"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 her over-stressed tones greeted him.

"Nat, it's me."

"Nick! God, where have you been?! There's a full scale search out for Schanke, he's..."

"Nat! I know. It's okay, he's with me."

That immediately raised Nat's suspicions. "Nick, what's up?"

"Nothing. I just need to talk to you. Is there any chance you can come over later?"

There was a pause then, "Sure, Nick. I'll be over after work."

With things as sorted as they could be right now, Nick returned to the bar to join his partner. Janette obviously was not too pleased at having Schanke in her club again, but Nick's continuing presence was enough to keep her calm and a pleasant hostess. She was all but drooling over him by the time LaCroix reappeared a couple of hours later. Any other vampire would have given Nicholas a very wide berth at the Elder's arrival, but Janette merely extracted her hand from where it had settled in the waistband at the back of his trousers.

Schanke was dancing - or trying to - when LaCroix approached his two favourite children. They both looked happy, and LaCroix stayed back for a moment, watching them laughing and chatting. For a moment he experienced a flash of paranoia, seeing the ancient lovers so relaxed together... and then Nicholas looked up and saw him. The smile that lit his face was electric, and LaCroix felt the spark arcing across their mental bond like never before. He was greeted, as he came closer, by his son slipping a possessive arm around his waist and leaning into his neck. Nick could easily read his father's emotions simmering just under the surface, he did not have to ask whether LaCroix had found Constantine. Janette, on the other hand, wanted something to take her mind off Nicholas.

"Did you find him, father?"

"Yes." He glanced down at Nick, but again, no words were needed.

***

Nat knocked once before sliding open the loft door. Nick was standing in the kitchen, glass in one hand, bottle in the other. He smiled at Nat's obvious disapproval as she scowled. She remembered finding out about Nick's return to the fold, late one night when she had gone to the precinct to give him a report he had been waiting for. He had had a certain look in his eyes.... She had known immediately that he had fed on human blood; the change in him was stunning. She had pretended not to notice and left as soon as possible, meaning to corner him sometime when she could speak to him alone. He had come to see her a few hours before dawn and told her a lie; told her that it had finally become too much, that he had gone to the Raven out of sheer desperation and drank his way through several bottles. Only the following day had she found out the real truth behind Nick's sudden cheerfulness and lust for life.

//
As they stood face to face in her lab Nick had realized with a heavy heart what she had heard.

"I seldom listen to the show as you know, but last night...." She gazed at him, her emotions clear in her eyes. It had had to have been one of them, and in the end there really had not been a decision to make.

"But last night you did listen, and you heard his dedication..."

"Dedications, plural, Nick."

A brief smile tinted his lips at the memory of the previous night. LaCroix had gone mad. Each and every track he had played had been a love song, of sorts, and every one he had dedicated to 'his beloved Nicholas', or 'his beautiful amant', or one of many varied terms of passionate affection. He had opened up the unusual topics of favourite sexual fantasies and the joys of sex outdoors under the naked moonlight, and given lots of cheery advice to his bewildered callers.

Nick turned to lean against one of the metal tables. "Nat, I'm sorry. It... it happened."

"It happened? What 'happened'?" Her eyes become stony, her emotions now buried. "What could have possibly 'happened' to make you want to return to someone who you spent so long breaking away from?"

Nick shook his head, smiling gently. "He was so... wonderful, after the attack. You have no idea how reverently he took care of me. I finally realized just how much he did still love me. I saw that, rather than seeing simply an impenetrable wall of anger that I had no hope in breaking through. I think all he had to do was to let go. Once he was no longer pulling at me, trying to manipulate me.... We were close, once, you know that. We just seem to have found that closeness again."

Nat closed her eyes, sighing, exasperated and hurt. "Is it really what you want? Or is he making you do this?"

He pushed himself up to sit on the table, watching her as she started to pace back and forth. "Do you honestly think that if I didn't want it, I would be allowing him to get so close?"

She threw her hands in the air. "I don't know. So often I feel that I hardly know you, but this.... We've worked so hard, Nick, come so near to curing you."

"Nat, no we haven't." He indicated himself. "This isn't a virus, it isn't some disease that can be cured. You *know* that, you just won't admit it."

She turned on him then, nailing him with a hard stare. "That's not you talking. That's him." Smiling with some amusement, Nick shook his head, but it only made her anger worse. "He has a hold on you so tight that you can't pull away. At every juncture he's been there, making it impossible for you to ever leave him."

Nick did not know what to say to that, so he wiped the smile off his face and simply looked at her.

Finally she stopped pacing and came to stand in front of him. "Tell me that you don't love me." She whispered softly.

"I can't. I do love you. But I love him too. And... however much you want to deny it, I am a vampire. I need more, much more. I need passion, desire, lust, violence, blood... I need it all. Three years of celibacy has almost driven me insane."

"So your feelings for me, mine for you, *our* love doesn't come into it? Is that what you're saying?"

"Nat... it's different for us. Love... love is usually eternal, but it's not the love you're talking about. For us it's... it's separate almost. Love comes with time, with shared history and experience, with the blood exchange.... Love does matter, it does make a difference. To trust completely, to share yourself completely, that takes love. But the physical side, the sex, the feeding and being fed, they're needs that have to be filled. LaCroix completes me."

"But... Nick, you've managed... for three years you've been without."

"No... no I haven't. There have been... slips." He looked up at her, now with playful guilt in his eyes.

She was not amused. "When?"

He decided to mention only a couple of times, let her believe that they were just slips at times of increased stress. "After the case a year or so ago, the psychologist killing her patients for possession of them," Nat nodded, remembering. "I spent a night with Janette, indulging the vampire." She looked at him, expecting more. "And... a couple of days after I was shot in the head... when you left that night, telling me to rest, I went to LaCroix. I wanted to know all about myself, about our family and our history."

Nat scoffed. "So you went to him for help and he took advantage of you."

Nick leaned forward. "I wanted it, Nat. I asked him, I seduced him. I could hardly remember the animosity between us. I could only feel.. something special, something intense between us." He gazed at her imploringly. "He's not always to blame. And he isn't to blame this time. I went to him. I asked him to take me back because I realized the moment he let go, how much I didn't want him to."

Nat shook her head. "I don't even want to know what that means." She stepped back, away from him. "I need time, Nick. I need time to think all this over."

He nodded and dropped down off the table, starting toward the door. Before he left, he turned to her and met her misted eyes. "I am sorry, Nat. I truly am."
//

Now he had that same look in his eyes as he had then; guilt and sorrow laced with a desperate happiness and a glowing lust. It was such a dangerous mix.... She smiled at him, taking a deep breath, noticing how stunning he looked. There had been a vitality in his presence since his return to LaCroix that she could neither ignore nor deny. Tonight, he was dressed in a white silk shirt and black jacket and trousers that looked soft and comfortable. His lips were red - alive - against his pale face and deep blue eyes, his hair brushed back but still slightly riotous. His whole appearance exuded sensuality. He was so much a vampire now, and despite her struggle to remove him from that existence and pull him into her own, she had to admit that the aura suited him. God, how she envied LaCroix sometimes.

"How was Washington?" she asked, finally breaking the heated silence but unsure if she really wanted an answer.

"Wonderful." He was sincere, and she noticed the band of gold on his little finger as he put the bottle down on the side board.

"I should wish you a happy birthday."

He tilted his head slightly. "You don't have to." He stepped past her, walking into the lounge. "I have some bad news, and I'm not sure how to tell you."

Her heart sank. He was leaving. LaCroix had finally got what he wanted and was dragging Nick away before he could change his mind. She looked up, meeting his gaze and voicing her fears. But he shook his head. "I'm not leaving. In fact, at the moment, I have more reason to stay...."

Oh. God. She knew then, the look in his eyes. "LaCroix's done something."

"No, not this time. But one of our kind has. One of us has brought someone across."

She frowned. "Who, Nick?"

"Schanke."

Nat stared at him for a moment, trying to find the humour in his features but failing. "My God, you're serious."

"I'm sorry, Nat."

"Oh Nick...." She looked around. "Where is he?"

"Over at the club, with LaCroix."

Her eyes widened. "Is he safe?"

"Safer than he's ever been," Nick reassured her truthfully. "LaCroix's been wonderful because he knows if he makes one wrong move I'll kill him."

Nat shook her head slowly. She wandered over and dropped onto the couch. "How is he? Does he know what's happened?"

Nick sat down next to her, his hands pressed together. "He knows, but he doesn't accept it, despite the fact that he's drunk from LaCroix twice, almost killed an unfortunate mugger, and been through at least two bottles worth of blood."

Her head snapped up. "You don't... he won't...." Images of her brother after Nick had brought him across, of him being staked by Nick, flooded her mind. "Richard...."

But Nick shook his head. "He's not shown any signs of rage. He just needs to get it under control. LaCroix is a good teacher."

"Oh please, after what he put you through...."

"He won't lay a finger on Schanke, don't worry. For one he's not LaCroix's type and two, he's not LaCroix's own son."

She looked across at him, shock clear in her eyes. "Dare I ask who?"

"I... I can't tell you." She frowned until he added, "It is for your own safety."

She nodded at that, understanding slightly. "Nick... I don't know what to feel or how to react."

"I know. I just... I wanted to tell you. We will be back at work, I hope, but I've persuaded Cohen that Schank and I both have this week off."

"Persuaded?"

"Okay, hypnotized. But it had to be done. Schanke has to understand what's happening. And then we have to deal with Myra and Jenny...."

She did not know quite what to say. "What will happen?"

"I don't know. He can't go back to them... unless he brings them over and I can't let him do that. Maybe... maybe he'll leave the city... I don't know. I just wish this all wasn't happening."

***

Nick stepped into the bathroom and closed the door quietly, not wanting to disturb the sleeping vampire in the lounge. When they had returned to Nick's loft from the club, LaCroix had brought out a bottle of blood wine, and watched as Schanke had downed it in one. Minutes later, he had been asleep. He would easily sleep through the day now.

Suddenly a hand was clasped over his mouth and he jumped, turning to be encircled in LaCroix's arms. "How did you....?"

LaCroix did not answer, just gave him that infuriating grin of his and sealed his mouth over his son's. Nick melted easily into the kiss, thrusting his tongue into his father's mouth in an almost desperate gesture. LaCroix more than understood. He dropped his hand down his child's back, pressing at the base of his spine. Nick groaned, rubbing himself against the opposite hardness, feeling like he could come simply from the friction. But LaCroix had other ideas. He backed away suddenly, breaking the kiss, shattering Nick's fall into oblivious pleasure; a place he so wanted to be. LaCroix smiled, reading his son's thoughts and muddled emotions clearly.

