's car parked on the other side. Nick let the car door slam behind him as he ran into the studio, leaving Schanke to explain them both to the two rookie cops outside. The vampire's slow heart was racing as he rounded the corner and came to stop outside the broadcast booth window. All he could see was the back of Natalie's head and two black clad legs, one folded inhumanly under the other.

"No, no... please..." His whispered plea was caught by Schanke as he closed in on his strangely frantic partner.

"Nick, what's up? You know this guy?"

"I..." Nick shook his head, unable to move or tear his eyes from the window. Schanke touched his shoulder as Nat turned to look behind her, somehow knowing.... "No...." He read the expression on her face as one of sympathy, and his tears began unheeded.

"Nicholas...." Nick turned, hearing the so-familiar voice pierce his grief. LaCroix was standing in the doorway of the studio, arms slightly raised as if expecting his son's emotional state. Nick stared at him hearing nothing now but the soft voice of his father. "Nicholas." 

"LaCroix...." Nick took several steps towards the older vampire. "Are you real?"

"Yes, mon fils." His voice was as gentle as Nick remembered it as being eight centuries ago. "This is nothing but coincidence, you must believe that."

Nick titled his head, unsure. "What are you doing here?"

"The manager called me. He told me. I knew you would react like this. I know what you've already been through tonight and I did not want you to have to go through any more. I know your fragile state, Nicholas. You're my son."

"How do you know?"

"I was in that... alternate reality with you. I used the link between us. These days it is so rarely that I feel anything from you that the flood of feelings and thoughts almost pulled me down with you. Instead I managed to ... ride the waves to enable me to follow you. I admit I allowed you to suffer for a while, enjoying myself somewhat at your expense. But I only let it run as long as your sanity was not in danger. I broke you out of it the only way I knew how. But *this*, this is not part of that reality. You know that."

Nick looked his father up and down. The black suit was the same; but his pissy smile was now a frown formed in concern. His face crumpled as he shook his head; he was too tired to go through this again, too hungry to deal with his own manufactured alternate reality.

"I killed you...." 

"No." LaCroix's voice was resolute and commanding. "No. This is real. Your captain is your captain, Amanda Cohen. Schanke is as he has always been, your faithful puppy. And you know that if I had been murdered I would not be a prone human form on the floor of the booth, I would be a small pile of ash in the chair." 

Nicholas swallowed, stepping closer to LaCroix, hoping to whatever god there was - sane or insane - that his malevolent sire was for once being straight with him. "Make me believe you," he begged.

One step closer and LaCroix also moved, gathering his rare, vulnerable son up into the circle of his arms. Holding his precious child close and tight, LaCroix wrapped him in the eternal protection he had always offered.

"This is real, Nicholas," he whispered into golden locks. "I am here, you of all people should know that I am not that easy to kill." There was nothing but love and humour in his low, quiet voice, and he felt Nick push closer against him, burying his face into his father's shirt.

Schanke watched the touching scene, a million questions were in his mind, but he simply watched. He had never known Nick to be vulnerable in any sense, and he had believed the tall pale phone-in show presenter to be simply Nick's favourite radio star. But it was obvious now that there was more to it, some relation or other, Schanke guessed. He could not help be moved by the quiet scene before him. Whatever had happened here, and with everything else that had happened tonight, Nick needed this comfort. It really had been a very, very long night.

Nat stepped out from the broadcast booth and her eyes fell on the couple, her expression going from sadness at what she had seen to revulsion and shock.

"Nick."

Her call got Schanke's attention and he turned to frown at her. Nick did not move, yet LaCroix pinned her with a hard stare.

"Once in a while," he murmured, "a son needs his father."

An instant later he had Schanke's heartbeat in his ears and had wiped his final remark from his memories.

"Come, Nicholas. You need to feed and to sleep. Allow me to take care of you this one day." He felt his son's nod of agreement and slowly, carefully lead him from the studio.
//

Again, Nicholas murmured, muttering at his father to sleep. But he could not. He had so wanted this long weekend to be special, he had wanted them to be able to return to Toronto together, with a certain peace between them. Or maybe even stretch this time out a little, persuade Nicholas to take some more time off, to phone in sick or something. But now... now his and Nicholas' relationship was balanced on a knife edge once more. If Schanke reacted badly, Nicholas could quite fairly blame him. Because he had brought Thomas Constantine over. As a favour. LaCroix could feel that murderous streak creeping up on him. He caged it, knowing how dangerous his own beast could be in times of anger. So often in the past he had had to cage it before he had accidentally killed Nicholas in a fit of rage. He loved Nicholas, always had done. Caging it for the sake of Constantine might not be so easy.

He drank in the sight of his son lying close to him, as relaxed as possible under the circumstances, trusting his ancient master again. Constantine had placed all that in jeopardy once more.

//How dare you...?//

The yell of fury echoed through LaCroix's mind, shaking Constantine out of his fitful rest far away, forcing Nicholas to open his eyes here and now.

"Lucien," he whispered, that luscious low bass of his accent-lilted voice sending warming shivers through the old vampire. "Go to sleep. Stop blaming yourself. You cannot hope to control all your children." Nicholas flopped onto his back and regarded his master with tired eyes. He smiled gently, reaching up to touch the side of his sire's face. "Look how I ignored almost every word you said to me." 

LaCroix turned his head slightly to kiss his son's palm. "How can you be so calm?"

Nicholas chuckled at that. "I'm not, believe me. You only have to look a little deeper than you have been doing to see that, to sense exactly what I'm feeling. But as you once told me, guilt only does us harm. And for once LaCroix, you really aren't to blame."