"You want to use me, Nicholas?" There was caring amusement, and unfailing love in his voice.

"Yes." This was part of what they were, and it was part of what he and LaCroix could be to each other; lovers and providers.

"I will let you, amant." LaCroix slipped quickly out of his clothes, reaching in to the large shower cubicle and turning on the water. Returning to his son, he unfastened Nick's trousers, and let them fall to the floor along with his jacket, his briefs following. LaCroix smiled, and stepped sideways into the shower, reaching for Nick's hand. Without hesitation, Nick stepped in after him, the warm water immediately soaking his shirt, plastering it transparently to his chest and buttocks. LaCroix pulled him close, one hand in the small of his back, the other cupping the back of his head, tilting his face upwards. Nicholas closed his eyes as LaCroix's mouth claimed his once more. Water poured between them, running over their faces; they tasted it flooding into their kiss as lips moved together. LaCroix's large hands came up to frame Nick's face for a moment, his long fingers brushing through wet hair, thumbs rubbing against moistened skin.

Very, very gently, LaCroix exerted his will over his son's mind, pushing him to relax, to lose himself in the sensations of the running water, in the luxurious probing of the tongue in his mouth, in the feel of loving fingers on his skin. LaCroix slipped the buttons on Nick's shirt open with ease, and pushed the sides of the garment apart, the water gluing them in place once more, leaving Nick's chest exposed to his sire's ministrations.

Exquisite fingers flicked at the hardened buds of his nipples, the delicate skin surrounding them puckered under the sharply running shower. Nick gasped, his head going back, water flowing over his lips, before the need within him pushed through LaCroix's subtle control and drove Nick to act. Leaning forward, he nuzzled LaCroix's neck, drawing a deep moan from his sire, his hands began to roam over moistened skin, teasing finger tips tracing paths of fire over the pale flesh before him.

Bathing himself in his master's moans, Nick dropped slowly to his knees, his face filling with LaCroix's still-stiffening erection. Smiling, moving his hands around to the tight buttocks waiting for him, he pressed his lips to the tip of LaCroix's cock, then slid down applying pressure all the way. LaCroix reached out, pressing his palms to the wall of the shower to steady himself. Nick was sliding his master in and out of his mouth, keeping his lips tight around the thick phallus, preventing water from the shower getting into his mouth and diluting the taste of LaCroix.

Within him, his change was surging, despite him trying to hold it back. As if he sensed his inner fight, LaCroix pressed gently on his mind, pushing him to let go. This was not something for now, this particular control could wait to be practised. Now, Nick needed to release himself, the light and the dark; completely give himself up to what he needed from his father.

Nicholas pulled back totally, and let loose a cry of dangerous, desperate need before he plunged forward, driving himself over LaCroix's cock, swallowing the shaft completely, crushing gently with a swallow in his throat. LaCroix howled, coming suddenly and hard, spilling deep in his son's throat. Nick released his master's ass, raising one wrist and feeling it taken the moment he offered it. He kept LaCroix firmly held, his face pressed into his master's groin, and as fangs sank deeply into his flesh, his blood hit the back of LaCroix's throat causing a second orgasm to flood the older vampire. Nick milked him for every last drop, scraping his teeth over the shaft as he released it before drawing it back in again to taste the droplets of blood he had released. Fangs sank deeper into his wrist, drawing blood in desperate hunger. LaCroix had been bitten into twice tonight by one other than his son, and now he wanted his son to reclaim him, to possess him as he always had, to reaffirm that he needed and wanted his father.

He pulled out of Nick's wrist, holding it firmly. "Please, Nicholas, use me as you wish."

Still on his knees, Nick glared up at his father, his expression a dangerous mix of lust and hunger. "Say what you want, what you're thinking. Voice it. Tell me."

LaCroix's own gold eyes stared into those that regarded him so intensely. He swallowed. "Nicholas...."

"Say it. I need to hear it. I'm more to you now, we're everything to each other, we are each other. Don't run from me or us. Tell me."

Nick's words inflamed LaCroix, and he blinked back very sudden and surprising tears. "Take me, mon fils, possess me. I am yours. I want you to. Fuck me."

Nick smiled, and reclaimed his wrist, turning LaCroix to face the wall, his hands settling on his master's hips.

LaCroix leaned forward, placing his hands on the wet tiles before him, his whole being concentrated on the sensations coming from his son's mind, his son's touch.... Nicholas parted LaCroix's legs, watching for a moment the water running down between his buttocks, then parting those tight cheeks and nuzzling his face between them. LaCroix moaned softly as Nick's tongue licked a long, slick path from his base of his testicles up to the tight ring of his anus. The blond vampire pushed the tip of his tongue against the resistance of the muscled ring, daring it to refuse his entry to this body that he claimed. A low growl escaped his master's throat as Nick pushed further inside, opening LaCroix to him. An equal growl was released when Nick pulled back, and stood, drawing himself up against the length of the firm body before him. He nibbled at his father's neck, nudging his cock between those gorgeous buttocks, pulling back his hips and positioning the tip at the slicked entrance.

"Do it, Nicholas." LaCroix rasped out. He was answered by a long, purposeful thrust forward, slow and languid. The initial pain of Nicholas filling and stretching him subsided. He had long worshipped his son's endowments, full, long and thick, gloriously heavy. He had glimpsed it first on that first night, when Nicholas in his newly-born desire had taken Janette there and then, regardless of LaCroix's eyes upon them.

LaCroix could still remember his sudden envy of Janette as she had ridden that magnificent cock. He had had to have it, one way or another. He wished now that he had chosen another way.

Viciously, LaCroix pushed away the memory, knowing that Nicholas' touching on it earlier had brought it to the forefront of his mind. He did not wish to dwell on it, and Nick did not want him to think about that time either. Now, Nicholas thrust into him with the desire of a lover and the abandonment of a vampire. Nick wrapped his arms around LaCroix's chest, holding him close, thrusting deep. His name was on LaCroix's lips, whispered over and over. And then the mantra stopped, and LaCroix's fangs were being plunged once more into his wrist. Nick's orgasm racked through him, and he stilled, buried deep inside his master, his cock jumping and spurting within. As soon as he came back to himself, he leaned forward, brutally slicing into LaCroix's throat, drinking down his master's elixir as if starved of it for far too long. The vampires soared, rising on the thoughts and emotions pouring through one, into the other, and back, the circle of blood flowing between them. LaCroix could feel nothing, knew nothing but the presence and essence of his son. Nicholas was aware only of his father, master, amant, and the love pouring into him from that source. There was nothing else.

After a time, LaCroix pulled out very gently, licking wounds he had made, soothing them. In his turn, Nicholas drew back too. The water was running cold from the shower, and both noticed as time began to kick in once more. LaCroix turned, embracing his son. "We should move somewhere a little... drier... mon amant." 

"I agree." Nicholas reached out to stop the water and pulled back, stepping out and taking a towel from the rail. LaCroix waited for him to dry off, before stepping out after him and grabbing him, wetting him all over again. Nicholas' laughter was delightful to the elder's ears. It took a few moments to gather up the playful young vampire into his arms, but eventually he collected together four limbs, a torso and a head, trapping them in his embrace and lifting his son off the floor. Nick allowed himself to be carried, to be swept off his feet, to be loved like this by the one man of whom he would allow it; the only one in the world, for all eternity. LaCroix hurried from one room to the other, dropping Nick into the centre of the bed before closing the door and locking it.

"Nicholas," he purred, coming to sit on the bed, near his son. "exactly when are you going to explain our relationship to your friend? Umm?"

Nick shook his head and groaned, turning and pushing his face into the pillows. He muttered something, totally indecipherable, and shook his head again. LaCroix reached out and ran a single finger down his son's spine. Nick shuddered deeply.

"I could tell him," the elder murmured.

"No." Nick was ardent about that. He turned onto his side, looking up at where his master was still seated. "Do you regret that first night, LaCroix? When you... took me for the first time?"

LaCroix's eyes hardened and he drew his hand away from his son. "I have few regrets, Nicholas, but most of them are regarding my treatment of you through the ages." He stared at the wall, entwining his fingers. "I did not know you at the beginning, but I desired you so strongly. I had tasted you, your spirit and your will, in that first joining when I brought you across. I was not used to being refused by one of my own. And you refused me. I was furious and I.... I made a mistake. Your strength when you bit into me was incredible, and I wanted you from that moment. I am... sorry. And yes, I do regret it. I regret every moment that I spent hurting you." He closed his eyes for a moment, and in that moment he felt Nicholas' fingers reach out and wrap around his own.

//"Forgiven"//

LaCroix's eyes flew open and his fixed Nick with a stunned gaze. "What?"

"I forgive you, I forgive it all." LaCroix watched his relaxed son say the impossible words. "And I ask you for forgiveness for all I have done to you in return."

He wanted to laugh, in joy and in shock. Nicholas, his dearest son, was lying naked before him, some seven hundred and seventy years after the night he first brought the young one to his side, forgiving him for eight centuries of pain and hurt and asking for the same forgiveness.

LaCroix turned and stood. "It can't be that simple, Nicholas."

"Why? It's 800 years. We have eternity. I admit that we also have a lot to work through... but I need you now, I need to know that we are together, at peace with each other, to know that whatever else happens, with Schanke, and Nat... that you're here for me, that I can turn around and know you'll be there, loving me."

LaCroix smiled gently. "I'll always be here for you Nicholas. You know that."

Nick sat up, reaching out to LaCroix. "Forgive me."

"For what my words are worth, although my actions should have taken my right to say them, I forgive you."

"Then come back here." Nick waved his fingers, indicating that his father should return to the bed. They finally snuggled up together, Nick wrapping himself in his father's warmth and protection. "I would like to ask another favour." He whispered softly.

LaCroix grinned. "Ahha, ulterior motive." He squeezed his son in his arms. "Ask me everything you would."

Nick lifted himself slightly, to meet his sire's amused gaze. "I'm no master, Lucien. I'm not... ready for all that, I've only just found myself again. I don't want Schank to have any less chance of survival because of me, because of how I have lead my vampiric life up till now. And Constantine..." Nick shrugged, and felt LaCroix's understanding. "I need you to help me, to help Schanke. To teach him, as you taught me...."

LaCroix smiled gently. "Not quite as I taught you."

"A little more... tenderness would be required, Lucien."

"Very well."

"Then you'll help."

"I will. But Nicholas... you have to let me teach him as I see fit. Agreed?"

Nick frowned for a moment, and then nodded, settling back down to the safe embrace his father offered.

LaCroix again watched his son rest against him. Nicholas had wrapped himself over him, his blonde head pushed up under his father's chin. He sighed gently, stroking his long fingers in a peaceful rhythm through his son's hair. There was still so much in their newly-found accord that needed to be sorted out - some things that only time would heal, some that needed to be discussed. Their time in Washington had relaxed much of the tension that had remained between them, but LaCroix knew they had needed longer. Now, with the situation they had been thrown into, he also knew it would be some considerable time before they managed to get away again. He could only hope that Nicholas' reliance on him through what he now faced with Schanke would not endanger their relationship.

//sleep//

LaCroix smiled at his son's thought. Since the beginning he had been able to influence Nicholas' will somewhat. On a couple of occasions, Nicholas had been badly hurt, sent to the edge of his control, losing his tight rein on the beast within. LaCroix had of course been there with him, for him, suppressing his pain, fear, anger and hatred until he was ready to deal with them on an equal basis.

//sleep Lucien//

Now Nicholas was trying to make that particular intimacy a two way flow, although he knew he had no such mental control over his father, the gesture was there. LaCroix smiled to himself and pulled Nicholas closer, tighter, pulling the black silk sheets around them both. Nicholas may not have the mental power over LaCroix's will, but his physical presence soothed him beyond any peace he had previously known.

***

They woke together. Suddenly. Something was wrong. Instinctively, Nick knew that the sun was setting, but it was still warming the city. In the time it took for him to get his bearings, LaCroix was already out of bed.

"Schanke," he muttered with barely disguised irritation. Nick leapt up and grabbed a shirt and trousers from his open suitcase dropped onto the floor the previous night. Shirt-tails flapping over tight fitting jeans, Nick followed his more presentably dressed master down the stairs. His heart sank. The loft door was slightly open, their ward was gone. 

Nick gazed pleadingly up at the elder. "Can you track him?"

LaCroix closed his eyes for a moment. "Yes. He... isn't moving." Nick was at the door, pulling it open. "Nicholas! Let me go."

"No, not alone, you might need me...."

"The sun, mon cher."

"It isn't too strong." He tilted his head slightly; in a few minutes the sunset would be complete anyway. "I'll sizzle slightly is all."

LaCroix rolled his eyes but did not argue further.

They took to the air, LaCroix leading. Staying low, they avoided the last of the sun's evening rays, skimming the city. Nick could not believe that Schanke had gotten so far. After a few minutes, LaCroix slowed and stopped, hovering over a street. Nicholas recognized Schanke's residential area and swore softly under his breath. A moment of thought, and LaCroix traced their path back for a minute or so. Then he descended. They landed in an alley, several hundred yards from the end of the road where Schanke lived. There was a low groaning from one of the darkening ends of the pathway, and both vampires made a beeline for the place.

Slumped between the wall and the side of a dumpster, Don Schanke was trying to stand up and failing. The skin on his hands and face was burnt and blistered, his lips were pulled back, fangs painfully extended, the beast within him raging in weak starvation. Nick dropped to his knees and reached for his partner before LaCroix had a chance to stop him. He heard his father's warning, but by then it was too late. In a blur of desperate movement, Schanke had launched himself bodily at Nick, throwing him off balance. The agonized vampire had the edge of timing and surprise, landing heavily on the other, pushing him back against the hard ground and plunging his aching fangs into the exposed neck. Nick cried out in pain, panicked for a moment. He sensed rather than saw his father going to tear Schanke away from him and mentally called out to stop him. In the same moment, Nick wrapped one arm around the back of the vampire feeding from him, letting Schanke take what he needed to start the healing process. The other arm he reached out to LaCroix as the elder dropped to his knees at his son's side, head bowed, but taking Nicholas' hand in both of his.

For a time they remained like that, a strange threesome; the needy, the provider, and the overseer. LaCroix had wanted to avoid this, but why, he was not sure. Schanke was too young, too hungry to translate the thoughts and emotions that he would be otherwise reading in Nicholas' blood; that honey elixir that LaCroix treasured so deeply, held so sacred. He leaned forward, stroking Nick's hair back with a flat palm. He watched, waiting, and when he knew Nick was nearing his limit, he pulled Schanke off with ease.

Nick's eyes rolled back, his lids sliding shut, fingers going instinctively to the wounds on his neck that were not closing as they should. LaCroix pushed Schanke back, but he scrambled to his knees, eyes once more returned to their human colour, shock evident in his frozen expression. He opened his mouth to speak, but could not force the words through the constriction in his throat. Instead he watched silently as LaCroix shifted himself and pulled Nick against him, sitting him up and holding him close. And then he opened up his own wrist, slashing the flesh with sharp fangs, and held it to Nicholas' lips. But Nick did not respond, his head flopping back against LaCroix's shoulder, his eyes still closed, lips paling. LaCroix muttered some French obscenities under his breath, and opened his wrist further, cupping Nicholas' head in the other, large hand, and tipping it back. A few drops fell to Nick's lips, yet there was still no response.

"Mon fils...."

Worried now, Schanke edged closer, but LaCroix's sudden glance at him, the vampire fully aroused, stopped the young one in his tracks. Without another sound, LaCroix slid one hand up under Nick's shoulder, the other to his face, and kissed him violently, his fangs cutting open first his own lips, and then his son's. He forced Nick's mouth open with his tongue, ripping that muscle on the sharp points of his teeth before thrusting it, bleeding, into Nick's mouth. The kiss of life. Nicholas came to suddenly and fiercely, breaking the kiss and slicing into LaCroix's throat. But the moment his father's blood started to fountain into him, Nick's control returned, as the elder had known it would. He drank for only a second or two, taking only what he needed to get him home, and then gently he pulled out, licking the tender wound until it closed.

Sitting back, still wrapped up in his father's feeding embrace, Nick smiled gratefully.

"Thank you." No acceptance was needed, LaCroix would always be there to bring his child back and Nicholas knew it.

After a moment of warmth between them, Nick turned to his partner, still sitting nearby, still gaping at the two older vampires. He reached out a hand, patting Schanke's knee and smiling. "You okay, Partner?" 

"Nick.... I...." 

LaCroix's raised hand cut him off. "Could we do this at home, children?"

***

"I tried to kill you, Nick." 

Nick shook his head empathetically, rising from the couch and crossing to stand near his partner at the open window. "No, you just needed to feed. You can't kill me, even if you'd drained me I would have survived, even if LaCroix hadn't force-fed me." 

Schanke smiled cautiously. "Is *that* what he did?" Nick nodded, his own expression one of quiet amazement at just how far his new relationship with his father had come. "I thought he was going to ... to ravish you there and then!"

Nick bit back on any comment that he might have made. Being ravished in an alley by LaCroix... now there was a memory he dared not think back on right now. He wanted to reach out mentally to LaCroix but stopped himself. His father had gone for further supplies after their ravenous new arrival had drunk his way through three bottles the moment they had returned to the loft, and Nick had needed sustenance also. But his son knew that this time it meant more than popping over to the Raven and raiding the club's stocks; Nicholas was keeping his mental barriers solidly up at the moment, not wanting to know what sport his father was currently indulging in.

Schanke took another sip from the glass, moving into the loft, sitting down on the edge of the an armchair. From there, he gazed up at his partner, hoping that Nick would anticipate some of the questions in his head. Nick gazed back with understanding.

"Just ask, anything." 

Schanke nodded. He drew in a deep breath, unsure whether he really needed to be breathing at all. "Okay. First, what burned me this evening?"

"The sun. Our kind cannot stand in the sunlight, that isn't a myth."

Schanke swallowed hard. "What else isn't myth?"

"Holy water will burn if it touches you. The power of a blessed cross will also burn you if you touch it, and will push you back if advanced on you. I've managed to gain some ... strength over the cross, but it does take time." Schanke nodded. "Garlic is bad, although no vampire I know of has ever worked out why. It stings." 

Schanke's eyes widened. "That's why that... that woman, the hunter, injected it into those bullets!" Nick winced at the memory, and nodded. That really had hurt... 

"A stake through the heart will end it all unless it's removed immediately and the removal is accompanied by feeding. A severed limb won't grow back. But wounds will heal almost instantly. You will learn how to fly, to move faster than any mortal ever can. How to hypnotize people, to move to them to certain actions, to tell you what they don't really want to reveal, or to make them forget they ever met you." Schanke was still staring at him. "There are pros and cons, Schank."

Schanke nodded, calmly taking in what his partner was telling him. There was more though, something more important than anything Nick had yet touched on. "What about Myra, Nick?" 

Nicholas forced himself to hold his friend's gaze as he shook his head. "Relationships with mortals are... difficult, even at my age. I had to be very careful with Nat, before.... I'm sorry, Schank." 

Schanke was shaking his head. "You know, Nick, if I hadn't attacked you, if I hadn't felt my skin boiling when I stepped into the sun this evening, if I hadn't drunk enough blood over the past 24 hours to keep the hospital going for a week... I wouldn't believe a word of this."

"I know."

"And now... now you're telling me I can't go home, I can't... ever be with my family again."

Nick's heart, so recently filled and warmed by the all-consuming love poured into him by his father, ached for Schanke. He crossed to sit on the arm of the couch, almost touching his partner. "Nothing I say will make this any easier for you. I can't... undo what Constantine has done, believe me, I should know. I'm sorry...." Nick knew just how woefully inadequate his words were, but there was precious little else he could say or do. 

Schanke's eyes dropped. His mind knew how he ought to be feeling; he loved Myra, 'till death do us part', and his young daughter Jenny, 'a father provides love, discipline, guidance, protection and support'. His heart felt as if it were trying to break, but... there was something stopping him from falling apart completely; a strength, a glowing power within him. "This... this is going to take some getting used to. I mean... where am I going to go?" 

Nick bridged the gap between them, reaching out to touch Schanke's shoulder gently. "I've been thinking about that. You're more than welcome to stay here; we'll pick up some clothes and stuff from your place for the time being. But I was considering maybe getting away from here for a while."

"You have somewhere in mind?"

Nick nodded. "I have a cottage in a small town north of here. This time of year it should be wonderful."

"Even in the dark," Schanke muttered wistfully.

"Even in the dark."

Schanke nodded, still dazed from what he knew was the truth, a truth almost too difficult to accept. "Thanks, Nick. Thank you. If it weren't for you...." 

"If it weren't for me, you wouldn't be in this mess," he stated honestly.

But Schanke was shaking his head. "Constantine... he would still have been there, still have... attacked me."

Nick shook his head sadly. "Constantine was only brought over a year ago." He stopped, hesitating. "Because of me."