***

The sound was like a rushing river within. He opened his eyes and the rushing began, like water all around him the blood flooded his body. For a moment he knew only the noise, the hurried movement of his own blood, and then... then more.... He could hear his own heartbeat, slow, steady, without purpose. He could see only red, perceive only red, think only in red. Without warning the hunger came over him. The red became crimson. He screamed, and the voice that escaped his lips was not his own. This was a dream. That was all it could be. A dream. Yet the gnawing ache within him was painfully real, and demanding satisfaction. He launched himself from the bed, his own speed almost sickening. He could smell food, some way to quench the terrible starvation that was starting to consume him. His surroundings were unfamiliar, yet the draw to his prey was like a neon sign pointing him in the right direction. He flung the door open and was aware of a gasping, a fear... he could smell the fear. What kind of a dream was this? Not that it mattered. Nothing mattered but the desperate need to quench this hunger, this need.... There were stairs yet he was down them in a moment, his eyes pinned themselves to the figure now facing him. Food was standing before him, satisfaction for the burning craving within his soul. He leapt forward... 

... and his head hit the hard wooden floor with a sickening crack. He roared in anger as he struggled to rise to attack whoever or whatever stood in his way of feeding. Suddenly all he needed was in front of him, close to him. He reared up, determined to kill and feed, all that mattered.... Once again he was thrown back, and the one that held him down was stronger. Again, satiation for his hunger was before him, close... closer than before. In one swift, unstoppable movement he attacked, drinking down his prey's life blood in desperate, hungry gulps....

Nick and LaCroix arrived back at the loft just in time to see a vamped-out Schanke flying for his father, obviously intent on a kill. Nick moved first, intercepting his partner in mid-flight and throwing him back against the floor with all his strength. LaCroix watched in sudden horror as Schanke had then blindly launched an attack on Nicholas. The elder intervened; he was unsure whether or not his son was yet strong enough to ward off such a vicious attack... or maybe he simply did not want another feeding off his precious Nicholas. For whatever reason, with vampiric speed, LaCroix placed himself in the position of prey.

Schanke buried his aching fangs into the wrist of the man before him, his actions now completely apart from his conscious will. Nick rushed to the fridge and grabbed six bottles of human blood, taking them to where his master was slowly being drained.

"LaCroix...." Nick held the first bottle to his father's lips and it was emptied in a matter of seconds. The next bottle, and the third were finished equally as quickly. After the fourth, LaCroix came back to himself, accepting the bottle from his son and continuing to drink slowly, replacing his blood as fast as Schanke could take it. Nicholas' presence at his side was something to concentrate on, something other than the gentle orgasm pulsing through him at the vampire bite.

Nicholas swallowed hard as his father's state soared through the link. He reached up, pushed the bottle away from LaCroix's lips, and kissed him, deep and hard.

//let go//

LaCroix responded almost viciously, deepening the kiss, pushing his tongue against Nicholas', cutting his flesh deliberately on his son's extended fangs, needing Nicholas to share this, to be with him as he felt this. Scant drops of LaCroix's blood dropped to Nicholas' tongue before the wound healed, yet they were enough to drive the sensations of orgasm through him also. Lips parted, eyes closed, Nicholas remained with his mouth mere inches from his father's. LaCroix let his eyes take in his son's exquisite expression as he swallowed down more of the blood. The only thing controlling his actions was the underlying feelings of concern and trepidation ebbing between them... under other circumstances, alone or not, he would have claimed his Nicholas once more, shown him the pleasure innate in their kind; the ecstasy a certain violence could bring to them. But circumstance forced him to reign in the desires building inside. LaCroix moved slightly to rest his forehead against Nicholas' as Schanke drank from him. It seemed like eternity that they sat there.

Neither thought about Constantine. However far he ran would not be far enough to escape LaCroix. No one had ever run that far.

He slowly came awake. The rushing of blood in his ears ceased, the dream faded, and he woke. He was sitting on the floor of Nick's apartment, his head hurt, and his partner was sitting watching him. 

"Nick? What the hell happened?" He rubbed his head as his partner moved to sit more comfortably on the floor than he had been doing. For a long moment, Nick simply looked at him, with more affection than Schanke could ever remember feeling from this man. With a small sigh, Nick took a long drink from the bottle he was holding, all the time watching Schanke closely.

Schanke's eyes followed the bottle in Nick's hands as he raised it to his lips and drank. He felt suddenly warm, watching Nick's mouth open for the liquid to run over his lips in what was an almost sensual caress.... Schanke shook himself; what was he thinking... about his partner.... He pulled his gaze away, wondering what the hell had come over him. When he dared look back, Nick was still watching him with no small measure of understanding. "How are you feeling?" 

Schanke regarded him with confusion. "Odd." He could have sworn that, a moment, ago, he had a headache. "What happened? What am I doing on your floor?"

Nick hesitated, he could feel his father there with him, in spirit at least. The older vampire had left for the Raven to collect supplies - the meagre number of bottles in Nick's personal store had been quickly depleted and a newly born vampire drank a lot more than older ones. 

"Schank...." He shook his head almost imperceptibly, but Schanke saw it and that surprised him. "Why don't we sit on the couch? Umm? More comfortable, wouldn't you say?" Schanke nodded, torn between his questions concerning Nick's odder-than-usual behaviour, and his own... ill feeling. He pushed himself up cautiously, yet he found that he felt better than he had in a long time. He stretched, imagining - maybe - that he could hear his joints popping with the movement. The moved to the couch, Schanke sitting as he usually would, perched on the edge, although slightly more relaxed than usual. Nick sat down sideways, pulling one leg up under him, leaving one foot on the floor. As Schanke sat, Nick risked a glance to his partner's neck; the wound had healed long since.

"What do you remember?" 

Schanke thought back. It was like thinking through a haze, a fog. The more he pushed his way through, the more it cleared, until....

"I went to arrest Constantine. The captain insisted we could tie him to a couple of murders that happened just after you went away. You know how she is about him. So I get over there and he lets me in, as polite as anything, and I ask him to come to the station...." He hesitated, his memories again started to cloud over. "I think he said he would, that he could make it that evening. I told him that the captain could be real insistent about things like that... and then...." 