Schanke's eyes widened, and he latched onto Nick's quiet statement, glad for something else to take his attention from his current situation.

"What do you mean, 'because of you'?"

Nick leaned back against the edge of the couch. "You remember the trouble with David Constantine, a year last Father's day?" Schanke nodded. "I was protecting him. Don Constantine went to see LaCroix, cashing in on an old debt between the two of them. LaCroix came to me and I asked him to let David go. Constantine only wanted to ensure there was someone to run the business, so in order to give me my wish that David should be free, LaCroix brought the old man over." Nick smiled slightly. "His logic was always a little perverse."

Schanke was almost grinning. "I'll say. He... he did that for you?"

"LaCroix has always been a touch... obsessive."

Schanke's brows furrowed. "What is it with you two? All the time I've known you, you've listened to his broadcasts, you've kept that photo in your desk, but you've never talked about him. And now... he's here, he's around you, like... like he lives here."

Nick linked his fingers around the base of the glass in his hands. "We... for a long time we have had our differences, we've spent much of our long history fighting, hurting one another in more and more vicious and violent ways. Three years ago, I even tried to kill him. I thought I had done."

Schanke's mouth dropped open. "But you... he's.... I don't get it. Why would you try to kill him?"

"When vampires fight, it's not pleasant. LaCroix... killed people just to annoy me, to upset me. He set me up for higher and higher falls, each one more ugly than the last. And I took it all until one day he pushed too far and I staked him." Nick shook his head, surprised by the raw pain he still felt. "When he came back he set me up to take the fall for a couple of murders in the area. I was so relieved that he was alive, but I was furious with him.... After that, things began to settle between us, almost as if we'd reached an impasse. Slowly, things just got better, I found myself going to him, asking him for help, then just talking to him. I eventually realized that I ... enjoyed his company."

Schanke looked shocked. "But after everything he'd done to you...?"

"He wasn't the sole blame. I... hurt him, in subtler ways admittedly, but I did turn against him, against my family, against everything he had given to me and taught me. LaCroix sees eternity as a gift, something to be treasured. When I started seeking a way back, he took it as a personal affront. I thought at first it was because I was his son and he wanted to keep the family together, but he has other children, other vampires he has brought across and I am the only one he has pursued with such... ardour. The more I realized that it was just me he was so passionate about, the faster and further I ran from him, infuriating him all the more. I guess, in the end, we both stopped running."

"Is it like a father/son relationship? He brought you across... is that how you think of him?" He paused, frowning. "Will Constantine and I... have that relationship?"

Nick took a sip from the glass. "Only time will tell," he murmured eventually. "Constantine has always been fanatical about family. I'm sure if you want that...." He let his own experiences flood his tone.

"You don't suggest it?"

"Schank, at the moment, everything's up in the air, everything's new. There're so many changes you're going to have to make, and I don't want you to come to any sudden decisions that you'll regret later. For now, let LaCroix teach you what you need to know, you can trust him if only because he won't antagonize me. I'll be here for you, I'll answer all your questions." He sighed. "As for LaCroix and I, our relationship is extremely... complex."

A whoosh of air caught their attention, the elder landing with the grace of a falcon on the upper balcony. In his arms he carried a crate of wine bottles. "There are more waiting for us, Nicholas." He stated simply. 

"Thank you."

Setting the crate down on the wooden boards, he leaned over the railing, gazing down at the two below, drinking in the wondrous sight of his own beloved child, and suddenly seeing a silver lining to this disaster. Nick looked relaxed, completely himself; the dark, sensuous creature he had always been, along with the innate paternal instincts that kept him so close to mortals. How much more there was for Nicholas to learn, how much he would teach him, given the chance. He had not pushed since their recent reunion, yet he ached to do so. In time the blood bond would grow stronger between them, and Nicholas would start to read possibilities in the blood exchanges that they shared; maybe then LaCroix could start to push. The time would come, he knew, he could be a patient man when he knew the rewards were worth waiting for.

They would need a lot of time alone with no distractions or interruptions. The trust between them would have to be based on more than the mutual desire that was between them now, more than the undying love that had flared up around them. It would have to run so deep that Nicholas would be willing to give up his entire self to his master, and allow LaCroix to show him. These were things LaCroix had been taught by elders long before Nicholas had been born to him. He had learnt, sometimes by force, sometimes in desire, but never in love. Before Nicholas, before *now*, he had never felt enough passion and burning fire for anyone to incline him to want to share his knowledge. But what was happening between he and his favourite son was starting to stoke memories long buried. It was his deepest fantasy, his fondest wish, to have Nicholas follow him to that plane, to that existence.

LaCroix shook himself from his musings. That was all far, far in the future. He refocused on the pair now watching him, and the intensity in Nicholas' deeply personal gaze upon him made him wonder if that future was so far away. For a moment they were trapped together, held aside from the burden of the mortal life Nick chose for himself, and thus pulled his father into. LaCroix raised his fingertips to his lips and kissed them. Their link was thrumming, a base resonant note, but no one emotion or thought could be distinguished. In the moment that Nick broke the connection, he sent a single thought slicing into his sire's mind.

//I already know//

***

Chapter Two - The Cottage

LaCroix stood on the front step, his arms crossed, his face a sculpture of amusement as he watched Nicholas close the garage, protecting the precious Cadillac against the adverse weather conditions. The snowflakes were settling in his son's beautiful blond hair, reminding him of an angel in Christmas pictures. Still he could not resist teasing.

"So, Nicholas, remind me why we're out here?" 

Nick narrowed his eyes at his father. He opened his mouth to speak, but his words changed as a stray thought struck him from LaCroix. He rose his hand in immediate defence. "Don't even think it." 

"Too late." Nick did not see anything until the snowball hit him. In shock, he wiped the melting sludge from his face. 

"That was cheating!"

"Moi? Cheat? Nicholas, how could you make such an accusation?!" A second blur of vampire and another hit, this time against Nick's chest. Immediately he retaliated, hurling a shaped handful of snow on a perfect trajectory to pound his father's head. LaCroix started to laugh, a sound of genuine happiness and joy as he flew at his son, colliding with him just as another snowball left his hands only to be crushed between them as they fell back, Nicholas landing in the snow, LaCroix over him. Before Nick could pull his arms up to push LaCroix off him, the elder reached out and scooped up a handful of snow. Giggling, Nick tried desperately to stave off his master's foul plan, but he was not strong enough to move out from under LaCroix's weight, pinning him into the white around them.

Holding his son with an arm across his chest, LaCroix pulled Nick's woollen jumper up, and stuffed the handful of snow up inside. In between chokes of laughter, Nick yelled his shock as the freezing snow touched his skin. "LaCroix, you total bast...." 

The elder wiggled a finger at the vampire beneath him. "Ah, ah, what kind of language is that to use to your father, umm?" LaCroix's fingers worked their way to the base of Nick's jumper, and started to pull it up, to expose more skin to the snow surrounding them. Screaming and laughing, Nick struggled more, yet LaCroix easily held him in place, loving the feel of his child squirming beneath him. Satisfied that this particular lesson had been learnt, LaCroix pulled himself up, leaning over his son, gazing at him as Nicholas stopped fighting and lay there, looking back at him, wonderful blue eyes sparkling. "Oh little one...." Parting his lips, LaCroix leaned in to steal a kiss from his beloved.

Schanke flung the door open, and seeing the elder vampire leaning over Nick, seeing his partner stop struggling as the other leaned in...

"Get off of him!" Schanke was standing above them in a moment, looking down in anger. Nick tilted his head back, pushing his soaking hair further into the snow so that he could look at Schanke's furiously protective expression. LaCroix was looking up also, and Nick glanced at his master, hoping to quell some of the anger he expected to see there. But he saw only surprise.

"Schank, it's okay!" Nick's face broke into a smile as he realised the other man must have heard his screams and imagined that LaCroix was hurting him.

"Nick, are you okay? He was... he was going to bite you...."

Nick chuckled, shaking his head and sliding his hand up LaCroix's arm, where it still held the vampire over his son. "No, Schank. He was going to kiss me."

Schanke stared down at the two of them, his mouth working but no sounds coming out. "Wh..." 

Nick pushed LaCroix back with some ease, accepting his sire's hand to haul him to his feet. "Looks like you're up, Nicholas." The elder spoke with a twinkle in his eye. "It'll be dawn soon. I will check the shutters are adequate throughout the house."

Inside, Schanke had managed to start a roaring fire in the grate, and Nick poured three glasses from the more than adequate supplies LaCroix had collected from the Raven the previous evening. They settled in the lounge, on the white leather couch Nicholas had bought two decades ago, one summer he had spent here in total isolation, decorating in his own individual tastes. It was between gothic and Hammer Horror. Both bedrooms had wrought iron beds, with ornate headers and footers. Each room had a collection of tall, black candle holders containing thick cream-coloured long-burning candles. The colours were mostly crimson and black, with white or cream furniture.

There was a library filled with books he had collected over the ages, books he did not carry with him as he moved about the world. A dining room with a long, antique table that had its own fascinating history. Only the kitchen was different, done in an English Farmhouse style, in deep green and cream decor with dark pine units and a large oak table. Nick had owned this place for over a hundred years. It was his own sanctuary. LaCroix had known of its existence but had never once followed him there. Only now did Nicholas feel like sharing it with anyone else.

"Nick? Are you sure you're okay?" There was still concern in Schanke's voice and that touched Nick deeply. 

"We were having a snowball fight, Schank. That's all. LaCroix would never bite me, not like that." 

"I thought... after I attacked you...." 

Nick touched his friend's arm reassuringly. "Control of the hunger comes quickly, believe me. You'd been injured, you needed to feed and I was there."

Schanke nodded. "So... out there...."

"I did say that my relationship with LaCroix was complicated."

Schanke's eyes widened. "You and he....? But he's... he's your father!"

"In vampiric terms, yes. But that's not the same as in mortal terms. You will quickly find that vampires are innately ... sexually orientated beings. The vampire hunger needs blood, but the spirit craves physical contact." Nick realized that only directness would explain things satisfactorily. "When a vampire has sex with a mortal, it almost always ends with the vampire drinking from the mortal, and killing them. That's what we are. But it's not what we have to be. When two vampires have sex, it also ends in each drinking from the other, but that does not harm the vampire, it serves to accentuate the whole experience. The biting and drinking can themselves be sexual acts that stimulate orgasm after orgasm no matter what sex you are. Because of this, gender isn't so important. It's the blood exchange at the end that makes vampire sex the intense experience that it is, and at that point you don't notice nor care whether its a male or female that you're with." 