Nick waited, but no more came. Schanke was staring at the floor, a puzzled expression creasing his features. "And then?" he prompted softly.
"I... I'm not sure. Maybe he attacked me, although I should have been able to win a fight, you know... I mean... I'm a lot younger.... Maybe he had help." Schanke looked directly up at Nick now. "You're on holiday, aren't you?" 

Nick nodded. "I was. I'm sorry... if I'd been here...." He let his eyes drop from the intense gaze now pinned on him. But there was no escaping this, he had to find a way to say it. 

"If you'd been here.... What, Nick? What's up? I'm okay, I mean I'm here, aren't I?"

Nick sighed gently. "In a way." He thought for a moment, and finally he put his middle finger to his mouth and bit himself, drawing blood. Schanke's attention was immediately caught, as he watched with vampiric fascination. Nick lifted his hand, the wound healing but three escaped drops of blood running slowly down his finger; into his palm as he turned his hand. "Schank...." Schanke lifted his eyes to meet those of his partner, and saw the gold flecks now swimming there. He was starting to grow warm inside, the feelings of hunger beginning to return as he moved his gaze from Nick's face to the blood and back.

//Be careful, Nicholas//

Nick brought his hand to his mouth and licked up the blood slowly and methodically. Schanke watched the actions with a growing perception of his own reaction, of his own feelings. "Nick... what are you doing?" 

"Schank, you were right about me." He dropped his hand back to his lap, watching as his partner's eyes followed it momentarily, and then returned to lock with his own. "I'm a vampire." 

Schanke's mouth dropped open. "Nick...." The one stammered word was all he could manage. 

"So is Constantine. Tonight... he attacked you. He bit you and he drank from you. Then he panicked and stopped before he drained you." Nick saw every tiny movement within his partner's eyes as he spoke the very truth. "He brought you across. I'm sorry that we weren't here, we could have stopped him.... I'm sorry." Nicholas fought to keep the tears from his eyes. 

Schanke's smile of disbelief and denial had faded. There was no humour in Nick's expression and something inside him was telling him that his partner spoke the truth. Something Schanke wanted desperately to ignore. "You can't be serious... I mean... your uncle told me...."

"He's not my uncle, he's my father. He's nearly two thousand years old. He brought me across - made me into a vampire - in 1228. Seven hundred and sixty-eight years ago from yesterday." Nicholas' fingers clutched unbidden at the golden ring on his little finger and turned it nervously.

"Nick...."

"You know it's true. All you have to do is hear yourself. Hear me." Nick scooted closer and lifted his hand, placing it over Schanke's eyes, closing them. "Listen to your own heartbeat." His voice changed, lowering, deepening. "Listen to your mind."

The urge to laugh left Schanke the moment he heard Nick's voice. Suddenly his partner had become something more, something powerful, something old; not fragile, but strong with experience and wisdom. He knew then. He could feel it; the life in his veins that was no longer his, but that of another. His mind was no longer a private place; he could sense another, slight presence within.

"Your father."

Nick's voice hummed in his brain, felt rather than heard. He explored slightly further, knowing suddenly that the bounds of his new world were almost unlimited. He felt strong suddenly, exultant, as if nothing and no one could touch him.

"You're wrong."

He was wrong. But he felt so alive, so awake, more aware than he ever had been. He could hear everything, the traffic outside, the hum of the streetlights, the chattering of people... Nick's blood flowing through his veins..... He was hungry again... so hungry.....

Schanke felt something sweep over him, a change more profound than anything else he had ever experienced, as if something within him had been unleashed and was taking control faster than he could comprehend.... He made a leap for the man beside him, fangs exposed, striking for the place that called loudest to him.... 

...he fell forward onto the cushions. Schanke pushed himself back up quickly, the beast growing angry, looking about for it's prey. A heartbeat later Nick was straddling of him, pushing him back in to the couch, holding a bottle to his mouth. The beast drank, gulping down the warm liquid that slowly sated his hunger... and slowly drove the creature back from whence it had come....

Schanke looked up at his partner.

"Nick?"

Nick smiled, embarrassed, and climbed off, lifting one leg and letting himself fall gracefully back into the corner of his couch. He took a swig from the little that remained in the bottle, and placed it onto the floor. "God Nick... I... I tried to.... What the hell is happening?" 

"I told you...." 

"No..." Schanke stood, some part of his mind registering that his movements were faster than they used to be. "No, Nick.... You're talking about myths, vampires... they don't exist. Dracula, Lestat, Bela Lugosi; fiction, imagination. They're not real. And you... Nick, you're just strange." Schanke crossed to the door, yanking it open as Nicholas scrambled off the couch and caught up with his partner in a blink.

"Schank, please listen to me. You need me now. You can't handle this alone, believe me, there are things you need to know."

"No, Nick! Lay off, okay? I'm fine. You're... you're delusional. I'm going home."

Schanke was out and down the stairs faster than Nick could remember being able to move in his first days. Finally he was able to understand a little of what he had put LaCroix through. He followed Schanke down, finding him standing in the courtyard, gazing around in the dark.

"Where's my car?" He asked without turning, knowing - although unsure how - that Nick was standing behind him.

"You didn't drive here, Constantine brought you."

For a moment, Schanke wanted to disagree, wanted to argue with his partner, but he could not. He threw up his hands.

"Fine, I'll walk."

He took a single step before Nick grabbed his shoulder in an unbreakable grip and spun him, hooking his leg between Schanke's two, rendering him immobile for now, unless Schanke really thought about it.

"Nick...."

His name was a warning growl.

"Schank, listen to me. You know I'm telling the truth, a little while ago you reached the same conclusion on your own." Nick could feel the change wash over him in his desperation to get through to his partner; he allowed it to happen, slowly. "Why won't you believe me now?"