Nicholas took a long drink from his glass, glancing at Schanke to gauge his reaction so far. He was staring at his partner, but there was a flicker of understanding in those soft features. The blond vampire pulled his legs up, wrapping one arm around his knees, awaiting the question that he knew was coming. "So..." Schanke hesitated, not wanting to offend. "You're saying that every vampire is... bisexual, not matter what they might have been in life?" 

Nick thought for a moment. "Maybe. The terms 'gay', 'bisexual', they don't hold much meaning for our kind, they're not used. Personally, when I did used to feed off mortals it didn't matter what sex they were; the experience was just as intense and powerful with either sex. I did, however, always bed women rather than men; just my preference." 

"But LaCroix...." 

"... is different. LaCroix is... my maker, my creator. When I think of him, I think of more than just a man. He's my father, he's my protection and refuge. The way he can make me feel...." Nick's thoughts strayed to Lucien's incredible and unparalleled ability to play his body and nerves like a finely tuned instrument; his unrivalled knowledge of his son's body, of where he liked to be touched, of how to arouse him, how to push him into a long, exquisite orgasm or a violent burst of intense pleasure. None had ever known him as Lucien knew him, none had ever made him feel as he did when he was with his father. "In the days when I was brought over, the master / fledging relationship was very strict, especially where LaCroix was concerned. Our first centuries together were very intimate. The three of us shared a home, hunted together, shared each other. When Janette left, LaCroix and I stayed together, finding new companionship, yet also finding something between us that we had not seen before. For a very long time there was just the two of us. When I started to pull away from my vampirism, I found that I also had to pull away from him. We started to fight, as I told you. It's only very, very recently that we have realized how much we both lost when we lost each other." 

Schanke was shaking his head. "I always thought you and Nat...." 

"So did she. But as I said, relationships between our kind and mortals are very difficult and very dangerous. There was a lot about me, a lot of me that Nat refused to acknowledge. She wanted a lot from me, with no compromises, and once she got my devotion to her work on a cure for me, she pretended that the promise alone was enough to hold me. I knew that it wasn't, deep down. When things got very bad, I turned to Janette, and when they became impossible, I turned to LaCroix. I couldn't live how she wanted me to live any longer." 

"In all the time I've known you, Nick... I would never have thought..." He gestured uselessly with his hand, sipping from his glass, and then downing the whole drink in one. 

"Well, we're still finding our way together, but we fit together so perfectly." An almost sweet smile lit up Nick's face. "I guess I'm learning to love him again, as I once did. I don't think that's ever really changed, just been buried under the hate and the injustice." 

Schanke nodded vaguely, staring into the empty glass. "This is all very new, Nick." 

"You're worried about Myra." 

"She knew something was wrong, Nick. I could see it in her eyes." 

"You've had to come away in the course of an investigation, she understood." 

"So what do I tell her when I get back?" 

Again, Nick reached out and touched his partner's leg. "I'm sorry, Schank."

A gentle touch to Nick's cheek and refills were being offered. LaCroix poured silently, reading the link with his son. When he had first realized what Constantine had done, when they had been in California, LaCroix had been terrified that this would come between he and his Nicholas one more, irrevocable time. But it seemed to him now that what had actually happened was that they were coming together, becoming closer with each minute that passed. Nicholas' confidence was growing, and LaCroix's pride in him, always strong for his spirit and grace, was swelling.

"I am going to enjoy the comfort of your luxurious bathtub, Nicholas, and then I shall retire for the day." He placed the bottle on the table behind the large sofa.

Nick took the hand from his cheek, and reverently kissed the palm. "I'll join you in a while."

Schanke frowned as he watched the elder leave the room. "It's weird seeing you like this... with ... with him."

Nick smiled. "Why?"

"I always pegged you as a ladies man. I mean, you and Janette were together a long time, weren't you?"

"A very long time. But... although we've become close again lately, I need... more now. There's more to our kind than drinking blood and staying out of sunlight. I need LaCroix, maybe more than I ever needed him in the past. And his presence is comfortable, comforting. He's surprisingly easy to love now I've stopped fighting him." Nick smiled, and looked up. Schanke's expression was muddled. "I'm sorry, you don't need me prattling on about this."

But Schanke shook his head, "No... it's okay." He smiled a little. "I don't want to think too much at the moment, and sitting here, having you finally talk to me is quite refreshing." He chuckled. "I'm at last getting to know my partner. And I do understand why you've been so difficult to get to know in the past. I mean, you're a brilliant detective... most of our collars were thanks to you, and I could never understand how you did it, how you got to the scene so damned fast. Everything makes sense now."

"I'm glad something good is coming out of this." Nick took another sip of the elixir in the glass he held and frowned, reaching around to read the label of the bottle from which LaCroix had poured. It was not the pure blood that they had been drinking originally, but a red wine mix, one that was quite strong. LaCroix had a skill of being able to mix the liquids quite perfectly to make the resulting drink intoxicating to their kind, to a point.

Schanke also drank, watching Nick, imagining that he was seeing his partner for the first time. Sitting in the warm peace of the cottage with the crackling of the logs in the fire grate, the deep hugging sofa, the nearness and restfulness of the presence of his partner, he felt at ease with himself and the world. Thoughts of Myra and Jenny seemed a thousand miles away, in a different world to this one. It seemed that tomorrow he would wake and this would have been nothing but a dream - a strange dream, but not exactly a nightmare.

The heat of the bloodwine surged through Schanke as he took another mouthful. Outside the windows, dawn's light started to befall the earth, and automatically the shutters slid down, securing the house from the fatal sunbeams. Schanke watched as the light was shut out, and the fire became the room's only illumination. "Do you miss the sun, Nick?" 

Nicholas nodded without a thought. "Very often. Although the night is just as beautiful and I think we see a part of life that no one else does. As I said earlier, there are pros and cons." He watched Schanke finish his glass, and took the bottle, refilling for him.

"If you never grow old, why don't people notice?"

"We move on, change our lives often. Sometimes we go somewhere and do not involve ourselves at all with mortals. We have people who sort out new lives for us, new identities."

Schanke shifted, bringing his legs up and stretching out on the sofa, crossing his feet by Nick's hip. "So do you and Janette and LaCroix all ... travel together?"

"We used to. But not anymore. Janette was the first to arrive in Toronto, in 1975, and then I headed up there after leaving Chicago in 1989. LaCroix, being LaCroix, followed me. Janette was already running the Raven, something to keep her occupied for a few years. I don't know what possessed him to take up the CERK Nightwatch show, although he always uses it to talk to me."

Schanke gave that a moment's consideration. "You know, I bet those speeches of his make a lot more sense knowing that." 

"I dare say. Why he thinks the people of Toronto deserve to listen to him lecturing his son I have no idea. But, I have to admit that I listened to him a lot more, and took in what he said when he spoke to me in his broadcasts rather than face to face. Maybe at some point I convinced myself that he didn't know that I was listening." Nick dropped his head against the back of the couch, stretching out as Schanke had done, pushing his bare feet between his partner and the cushions so that they faced one another. 

Schanke squirmed, allowing Nick to get comfortable as the blond vampire's cold feet burrowed in next to him. He grinned. "You know, we have never been this comfortable in one anothers company. It's nice." 

"Well you have to understand now why I always kept myself to myself. That time when you left Myra and decided to camp out at my place, you scared me half to death!" Nick giggled lightly at the memory, the bloodwine making his head feel floaty.

"Yeah, I did notice you getting a little jumpy...."

"Jumpy?"

"Okay, closer to panic stricken." Schanke's quiet laughter joined with that of his partner.

From the depths of the huge sunken bath that made up a large part of the expensive bathroom suite Nick had had installed only six months ago, LaCroix, immersed in bubbles, listened with joy to the gentle mirth of his son. Strangely, he felt like a father of fledglings again, relaxing while the young ones talked conspiratorially in another room. This place that Nicholas had chosen as his private sanctuary was truly beautiful; perfectly secluded along a little-used track into the forest, exquisitely decorated, comfortable and in the perfect setting for a good hunt, not that Nicholas would ever partake in such a sport, but maybe he would indulge his father one night, after all, he had not mentioned the indiscretion of the previous evening.

He remembered back to when Nicholas had purchased this place. He had tracked his errant son to New Orleans, in 1891, having lost track of him when he left Paris in one of many desperate attempts to rid himself of his master's attentions. On reaching New Orleans he had found Janette, who had been visiting her brother, but not Nicholas himself. Believing that he had been thwarted, and had just missed his son, LaCroix had gone to see Aristotle, who refused to divulge any travel plans of any of his clients, especially one Nicholas de Brabant ('on pain of whatever').

//
"I have to know."

"I can't tell you." Aristotle stood, leaning on the desk that separated him from the golden-eyed elder looming over him. "Look, LaCroix, I know about your troubles with Nicholas but I have a reputation to keep. He trusts me, maybe above all others. I have seen him in distraught states, begging me to get him away because of you." He jabbed a finger at the distinctly murderous-looking vampire. "You don't scare me. I am above your family ways. The ancient who brought me over is long dead and I am in charge of my own eternity. If you killed me a great many of our kind would lose an invaluable service and you know it. You need me as much as he does."

"I've never been in need of your services." LaCroix spat the words into the insolent face that stared defiantly back at him.

"Only because you seem to float around the globe after Nicholas, because you never seem to set up a background for your lives. You just arrive in a town, settle yourself into a community and people accept that. I don't know how you do it, but most others can't."

LaCroix glared at Aristotle, but knew he would not get the information he required. He stepped away. "At least tell me if he has come to you in the last six months." Aristotle simply smiled. "You won't give me any pointers?"

"No."

LaCroix muttered something under his breath, and headed for the stone steps. "Even if I threaten to cut open your throat and make you watch while your life blood drains from you?"

Aristotle chuckled. "It's no wonder Nicholas is always running scared from you."

"Umm." Unhappy, LaCroix stomped back up into the great hall, and started for the door. As he walked, he heard footsteps behind him and turned. A young female was coming from a back room, carrying a small heap of papers clutched to her breast. LaCroix smiled.

"Excuse me, my dear. Would you be Aristotle's assistant?"

The young one looked up at him, wide-eyed. She could only have been a hundred years, maybe a little less. And she recognized an elder when she saw one. Bowing her head, she confirmed that she was.

LaCroix lifted her chin with his fingers, gently tilting her head to face him. "He said that you could help me with the current location of one Nicholas de Brabant."

She blinked nervously. "He... he only allows me to deal with property, Sire." LaCroix smiled inwardly at the mark of respect, something he very rarely received from his own children. "But... I do have details on a cottage I was asked to reserve for a Nicholas de Brabant." She clumsily sorted through the papers that she held, and finally handed him a three page document. "I believe the sale went through two nights ago."

"Thank you, you've been a great help." He bestowed a brilliant smile on her innocent features, and entertained thoughts of bestowing more on her. But he had other concerns at the moment, time for a little fun once he had located Nicholas and taught his son a hearty lesson in obedience.

LaCroix sat in the fire-lit darkness of Janette's hotel room, gazing at the document he had taken from Aristotle's charming young assistant; it described what sounded like a beautiful cottage in the small Canadian town of Rouyn. Part of him was still irritated that someone like Aristotle could command such respect and loyalty from his fledglings when an experienced elder such as himself could not get his own children to so much as settle in his company. But at that young age even Nicholas had been happy to hunt with him. Grudgingly, he was proud of them both, and of his choices in fledglings.

Janette handed her father a glass and sat down in the opposite chair. "So... why are you not heading for this place instead of moping about here?"

LaCroix shook his head. "This is not somewhere he could start a new life. This is... this is somewhere he has purchased as a place to get away from life when he needs to." Janette was moved by her master's almost understanding tone. "I will leave this place for him." He dropped the paper to the floor. "I won't follow him to somewhere he has chosen as sanctuary. I will at least pay him that courtesy." 

Janette stood, crossing to sit on the arm of her father's chair. "Thank you." She reached down and took his hand in hers. "He needs this."

"Maybe he does, ma cherie. Maybe he does."
//

To this day, Nicholas had no idea that his father had found out about his cottage, and LaCroix had no intention of ever letting him know. Nor had he ever any intention of coming here. He had always believed that Nicholas would return to him one day, one day before forever. This lifetime in Toronto had brought them closer than they had been in a very long time, but at no point had he thought that it would be the incarnation that saw them reconciled. After all, it had started with Nicholas trying to kill him. Fate, LaCroix mused, always played out in mysterious movements.

He closed his eyes and allowed himself to sink below the bubbles. At some time, Nick had bought in Sandalwood bath oils, an aroma that LaCroix had always said was the scent of Nicholas' arousal. Now, LaCroix wanted to drown in that scent. He felt the popping suds tingle in his nose and play in his hair. Rising until his mouth was just above the water level, he blew into the sea of bubbles before him, splattering white foam everywhere. Part of him wished that Nick had rubber ducks.

Schanke set his head against the back of couch, chuckling faintly. Nick was frowning, rolling his eyes as he drank. "And the thing was, every time I turned around he was there. I stopped being surprised, started to anticipate his words to me. It was irritating... but that was all. I thought he would eventually get bored and find someone else to torment."

"But he never did."

"No. And now I'm glad he was so determined."

Schanke nodded slightly. "I never pegged you as the overly romantic type. Mind you, I always pegged," he wiggled one set of fingers in the air in vague quotation quotes, "the 'Nightcrawler' as a total whacko. But the two of you do seem... at peace with one another."

Nick smiled that open smile Schanke had only, before tonight, seen once or twice in the past. Now he watched as it came to his partner's lips so naturally and easily, as if he had been working with another Nick Knight and this was his twin. It was an indescribable feeling to finally be getting to know his partner, to be relaxed and open with each other. He inwardly pressed down on the turmoil of emotions that now and again threatened to surface and overwhelm him. On the journey here he had started to allow himself to think about the situation he was now in; not thinking in depth, but scratching the surface to see what his reactions were and would be in the future. One day soon he would miss going out in the sun, it was not like he saw much of it at present anyway, so there was no radical change in that part of his lifestyle. He liked he idea of getting to know Nick better, of finally breaking through the walls his partner erected around himself and having open, honest conversations that other partners had. It had always been something he had felt was missing from his professional life. But had he been asked, he would have said that the price to be paid - of losing Myra and Jenny - was far too high. Now that price had already been paid, the choice had been made for him and somehow he had to live with it. Usually a fairly optimistic guy, Schanke dared not think any deeper about what was happening quite yet.

"Are you okay?" Nick's gentle question snaked into Schanke's thoughts and derailed them.

"Yeah, I was just thinking."

"Anything I can help with?"

Schanke shrugged. "I dunno, they're things I could probably wait a few days before worrying about."

"Myra?"

"Mostly. And where the hell I live now."

"Well, in a couple of weeks we can have a place sorted out for you. Until then, you have the choice. You can stay with me, or the Raven has rooms. There are one or two 'families' who accept new vampires and give them lodgings until they find their feet, although I'm not so sure LaCroix would really back that idea. You're part of his family, in a way. He's very into this family thing."

Schanke nodded, accepting for now. There would be many decisions to make over the next few days, but they could at least wait until the evening. "So... are we at a stage where you can tell me who Serena was?"

Nick grinned, reaching over and slapping his partner on the arm. "All this time and you still think about her?!"

"Nick, she was... intoxicating!"

A light sparkled for a moment in warm blue eyes. "She was. Serena was - is - my daughter."

Schanke's eye bulged. "Your daughter?! But... you said that a certain... respect exists between vampires and their... creators. She didn't exactly.... Well, I remember the scene in the squad room vividly."

Nick was still grinning. "Why?"

"Because it was so... unlike you. It was like a glimpse into a part of your life that I knew absolutely nothing about."

"I guess. To answer you, yes, there is supposed to be a certain amount of respect, although the way that respect is shown has changed significantly over the ages. No vampire who becomes a new master these days would train their fledglings in quite the manner in which LaCroix trained me. Serena was... independent. Nothing more."

Schanke nodded and yawned. "So even vampires get knackered, ay Nick? I, my friend, am going to bed." He drained his glass and set it on the table behind the couch. As he leaned over the other vampire, he smiled genuinely. "Thanks, for everything you're doing."

"It's no problem at all, Schank. If you need anything...."

"I won't go wandering until the sun sets, I promise. And I won't cook breakfast either."

Nicholas watched Schanke go and sighed gently. Then he smiled.

LaCroix peered over the edge of the deep bath and looked around. Behind him, on a ledge with some soap and massage oil, there was a sad-looking bat, made of a flannel material, and obviously intended as some sort of washing aide. LaCroix's eyes lit up with amusement and joy and he reached back to snag it between his fingers. Holding the thing in both hands, he examined it. It was all black, slightly faded, apart from two white balls of flannel glued on as eyes, with small black felt dots for the pupils. Giggling childishly, LaCroix transferred the bat to one hand and flapped its wings up and down, moving it in front of his face. A few seconds of playing, and he dropped it into the bubbles, feeling it sink through the water onto his stomach.

With abject enjoyment, he reached into the water and fished out the now-soggy bat. Its wings sagged under the weight of the water that ran steadily from the pointy ends.

"What are you doing?" At the sudden intrusion of the amused voice, LaCroix dropped the bat back into the water, splashing himself with bubbles as it landed high on his chest. Obviously Nicholas had finally discovered the trick of masking his presence for a short while. He regained his composure as Nick came further into the bathroom, glass in one hand, bottle in the other.

"I am bathing, Nicholas. This is a remarkably comfortable bath tub."

Nick settled himself on the raised platform into which the bath was sunken. He sipped at the drink, looking at his sire over the fine crystal goblet. "And the bat...?"

"Is bathing with me. From the looks of it, it had been some time and the creature needed a wash."

Nick chuckled softly. "You continue to surprise me." He put down the glass and reached in to take a handful of bubbles. "Bubble bath as well?"
"Sandalwood foam and bath oils..." LaCroix finally met his son's dancing gaze, and his own eyes lit up mischievously. "How could I resist?"

Nicholas sat for a while, and LaCroix fished the bat out from the water, let it drip for a moment and threw it the very short distance into his son's face, laughing with delight at the surprise that crossed Nicholas' features. Nick placed it back on the ledge with the patience of a new parent. "What's come over you tonight?"

"Nothing, yet. Why, are you offering?"

Nick shook his head, in disbelief rather than refusal. "You're very... playful."

"So?"

"You're never playful." He knelt by the tub, and dipped one hand into the water, running it down his sire's leg to his foot.

"Maybe I like to surprise you. Or maybe I've always been like this, just not with you." Nick's hand stilled as the words cut him surprisingly deep. He continued to gaze down into the water. "I'm sorry, Nicholas. That..." LaCroix reached up and stroked a foamy hand over his son's soft hair. "that came out wrongly. I did not mean it to hurt you."

Nicholas looked up, his gaze suspicious for a moment. Then affection cleared his eyes and he smiled, accepting the apology and resuming his fingers' journey down LaCroix's right leg. As he reached the foot, he continued down, stroking nothing but the base of the tub as he neared the end. Finally his fingers clasped the chain of the plug and yanked. Water began to drain from the bath, to LaCroix's strenuous protests, but only for few measured seconds and then the plug was set back into place.

Frowning, LaCroix watched Nicholas stand and start to undress, pulling the jumper up over his head with feline grace, his muscles rippling gently just under the silken skin. Playful thoughts slipped LaCroix's mind as the erotic striptease was performed just out of his reach. Nick worked the belt of his jeans then pushed the metal studs through one by one, down the column of four, until he could slide the garment over his thighs and down his legs. He waited for LaCroix's gaze to stop caressing him before he slipped his thumbs into the waistband of his silk boxers and pushed them over his hips, letting them fall to the floor before stepping away from his clothes and towards the bathtub.

Leaning forward, LaCroix placed an almost chaste kiss on the tip of the hardening erection presented to him. Then Nick stepped into the tub, and sat in the water, straddling his vampire master. He looked down into LaCroix's face, who studiously kept his expression schooled as he filled his hands with bubbles and blew them straight into Nick's face.

"You...." Not believing LaCroix's mood, Nick flopped himself down on the body beneath him and captured his father's mouth, thrusting his tongue inside and dispensing every playful thought from LaCroix's mind, replacing them with thoughts of other types of play.

The elder folded his arms over Nick's back, crushing him to himself, plundering his son's wide-open mouth as his own was plundered. As the kiss lengthened it deepened, was drawn out into tenderness that could never have existed between them before. Nick's desires changed with the kiss, they too deepened. When LaCroix finally released his mouth, Nicholas reverently kissed his father's lips, nipping and biting his way around. "Lucien, I need...."

LaCroix nipped back, bringing one hand up to push a lock of hair away from Nicholas' face, plastering it to the side of his head with the water. All he could see and hear and smell was his Nicholas. "Anything, mon coeur, anything."