Schanke opened his mouth to speak, but his eyes locked with Nick's and he found himself staring into gold-flecked, red orbs. Nicholas cocked his head to one side, opening his mouth slightly and hooking his bottom lip underneath one long fang. He held Schanke's appalled gaze for a moment longer, before pulling back completely. He waited a beat before speaking, waiting to ensure he caged the beast before facing his partner again. Schanke was still staring at him. "It's the truth, Schank. However much I... sometimes hate that fact, it is the truth."

***

LaCroix mentally shook himself, trying to ignore the confused emotions pouring through to him from his son. Janette was standing across from him, hands on hips, waiting for an answer to some question he had not even heard. "What? Sorry...." "I asked you what Constantine has done?"

LaCroix glared at her, fighting to curb his sudden anger. "He has brought over Detective Schanke." LaCroix spoke the words, unsure of exactly what they meant, to him at least.

Janette recovered in a moment, surprised more than shocked. She could always use the extra custom, but Don Schanke...? "Why?"
"I don't know." He met his daughter's stunning eyes and smiled briefly. "Nicholas is with him, they're at the loft. Constantine fled as soon as we arrived, I have not yet bothered to find him."

"I'm assuming you plan to."

His voice dropped, meeting the ice cold temperature of his eyes. "Definitely." He turned, starting to pace the as-yet empty club. It was still early evening. "He has put everything at risk."

Janette had to think for a moment before she worked out what he meant. She smiled, a smile of sensual pleasure, of knowing. She draped her gaze over her father's tall frame. "He is exquisite, is he not?"

"You know how I feel about him, Janette, how I have always felt." He raised his hands to her, palms up. "He's...." He looked at her helpless, unable to find adequate words to describe the feelings his son evoked within him. "Well you know, you brought him to me."

Janette nodded, realizing slight a jealousy of her father and surprising herself. Her feelings for her brother were only lustful ones these days; she could not help but remember with crystal clarity Nicholas'... skills, his thrilling ability to let go, to give all of himself to a lover.... She shivered and stole a guilty glance up at her father. He was smiling now, nodding in sympathy. "My thoughts precisely. I have finally got everything I have ever wanted within my grasp and that... idiot, that old fool puts it all at risk. And for what?"

"LaCroix, Nichola can't blame you for what Constantine did, he wouldn't." LaCroix's fated expression said otherwise but she shook her head. "He loves you, he has always loved you and finally he has found it within himself to let go of his ill-conceived quest for a cure, and has returned to you." She approached him, taking his hands in hers. "To take that step took more than you could imagine, he will not give it up so easily."

LaCroix nodded and smiled. "Maybe, ma cherie, but still... I cannot forgive this stupid action." He turned his hands in hers and squeezed them before pulling away. "I need blood. The newest member of our family is hungry, and I will not allow him to feed off my son."

Janette giggled softly. "Really, Father, you are such a romantic at heart."

"Umm...." LaCroix disappeared down into the cellar, still muttering to himself, making Janette smile all the more.

***

He had preferred it out here, he had wanted to stay out here, and so they were sitting in the courtyard in the shadow of the converted warehouse. Schanke had commented on how warm the night air was, but Nick had informed him that he would no longer feel the cold. Nor, he mused sadly, would he ever feel the warmth of the sun. Schanke did not want to hear it. He did not want to accept anything Nick had to say, and so for a long time they sat in silence, the stars clear overhead.

After a while, Schanke had shifted slightly closer to his partner. Whatever was really happening, this was Nick, he trusted Nick, he knew him. Or did he. "Tell me... about you." 

Nick smiled and stopped playing with the small stones on the ground between his crossed legs. "Me? I'm... me. My true name is Nicholas de Brabant, I was a knight of the crusades. A disillusioned one. I met Janette in Paris early 1228. She seduced me, I fell in love with her, and she asked me if I would like an eternity of nights of passion. She finally introduced me to Lucien LaCroix." 

"The Nightcrawler guy?"

"Yes... the Nightcrawler. He brought me across." 

Schanke frowned. "You wanted this?" 

"Yes." Nick smiled to himself. "Although there have been a great many years that I spent regretting it. I... wasn't what you would call a model son. Then again, LaCroix wasn't ever Father of the Year." 

"So... that photo I found... it is of you, not your grandparents?" 

"It is of us. I forget exactly when it was taken, I didn't realize Janette kept a copy." He cautiously reached out with his mind, and touched his partner's, gauging his friend's state of mental balance, unnoticed by the other. "I have been around a very long time. It makes for a lot of stories, most of which you wouldn't want to hear." 

Schanke shook his head and rose to his feet, his actions feeling somewhat lighter than they had before. "Nick... I probably don't want to ask this... but the reason we work nights.... The sun?" 

"I tend to smoke, then erupt in flames. Spontaneous combustion." He grinned up at his partner. "Not particularly pleasant."

Schanke shook his head. "Nick, this can't be for real...."

Nick stood now before his partner. In a voice that was nothing more than a gentle caress, he said softly, "You have no choice, Don. This is for real. This is for eternity."

"Nick...." The blond vampire could sense the beginnings of abject panic, and sought to ease them. He started to rub his hand up and down Schanke's arm, seeking to reassure.

"I'll be here for you, constantly, I promise. I'll help you." Schanke's eyebrows rose, he stared at Nick for a moment and then pulled away roughly.

"You really are nuts. Whatever is wrong with me, it ain't something weird, okay? It's... it's probably flu or something."

"It's not flu! Why won't you believe your own feelings?"

Schanke shook his head and turned, forcing himself to move with human speed. "Leave me alone, Nick."

"Schank, wait...."

Schanke brushed him off with a wave of his hand without even turning. Nick was about to go after him when a gentle hand on his own arm stopped him.

"Let him go."

"LaCroix, I can't. He needs to understand. When I didn't know what I was I almost killed myself by going outside." Desperation started to creep into the soft voice. "I somehow have to make him understand."

The older vampire thought this over for a moment, and then asked, "May I?"

Nicholas turned slightly, pressing himself against his master's firm body. It was so reassuring just to have him there, as if his mere presence could solve any problem. "Be gentle, LaCroix."

The elder dropped a chaste kiss to his son's forehead. "Go inside, pour three glasses of bloodwine, relax. All right?" Nick nodded against the cool lips still pressed lightly against his skin.

A moment later the two vampires moved apart.

"Detective Schanke," LaCroix called, catching up with his young grandson in a single motion. 

Schanke stopped at the sound of the familiar voice. When he saw LaCroix standing just behind him, he frowned. "The Nightcrawler guy, right?" 

"Yes. I believe the last time we met, you were asking me whether Nicholas was... a vampire. Does my memory serve me correctly?" Schanke nodded, but started to walk again. LaCroix matched his pace, walking was a lost pleasure he believed. "I lied to you, Detective. I had no choice then, but now... now you're family."

Schanke stopped again and span, bunching the front of LaCroix's shirt up in his fist. "Whatever is going on here, it's gonna stop. If this is some kinda joke...."

LaCroix kept his voice measured, more amused by this younger's actions then angered. How many times had Nicholas faced him off in this manner... how many times had he been distracted from their fights by his son's delicious lips so close to his own, by the feel of Nicholas' breath against his face.... A warning struck him, arcing swiftly through the link with his favourite; a warning to keep his mind on the job in hand. He sighed. Even though he had eternity, he sometimes felt he was wasting his unlimited time. But this was for Nicholas, this was his fault, indirectly. His son would never forgive him if this man went home, drank from his wife and daughter and then accidentally committed suicide by going to work.

"Detective.... You were so convinced when you came to see me that night. Now you are not allowing yourself to accept this because you are scared. There's really no need to be." He smiled conspiratorially, and lowered his crooning voice to a whisper. "Not all of us are as miserable as Nicholas, believe me." In response to the mental slap he received, he sent a wave of deep affection back while keeping the expression he wore. Silently he wondered how different Nicholas' reaction would have been to all this is they had not been reconciled, if he had not finally accepted his nature and come full circle to at last embrace it.

"I have a family, Mr...."

"LaCroix, please, just LaCroix."

Schanke nodded, trying to keep his own eyes locked with the intense, cold gaze he was pinned under, and finding himself unable to. "I have a family. They need me. I need them. Whatever is going on with Nick, it's his problem. I'm sorry, I love the guy, but that's the way it is." LaCroix seemed to take that in, and for a moment Schanke thought he caught a warmth in the man's naturally cool expression. He waited, sure that LaCroix was going to speak, but no words were forthcoming. Finally, Schanke just shook his head. "I have to go." He stepped back but was stopped by a firm grip on his shoulder.

"I can't allow you to leave. Nicholas would not be happy with me, and he has been unhappy with me for a long, long time."

Schanke frowned, caught for a moment by the sad words. "How can you say that? Nick... he adores you. He listens to your show all the time, he keeps a photo of you in his desk...." LaCroix's eyes widened. "You're family, he's the kind of guy to love his family."

LaCroix chuckled, thinking how right that statement had become in recent weeks. A photo in his desk... that was an interesting insight. He banished it before Nicholas could read it and prepare some sort of banal excuse. He set his mind back to what he was supposed to be doing. "I too love my family, Detective Schanke. I would protect Nicholas with my eternal life. You are now a part of that family, whether you like it or not. Constantine is another of my children I'm afraid. He somehow, clumsily, made you what you now are. You can't deny that simply by walking away from me."

Schanke felt a chill settle within him at the total certainty and the pure statement in the other man's voice. He could feel... something different within himself, something alien, something he knew he was, even now, trying to bury deep. Was this what Nick was...? was his partner finally being truthful with him? "I need... some time...."

"Of course. But I shall not go far."

Schanke again tried to walk away and this time he was not stopped. His mind was racing and all he could think about right now was how much of this made sense. He had believed once that Nick was a vampire simply because it seemed to be the only answer to all the unanswered questions that two years with his partner had left him with. The way he suddenly disappeared, the blood-hound honed instincts, the speed with which he could reach a running suspect or a crime scene, the wealth of experience and insight he seemed to possess. Yet there was more - the allergy to the sun, the blood kept in his fridge, his uncanny ability to survive direct bullets pumped into his body.

When he thought about vampires he saw Dracula, fangs extended, blood dripping from his mouth, cracked mirrors showing no reflection. Did Nick have a reflection... sure he did.... Nick was a gentle person, a little odd, a little quiet and withdrawn, but then he probably wanted his personal life to stay as just that. He tried to remember back to that first discussion with LaCroix.

//"Nicholas doesn't like to kill people either."//

Schanke thrust his hands deep into his pockets and turned the corner, heading into the city without really thinking about his direction. He could sense the stranger was still close by, a sense he did not wish to explore too deeply. Yet something had changed however much he strenuously denied it, he could not push aside all the strange sensations periodically flowing over him. Sounds were clearer, images sharper, scents stronger. The city no longer held any threat to him; something he felt with total conviction. Yet what all this meant, he could not fathom. He could not believe that either Nick or his uncle... father... whatever LaCroix was to his partner, were saying bore any semblance of truth.

He continued to walk, finally coming to the outskirts of the centre of the city. Before tonight he would not have ever thought of walking through this particular area alone. Now he thought nothing of it, not consciously but with a self-assurance that was streaming through him. Street lamps did not illuminate these roads and alleys. Rubbish piles dumped on the sidewalks often turned out to have people living in them. A deprived, dangerous neighbourhood so many people needed to pretend did not exist. He strolled with the confidence of a protected man, and the distant air of someone whose physical safety held less importance than his problems. People like this seldom made it through the night unless they were deadly serious. Schanke had seen Nick walk into this neighbourhood alone on so many occasions, and each time had been pleasantly surprised when he had walked out of it again in one piece, without bits missing or hanging off. Nick came to this place as if it was his home, and now Schanke thought that maybe he too could hold that same belief.