Nicholas pushed himself down, slipping over LaCroix's body in the water, until he felt his sire's erect cock nudging at his ass. "Sit up." He lifted his own body to allow LaCroix to shift back a bit. Without warning, Nick reached back and impaled himself, painfully but with infinite gentleness, on LaCroix's cock. LaCroix's yell of surprise joined with Nick's cry of self-induced pain as the elder clamped his hands around his son's hips, holding him in place for a moment to allow them both to adjust. Piercing eyes were dusted with gold as they met the incandescent gaze above.
"Nicholas...." It was a breath, a proud possession, an erotic caress. Leaning forward, Nick kissed LaCroix's lips, over his jaw to his throat, licking the sensitive skin at his neck.

"I need you," Nicholas whispered roughly. "I've always needed you. I need to take and be taken by you. Mon amant." He ran his hand over LaCroix's shoulder, around the back of his neck, pushing his fingers into the closely cropped hair. He began to move slowly, rising halfway before falling back, filling himself with his father.

The position, the sheer surface on the base of the tub, the lack of anything to give him any leverage, all made it very difficult to meet Nicholas' movements. He dropped one hand to the small of his son's back, pressing him down further, forcing him to take his sire deeper. LaCroix's other hand raked up Nick's back, coming to rest with his fingers combed into his thick gold curls. He murmured his child's name, whispering for him to do what he wanted, knowing exactly what that was, reading it in his thoughts. He could feel Nicholas' fangs scraping lightly across his throat, not breaking the skin yet, waiting for permission, needing that permission. "Do it, mon fils, complete the circle."

For a few moments more, LaCroix felt only the grazing of his son's teeth and the gentle heat of his breath. This was the most tenderness they had ever shown to one another during love-making. Usually they were anywhere from passionate to simply violent, sometimes aware of their surroundings, sometimes aware of nothing but one another. As Nicholas' fangs pierced his skin, just short of his artery, LaCroix became aware of everything; the water lapping around them, the heat of his son, above him, against him and encasing him, the coolness of the air around them, most of all his son drinking from him, his blood spilling into his mouth of his most precious creation.

Closing his eyes, Nicholas sank into the sensations. LaCroix's fangs slipped into his flesh as he increased the tempo of his movements, savouring the burning fire within him, releasing everything into his blood, into his thoughts as he connected deeply with his father. //More// LaCroix bowed to his son's desire, pulling out with a low growl and slashing deeper into the throat offered to him. Nick released LaCroix, howling as the sudden pain coursed through him, chased through his body by perfect pleasure. Again he attacked his father's throat, wanting to drown in LaCroix. The emotions surging through him were deep enough to drown in. What he was feeling went beyond desire and passion, beyond love even. A tear fell from his eye to LaCroix's shoulder. In an attempt to flee from the intensity of their blood exchange, Nick drove himself fiercely onto LaCroix's cock, hurting himself and surprising his father.

LaCroix's eyes flicked open as Nicholas pushed himself further, pulling back and re-angling himself, driving back down. The elder felt his orgasm sweeping over him, bit more deeply into his son's neck. Suddenly, unexpectedly, Nicholas was spasaming, coming in long spurts into the water, his orgasm rushing through his blood, making the elixir richer, firing LaCroix's own small death. Their joint climaxes unfurled in their shared blood, each tasting the other's, sending shivers through them both as they clung to each other, buried in one another.

The universe ceased to exist. All Nicholas knew was his father's blood flowing in his veins, the intensity of the ancient love that he was being infused with and surrounded by. He was not sure where this all-encompassing need for LaCroix had come from, but as the night had gone on, as he had talked to Schanke, feeling his father's presence close by had relaxed and comforted him. What he needed now was to be consumed by that presence, by his father's love and protection, to be enfolded into it, never to be released. This exchange, this love-making had less to do with passion, with sex, and more to do with reaffirmation and rebirth. And in return, Nicholas pushed everything he wanted and needed and felt into his own blood, making very sure that LaCroix had to read it and accept it; accept that this time, Nicholas was not looking for a way out, but a way in, a way to stay where he was at that moment.

LaCroix deposited his son on the thick, black rug in front of the open fire, leaving him alone for a moment to collect two glasses and the bottle Nicholas had left in the bathroom. When he returned, his son had shifted onto his stomach, facing the fire, his arms folded under his chin. LaCroix settled himself along side, propped up on one elbow facing Nicholas. Behind them, two tall candlesticks held six bright candles, throwing dancing shadows throughout the room. The firelight played across Nicholas' gorgeous body, giving his hair an amber shine, dancing in the deep, rich blue of his eyes. Reaching out, he slowly pushed Nick's hair up behind his ear.

"You're beautiful, Nicholas. The strength of a killer, the power of immortality, the dark nature of our kind, borne by such gentility, such grace, such light. It's little wonder that I could never clear my thoughts of you."

Nick turned his head, resting his cheek on his crossed hands. "Have you always felt like this about me?"

There was no hesitation. "Of course."

For a moment, Nick's eyes held awe, before he closed them from LaCroix's gaze.

"I have something to tell you. I don't know how much you already know about this, but I want to tell you." Nick looked up again, seeing LaCroix tilt his head in interest. "Ten months ago, we worked a case at the Neurological Institute. They had developed a way to flatline without harming the body, dampening the pulses from the brain. I went under, I ... killed myself, induced my own brain death. I went back to that place ... with the light." He stopped. He had watched LaCroix's face, his eyes as he had spoken, and now they had dropped away. He reached out a hand, lacing his fingers with LaCroix's in the deep rug. His father did not resist, accepting his son's gesture, but still not looking up. "The night you brought me across, I went to the same place."

"I know of the place, Nicholas." LaCroix's voice was choked. "There is a light, and a guide, and you are asked to make a choice. I went there when I was brought over. Janette went there and I called her back to me. And I know you also walked towards the light. For a while, I actually thought I had lost you to it. You took ... longer to respond than others have."

"When I returned, I again saw the guide. But this time he appeared to me in your form." LaCroix looked up then, and Nicholas was appalled to see tears in those stunning eyes. "Nat brought me back, restarted my heart... she saved my life. But after that I started having dreams. In each dream I was standing on the sand, on a beach somewhere in the sun. You were either coming towards me, or standing beside me, and you were talking to me. I could never make out what you were saying, but I always woke with a sense of warmth and peace, and a yearning to go to you. I fought it every time. I refused to give in to it, because the guide had called you 'the source of the evil within me'. After a few weeks I didn't know what to think... I was confused and then that whole thing with Serena happened and you were being your usual awkward, pain-in-the-ass self...."

"Believe me, Nicholas, if I had known how close you were, I would have acted differently." He tightened his fingers, clasping his son's hand. "I was so... happy that you were finally starting to ask me for help. I didn't quite know how to react without scaring you off. I knew that if I played arrogant, you'd fight me and keep coming back. You have to realize that all I've ever wanted to do is keep you safe, protect you as I swore to do when I brought you across, it's all any father wants from his child."

Nicholas tightened his own fingers, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I'm sorry. It feels as if my whole being has been missing something for so long that I haven't ever realized that it was missing. But now I've got that piece back, now I have you here, I don't ever want to lose you." He took a deep breath, gazing into the loving eyes of his father. "Was that too much?"

LaCroix chuckled softly. "Yes, Nicholas. That was way over the top." He shifted closer, leaning forward and touching his lips to the other's. "Je t'aime, mon fils. I shall always be here as long as you want me to be. And I have to confess that I have always known that a huge piece was missing from my life. Now I have you back, I'm not going to let go without a fight."

Lying before the fire, fingers entwined, the flames dancing in their eyes, they just watched one another for a long time. "How is your friend?" LaCroix inquired gently.

Nick smiled. "His name is Don Schanke, or Schank. You can address him by his name now." LaCroix nodded in amusement. "He's as well as can be expected. He's finding the pros before the cons, that at least is a good sign."

"How do you plan to train him? What are you going to teach him?"

"I was hoping that you were going to help me on that front."

"I suppose it might help if I... adopted him, so to speak?"

Nick's eyes lit up. "Are you serious?"

"Yes. I don't think either of us see Don Constantine as Father of the Year, and although you probably wouldn't award me that title either you at least can trust me to ensure that he is properly set up for eternity."

"Thank you."

"It's partially my fault this is happening anyway." He paused, shaking his head at the feelings of delight he felt on seeing Nicholas' face. "Mind you, I will only take fatherhood ... so far with Schanke. There were intimacies between myself and my other children that will not occur here."
Nick laughed at his father's roundabout way of saying he would not have sex with this particular vampire. "To be truthful, LaCroix, I'm not sure I like the idea of you being intimate with anyone but me... at least for a while."

LaCroix smiled, rolling himself over so that his body covered Nicholas' left side, his right leg hooked over Nick's left, his stomach against Nick's hip, his chest and head on Nick's back, hugging him, placing light kisses on any accessible skin. "We can't fall asleep here, Lucien."

LaCroix muttered something in French, and licked his tongue over Nicholas' shoulder blade, dragging slightly descended fangs over the pale skin. Nick sighed in utter contentment, closing his eyes, unwittingly thinking back to a time when his efforts were spent trying to cure what he was.

//
Now that he had stopped taking the drug, the vampire came out in full force. Within a minute he had killed, or had at least been the cause of two men's deaths. Not that they had not deserved it. They had been the indirect cause of the death of a cop, a friend of Schanke's, and had attempted to murder him, Schanke and Nat. The city was a safer place without those men in it. Nick was determined that their deaths were not going to add to his guilt. He felt bad enough as it was.

His deliberately risky, toothy grin at Nat that evening had been out of simple relief of the pain that he had existed with for thirty six hours. But the time it took to clear the paperwork exhausted him beyond belief and he had returned home only to fall asleep on his couch for twelve hours.

He awoke with a soaring hunger more intense than anything he had felt in a very long time. Two bottles of bovine later he felt a little better. He had two hours before sunrise. He turned to lean back against the freezer and his gaze fell on the empty syringe packet on the table. Memories of pain and sickness flooded him and his features creased. He suddenly needed to get out of the loft.

The Raven was unusually quiet for the time of night, and Nick sat in his car for a long time, puzzled by the closed club. After a time he dropped his face into his hands and reached out with his mind. A moment later, he climbed out of the car and locked it, knowing with a refreshing certainty that it would be here for the day.

Nick let himself into the club and closed the doors behind him, securing them before he leaned back against them and looked up into the dim light of the bar. LaCroix was watching him, the only other person in the place. "Hello Nicholas."

The gentle tone of his father's voice stunned and choked him. "Hi," was all he could force out past the sudden constriction in his throat.

"Janette did not open tonight. She has been somewhat concerned about you and she asked me to talk to you... in a different tone to the one I used yesterday." The expression on LaCroix's face made Nick's eyebrows rise, and he pushed off the door heading cautiously for the bar.