So it was with very little surprise that he heard the soft click of a switchblade being released, and felt, barely a moment later, the deadly sting of a blade against his throat. He could feel the heat and fear of the man behind him. He had always thought men like this one to be cowards, now he knew he was right.

"I'll take everything you have," the voice in his ear rasped.

Schanke felt... warm, hungry all of a sudden; very hungry and very, very angry. In one swift movement he knocked the blade away from his neck and caught the man's arm, twisting it as he turned, locking his grip and breaking the bone without a moment's thought. The man dropped the knife, screaming as Schanke pulled him closer, pushing his head to one side, exposing the filthy neck to the raging hunger within him. With an inhuman roar, the beast moved to strike at its prey.

Schanke came back to himself suddenly, jarring as he felt the vice-tight grip around his own throat from behind; not enough to choke him, but enough to hold him very still. And this attacker would not be loosened. He looked down and saw the man who had initially threatened him staring up at him now with stark terror in his eyes. He realized then that there was liquid dripping from his own lips and he raised his hand to wipe at it, gazing at his fingers in horror; they were covered in blood.

"Feeling better?" The voice came from behind him and he knew then that it was LaCroix who held him firmly.

"What... what happened?"

"This fool tried to mug you. I thought about letting you take your well-deserved revenge, but as I once told you I think, Nicholas is very against killing for food, and he would not forgive me for allowing you to start off on that path."

Schanke was still staring at the man on the ground. What he hell had he been about to do? He remembered earlier on, when he had almost attacked Nick... if his partner had not been fast enough.... LaCroix was still holding him, obviously unsure whether he was going to attack again. "I'm... I'm okay. You can let go." A moment's pause, during which Schanke thought he sensed someone in his mind, and then he was released. He stepped forward and turned slightly, regarding LaCroix with some suspicion. "I dread to ask...." He raised his hands, showing the other man the blood drying there. "Whose is this?"

LaCroix thought for a moment, and decided on being absolutely truthful. "Mine. You were hungry." He shook slightly, allowing the shudder of the sensations to pass through to Nicholas, along with the growing need for his son. He felt Nicholas respond in kind, but with the addition of concern and worry for his partner. LaCroix stepped around Schanke, looking down at the frightened attacker who was still watching them with wild eyes. Some sort of damage control had to be instigated. Up until a couple of weeks ago he would have simply taken his feed from the man and disposed of the body with the ease of experience. But Nicholas was keeping a close watch on him, and he knew his child would not appreciate the action. Sighing he knelt down and concentrated, hearing the mortal heartbeat fluctuating wildly.

"Listen to me," he started, "you tried to attack a man and he fought you. He ran away. There was nothing strange about him, you will continue this night as if nothing happened."

As Schanke watched the exchange he saw what was almost rapture cross his attacker's face. LaCroix's deepened voice was having a hypnotic effect, entrancing the man with absolute ease. After several seconds, he stood, reluctantly giving him a hand up, much to Nicholas' amusement. As he watched the man run off he turned to Schanke and when he spoke his voice held its usual seductive timbre. "Are you any closer to believing what we've told you?"

Schanke had trouble breaking his stare after his would-be killer. He nodded hesitantly. "Yeah, yeah I am."

"Good. Then would you mind if we returned to Nicholas' loft? He's getting very worked up."

They started to walk back in the direction they had come. "How do you know what Nick's feeling? Or was that just a guess?"

LaCroix smiled fondly, an expression which looked almost out of place on his pale features. "We... sense each other. In the past I have known when he was in pain, when he was frightened or hurt. I could even sometimes do more.... Now though, we have reached... a peace together and our mental link is stronger. LaCroix closed his eyes for a moment, never breaking his stride, and when he opened them he was smiling. "He's watching an old film, a favourite of ours. He's restless, worried about you."

Schanke frowned up at him. "You feel all that?" LaCroix nodded. "It must be weird, having someone else in your head all the time."

"On the contrary, it would be a lonely hell without Nicholas there." His frank answer, a simple statement of fact, surprised Schanke and warmed Nick.

Schanke let his smile fade. "Is that what your... way of life is? Hell?"

LaCroix's eyes widened. "Not at all. No. I know Nicholas has often thought of it that way, but most of us enjoy living like this, eternally, watching how things change, so subtly over small periods of time yet so drastically over the decades and centuries. Life takes on a whole new perspective when you know you have eternity; all the time in the world." He paused. "Nicholas means a great deal to me and for a very long time I believed I had lost him."

Schanke watched the taller man as he walked, now lost in thought. Whatever was happening to him, whatever had happened, he felt glad that this man seemed to be his friend, for whatever reason. Something told him that being his enemy would be an immensely unpleasant experience.

Nick watched the two men step into the loft, trying his level best not to look like a worried mother. His eyes flicked from LaCroix to Schanke and back, attempting to discern the mood of both vampires. LaCroix seemed amused and agitated simultaneously, and Nick understood his master's feelings very precisely. Schanke was harder to read, for obvious reasons, but his partner did seem calmer, more thoughtful. LaCroix stepped close to his son as Schanke moved silently into the room and crossed slowly to the windows. Nicholas slipped his arm around his sire's waist as he drew closer.

"Nicholas, I wonder if I may leave this in your capable hands for ten minutes, mon amant, I need...."

Nick nodded with complete understanding. "Of course." With Schanke's back turned to them, father and son exchanged a brief kiss with parted lips, LaCroix breathing his son in deeply, taking that single memory with him as they released each other with more than a little reluctance. The elder flew upstairs, intent on a severely cold shower as Nick moved to join Schanke.

"I almost killed a man, Nick." Schanke spoke without turning from the view of the city suburb. 

"I know." Schanke stopped himself before he asked how. He guessed the strange mental link LaCroix had with Nick worked both ways. "You will learn to control it." 

Throwing his hands in the air, he backed away. "Are you hearing me? I almost killed a man." He shook his head, turning again, starting to pace. "What's happening to me? What am I becoming?" 

"A vampire." Schanke froze at the timbre of the voice that had spoken. The words had been a seductive caress, never mind that they had come from his partner's mouth. The owner of that voice knew no bounds, and Schanke found himself drawn inescapably towards the hand held out to him. "Nothing more, nothing less." Staring, unblinking into the gold-tinted blue that regarded him he felt as if Nick were all that existed, as if Nick was everything and he would do anything, be anything that Nick asked him to be. "Everything will change, but you have to let it, you have to work to control the hunger, to know when to feed it and how to use it. You must never allow it to control you. You will learn control, Don, I will teach you. But you have to trust me. And you have to believe me."

LaCroix's hands dropped of their own accord to his straining erection. Wherever Nicholas had pulled these words of inspiration from, coupled with his low tones of enthral, they were having the most exquisite effect. But he was loathe to take things into his own hands - he had always been loathed to do it, always been able to find a willing or, in the odd case a long time ago, unwilling companion, but now he had Nicholas.... He turned the water temperature down another notch.

Nick had selected his phrases carefully, holding Schanke easily in the enthral, their hands joined, his slight mental link to the vampire within his partner making the process all the easier. He just wanted to calm, and to push the truth upon him. By the change in Schanke's whole aura, Nick guessed it had worked. He let go mentally and physically, and the pulsing of LaCroix's arousal hit him hard. He fought to keep control, slamming down his old mental barriers before it was too late and he was unable to do so. Schanke was still staring at him, and he flushed slightly. "Sorry." 

"What was that?"

"The vampire's enthral," he said with a small flourish. "I just wanted... to relax you."

Schanke smiled sincerely. "Thank you. I guess I lost it for a while there."

"It's hardly surprising. The control will come, I promise."

"This is real isn't it? I mean you... you are...."

"Yes." Schanke shook his head, more now in disbelief than in denial. He turned from Nick and started to pace the loft. "Talk to me, Schank, tell me what you're feeling. I can help."

Schanke thought for a while, his pacing getting more agitated before he felt it within him. "I feel... I'm..." He gestured uselessly with his hands. "It's like restlessness. Like I'm all wound up and I need to release it, but I don't know what it is... or what to do about it."

Nick nodded. He understood perfectly. For the few days after he was brought across he was sexually insatiable. He had taken Janette over and over again, basking in her beauty and her desire. But he had worn her out eventually and on the fifth day he had entered her bedroom to find LaCroix lazing there.

//
The candlelight played on his pale skin, covered only partially by a silken robe. He lay on his side, supported on one elbow, smiling at Nicholas in a way that assured the young vampire that he would comply with anything. "Janette is quite... sated from your days and nights of playing. She asked me to... stand in for her while she rested." He raised his eyebrows. "I assume you have no objections....?" 

"LaCroix... you're... you're a man."

"Well observed, Nicholas. Janette always did like her men to have an intelligent mind."

Nicholas shook his head. "I won't, LaCroix... it's wrong."

The Elder rose from the bed and crossed the room with lightening speed, preventing Nicholas from fleeing. He stopped close enough to breath in his new son deeply, causing him to swoon slightly. "Come, Nicholas. What's so wrong about... indulging our pleasures? Umm?" He ran a single finger-tip down the cotton-covered arm of his newest child. Nicholas looked so... appealing in the transparent gown he wore - like the one he was wearing that first night....

LaCroix's phallus was pushing through the join of his loosely tied robe, and he stepped forward slightly, allowing Nicholas to feel his excitement, hoping the boy would consent to at least getting down on his knees.... Nicholas pushed at LaCroix violently, angrily, and LaCroix retaliated, grabbing Nicholas by the wrist and throwing him bodily down onto the large, high bed.

"I gave you your new life," the Elder growled as he stepped purposefully towards his terrified son. "You could at least be grateful."

Nicholas shook his head, backing away, but knowing that it was impossible... or maybe... maybe if he waited long enough... if he waited and then flew for the door.... LaCroix was above him, straddling him, before the next thought.

"I can sense every thought that you have, Nicholas," the old vampire rasped. "You can never beat me. I will always know your plans and your schemes.... Tell me Nicholas, do you not think that it would be wiser to surrender to me now? You would save yourself so much future pain."
Nicholas struggled, but he was no match for the Elder, and he soon found himself on his stomach, his gown torn, a thick hardness pressed against that most private of places.....
//

//"NO!!!!"//

Nick was shaken from his memory by the cry of denial in his mind, and Schanke almost leapt ten feet back at the shout from the balcony. LaCroix was standing in the darkness, one of Nick's robes wrapped around his dripping form. His eyes were blazing ochre, the sight resembling a fox caught in the headlights of a car. Nick said nothing for a moment, blinking back a tear. Then he smiled softly. Too much had passed between them these few weeks, too much beauty and love and willing desire. That night, that first night, had been a very long time ago.

"Please, Nicholas, don't...." His voice was calmer now, a soft plea almost, affected by the soft tremors coming from their link.

"It's all right, Lucien," Nick murmured, so gentle it reassured LaCroix easily. "Just memories, nothing more." Nick felt a wave of deep suspicion and fear, and then it was gone, and LaCroix stepped back into the darkness of upstairs.

The blond vampire turned back to Schanke, reading the puzzled, startled look on his face. "What was that all about?!"

"Nothing." He hesitated. "You remember all those times you accused me of not listening to you?" Schanke nodded, smiling slightly. "Memories, flashbacks, I tend to draw on experience quite a bit, you do when you have eight hundred years to look back on."

"And you just....?"

"I just remembered something LaCroix would prefer me not to dwell upon. We haven't always been... as close as we have become." Schanke nodded slightly, accepting Nick's explanation. "You said you were restless.... I know that feeling well. I'll take you somewhere... maybe you can work off some of that energy."

***

Nick drove them to the club via the precinct, where he spent a couple of minutes with Captain Cohen, convincing her that her two star detectives were involved in out-of-town investigations concerning a case they had been working on; there was no need to worry even if no one heard from them for a week or two. The search could be called off. There would be some embarrassment somewhere, but he could not really help that. It was difficult to think all the threads through when you were creating new memories.

Janette's eyes widened when she saw the odd couple step into the club. She greeted Nick with her usual teasing caress, yet he had noted of late that she was a little more... discrete than usual, probably unwilling to risk her father's wrath. He realized with a start, he was being regarded with the utmost respect. Even Schanke had noticed the crowds parting for them as they headed through the dancers toward the bar. Janette was hanging on Nick's arm, a slightly predatory expression on her face.

"Where is LaCroix?"

Nick smiled at her tone. "Don't worry, I haven't killed him. He is off looking for Constantine."

"Ahhh... then you are not angry with him, Nichola? He loves you so...." She was cut off by his sharp glance, and his finger at her lips.

"Ssh, Janette." His momentary flicker of eyes towards his partner explained that his and LaCroix's intimate relationship had not yet become a conversation topic with the newest member of their family. "Your worries over LaCroix are unfounded, Janette. Don't worry."

She nodded, and took her leave of them, although she continued to watch them as her desire for her ex-lover became stronger with every move. Since his reconciliation with their sire, Nicholas had become more open to them, more aware of them and in turn she had become once more all-too aware of him. His innate sensuality that she had fallen in love with so long ago, his pulsing sexuality that had drawn her to him in the beginning and pushed her to ask LaCroix to give him to her, were all now returned to him. He would have been irresistible to her, were their father not so totally besotted with him. Janette sighed and headed for the cellar to find a good vintage in which to drown her sorrows. Maybe in a while she would find some company to distract her.

Nick ordered the drinks and turned to watch Schanke, who was looking around the club with an expression of bewilderment. Nick touched his arm gently and carefully, knowing how the hunger of a new-born vampire could strike without warning. "Schanke?" 

"It's... Nick, I've been here before, but there's something different... these people...." Schanke started into the gyrating crowd of dancers, stopped only by the iron grip on his arm of his partner. He came back, silent understanding of what Nick was doing flooding his mind.

"It's okay, Schanke. Enjoy yourself. Just be careful. Have a drink." 

Schanke turned, accepting the glass from his partner, and noting the courtesy being afforded Nick by the barman and the other patrons of the club. As they moved from the bar, Schanke gave his partner what Nick recognized as a very familiar look. "I take it you're known around here." 

Nick chuckled. "It's LaCroix." Off Schanke's puzzled expression, he expanded on his reply. "LaCroix is an ancient vampire, almost 2000 years old. He's a powerful Elder in the Community. And I am his son." He blushed, although it was unseen under the heated lights. "I am his... favourite. I'm treated with as much respect as they would treat him, otherwise...." Nick shrugged, aware of his partner's eyes upon him.

"And I knew nothing of this. No wonder it always felt like you were elsewhere. Knowing you now, and looking back at then, it was like seeing you through a tiny hole, seeing only a small part of you."

Nick gazed at him, touched. "And now?"

"Now... it's like stepping around the wall and seeing the whole picture, and it's a huge picture, Nick."

Nick laughed at that. "There's an awful lot more, Schank. Give it time."

***

He had not known where else to go. The police had been crawling over his townhouse when he had fled there from de Brabant's apartment. He was perched on the roof of the CERK station building, shifting from foot to foot, unsure of what to do or where to go. He had expected LaCroix to come after him immediately, but then, he did have other things to think about. Then. But now, he could feel his father approaching.

He was angry, furious.

Constantine thought for a moment about taking flight, but he knew wherever he went, his immortal father would hunt him down. Maybe by facing LaCroix he could save himself. Still he jumped a little when the Elder landed beside him and hauled him to his feet.

"I will give you one chance to explain yourself to my satisfaction," LaCroix growled.

"I... it was an accident.... He wanted to arrest me, wanted me to go with him... it was almost dawn. I couldn't go with him and I... I panicked."

LaCroix paused. "Not good enough." Constantine felt his old bones hit the roof tiles with a crunching force.

Desperately the don tried to continue. "I thought if I stopped drinking he would survive."

"Oh he did. You made him into one of us."

Constantine sat up slowly, cautiously. "Does it really make that much difference?" LaCroix's eyes flashed as he fought the urge to rip his younger's scrawny throat out.

"Do you know who he is?" He dropped into a crouch, red eyes searching those of his child. "Have you any idea who he is? Did you even bother to find out?"

"He's just a cop...."

"No," LaCroix clenched his fists. "He's not just a cop. He is Nicholas' partner." Constantine blanched. "My son is not happy, and I have had enough of my son not being happy." He rose a single finger. "I gave you eternal life, Don Constantine, as a favour not for you, but for Nicholas. I can take it away from you, never forget that. Don't ever do that again." LaCroix rose and stepped away. "Learn a little hypnosis. Please. You'll find it a very useful skill."

***

Knowing the Cadillac was more than safe outside the club tonight, Nick was more than happy to hang around for a while. Ripples of LaCroix's anger were flowing through the community on a subconscious level, and Nick was safer tonight than he ever was. No one would want to annoy LaCroix any more this night if they thought about it hard enough. He stepped outside and flipped open his mobile, tapping in Nat's number at the Coroner's Building. When it was not answered immediately, he worried that she was not there. But eventually