"Janette... told you off?"

LaCroix frowned. "She told me I could have been more... fatherly."

Nick chuckled at that, shaking his head as he reached the bar and ducked behind it to pour himself a glass of human vintage. LaCroix watched as he did so, accepting a refill from his son. Nick settled himself at the end of the bar, only a foot from the other vampire. Finally, LaCroix could not resist. "Going from one extreme to the other, aren't we Nicholas?"

Nick looked up and wiggled his index finger at his father. "Ah ah, now you know what Janette said, you have to be nice to me."

LaCroix nodded glumly. If he were being honest with himself, he had no desire to torture his son any further, the boy was becoming an expert at doing that to himself. "You look a lot better than you did yesterday."

"I feel slightly better. Although I think the drug's still in my system, I keep having bouts of nausea." Nick looked up suddenly, not quite believing what he had said. "Sorry."

LaCroix shook his head. "Don't be. I... I could have been a little more... understanding perhaps."

"No, you couldn't." There was no maliciousness in Nick's voice, no accusation, simply a statement of fact. "If you'd have acted any differently yesterday I'd have been worried. Although the barbecue impression wasn't strictly necessary."

LaCroix smiled at that, watching his child closely as Nick finished off the glass and poured a second. "Hungry?"

Nick nodded sheepishly. "Yes. I was shot this morning, and with the drug it took a while to heal. I lost a lot of blood on the road, in the trunk of my car." He sighed. "It's never going to come out of the flooring in the trunk."

LaCroix gazed at him with no small measure of disbelief. "You could have bled to death and you're worried about your car?"

"I'm still here," Nick countered. "Unfortunately so are the blood stains." He finished his second glass in one long gulp. He had not realized just how hungry he was. He poured another glass, and raised it to his lips. He was prevented from drinking by LaCroix's hand settling over his. He looked up to meet his father's intense stare. For a moment he was confused, then he read the expression in LaCroix's eyes, the suggestion arcing through their bond. "I don't know...." Nick shook his head.

"Allow me this, Nicholas. Please?"

For a time, he was not sure. But he was so hungry, and he knew how much better he would feel, how alive he would feel if he allowed this. Finally he lowered the glass to the bar and nodded once.

LaCroix got to his feet and moved to stand before his son. Waiting until he saw the assent in Nicholas' eyes, LaCroix stepped a little closer. He was pleasantly startled when Nick's face turned upwards and those soft lips pressed against his, turning into a smile when the younger vampire sensed LaCroix's surprise. For a long moment they stayed like that, like teenagers experimenting with the unknown. And then LaCroix took advantage of what his son was offering, and he parted his lips, pushing his probing tongue until Nick complied and opened his own mouth, kissing LaCroix deeply. When the spell broke, Nick pulled back, smiling with an innocence he had not known for many centuries, and reached up to pull the silver pin from LaCroix's collar. He dropped it carefully to the bar as the elder's own fingers opened Nick's shirt to reveal his throat. Reverently, he pushed the white silk open, tilting his head to allow Nicholas to do the same with his black shirt. Nick stood, finally closing the remaining gap and placing his mouth to LaCroix's neck, flicking his tongue across the cool skin. Closing his eyes, he allowed the vampire free, for once rejoicing in his nature as he sunk his fangs into the pulsing artery awaiting him. The moment his father's powerful, dark blood hit the back of his mouth, Nick's hunger flared and he started to drink. Feeling his blood being taken into his son's body, he slowly bit into Nicholas' throat. They soared together, healing the pain for a while, warming the cold within them both.

LaCroix could taste the remnants of the drug in Nick's blood, but he knew his own would diffuse the impurities and free his son from his self-inflicted nightmare. Feeling his father suffuse him with love and fierce protection, Nick settled, at least for a while, into his nature. The last twenty four hours had been nothing but a blur, first of delight and then of horror, sickness and agony as the vampire had fought back. It was only at these times when he and his father joined like this, as the one being LaCroix insisted that they were, that Nick felt at one with what he was, with his true self. After the ordeal of Nat's "cure", this was what he needed.

They drank from one another, clasped together in the circle of their embrace, for a long, long time. As it had been the first time they had drunk from each other, as it was each time since, the biting and the drinking pushed them both to pleasured heights. The sensations of orgasm pulsed through them both, circling through them, carried in the elixir that was created as their blood mixed. When they finally parted, they truly were each other.

Nick grasped LaCroix's forearms to steady himself, his gold-flecked eyes locked into the other's fiery stare. With a muted sob, the son fell into his father's arms, shifting his grip to the front of LaCroix's shirt and leaning in, accepting the refuge. "How many times will we go through this, Nicholas?" the elder murmured softly. "When will you accept again?"

Against LaCroix's chest, Nick just shook his head. Finally he felt peaceful, and with that feeling came exhaustion. He did not want to argue now. He allowed his side of their link to open slightly, and hoped his father would take the hint and leave the heated discussion until tomorrow. LaCroix tightened his arms and simply stood.

When Nick eventually pulled back, LaCroix nodded in gentle understanding. "Stay?" Nick nodded; he just wanted to sleep. "Then that is all we will do, mon fils."
//

Nicholas thoughts and memories were silently communicated to his father, and LaCroix stopped his nuzzling of his son, lifting his head. He too remembered his child's attempts to cure himself of his vampirism. Doctor Lambert's attempt at least had been genuine. A century and a half early, their brush with the 'resurrection doctor' had been even more dangerous. LaCroix would never forget breaking into the lab to be met by the sight of his son shackled to a slab, a sickly yellowish tube snaking from a roughly cut incision in his arm that had healed around the rubber, holding it painfully in place.

/
/Nicholas was barely conscious, and LaCroix had a sudden urge to batter his son senseless for causing himself and his family so much anguish. The doctor had looked up at the sound of the door opening to admit LaCroix and Janette, and he froze as he watched them descend to the basement level without using the staircase. LaCroix crossed to the wooden slab where Nicholas lay, and very gently caressed his son's hair, silently issuing a mental command for his child to wake and to find the last of his strength. Then he moved to stand behind the doctor.

"What do you plan to do with him?" LaCroix inquired as calmly as possible.

"I.... He will be the jewel of my occult collection. A creature of the night, and such a ... perfect specimen." The voice shook slightly, uncertain of what this menacing stranger wanted.

"How will you keep him here?"

"I have a way to make him weak, as he is now. His blood is being mixed with a substance that dampens his condition, makes him unable to sustain himself. He will be very sick, but I can live with that. I will keep him shackled in a cell with no windows so that the sun will not claim him. He will come to depend on me for food." 

LaCroix closed his eyes. As angry as he was with Nicholas, the thought of his son spending years in this madman's clutches was unbearable. When he opened them again, the ice blue had become a raging fire.

"I would not allow you to treat any of our kind in that fashion, but this is my son." With nothing further, LaCroix bit savagely into the doctor's neck and drained him in a second, leaving Janette to free the waking Nicholas and to join him at the top of the staircase, where his child took his offered hand, scarcely understanding how close he had come to being a captive in this terrible place.
//

"Nicholas, do you still ... if a cure was found, would you take it?"

Nick heard the depths of emotion in his father's unexpected question. He turned in LaCroix's arms, lying on his back to gaze up into the face he knew so well. Silently, he lifted his hand to stroke his fingers across the pale face, and down that sculptured neck. "I have asked myself that. At the moment, the price is too high. And I believe, in time, it will become even higher." The next moment, Nicholas found himself embraced by crushing arms, pulled up against the strong body of his relieved father. Soothing, Nick ran one hand into LaCroix's hair, the other over his arm and shoulders, down his back. "My running from you is over. My running from what we are is over. I hope some day to prove that to you."

***

Just under 770 years ago, LaCroix had been Nicholas' teacher; strict, quick to punish, quicker to reward, but always patient, and always thorough. Nick had been an avid, eager student, an excitable, lusty vampire wanting to see everything and to do everything all at once. Most of all, he wanted to learn, to please his sire, to become the best in the Community. He wanted his father to be proud of him. And LaCroix had loved him for it, had seen a joy in his unquenchable spirit that had delighted the Elder. Even after LaCroix's rape of Nicholas that night so soon after he had been brought across, and the resulting hostility, it had only taken a few weeks of gentle reassurances and tender apologies to allow the young one to settle once more in his presence.

LaCroix's ability to teach his children was legendary. In the early days, other vampires had been loath to take on any of the elder's children, a fact of which LaCroix was proud. In the thirteen hundreds, when LaCroix and Nicholas' relationship had been at its most intimate and intense, their skills were honed to perfection. They would hunt together, using each other to pinpoint their prey before attacking from different directions, one covering the actions of the other. None came close to them.

The old General dropped his head against the nearest tree as Nicholas continued to evade Schanke in this mock-up hunt. The thick snow on the ground was not helping, but LaCroix knew Nicholas was being easy on his partner, and they still were not getting anywhere. It was more difficult because LaCroix did not have the direct mental link with this new-born that he would have had if the child had been his own. There were ways of strengthening a bond between them, but neither Nick nor LaCroix really liked the idea, and Nick was sure any mention of it would have Schanke running screaming from them.

Schanke had surprised them both by attaining an excellent level of control over his hunger within a day of their arrival at the cottage. In these times the ability to hunt was not needed for survival - Nick used his old talents now to catch criminals. But he had agreed that LaCroix taught Schanke how he saw fit, and that was to include hunting. LaCroix was beginning to regret his insistence that this be one of the lessons. He lifted his forehead from the tree, sensing his son close by. A moment later Nicholas was grinning at him, leaning against the same tree. LaCroix's frustration melted away as his son stepped towards him and leaned in, pressing his lips to his father's. When his child pulled back, LaCroix imagined that his face was flushed with his activity in the cold. He had melting snow in his hair which was slowly dripping down over his temple. LaCroix placed his lips to Nicholas' face and licked one of the droplets of water. He brought his arms up around the other, hugging his precious creation of his to him as he tasted the relative warmth of Nicholas beneath the cool liquid.

Nick squirmed in LaCroix's embrace, pushing closer, burrowing into his sire's thick coat. He pushed his head up under his father's chin, tilting his face to kiss the pale throat. LaCroix moaned softly, tucking Nicholas under his chin further, tightening his embrace, gently kissing his hair. Nick slipped his arms around the firm body he was clasped to, going under LaCroix's coat, one hand on the small of his back, the other further up. As he stood clasped to the other, the younger vampire felt a small hardness pressed into his cheek, and he turned his head to find LaCroix's shirt buttons were before him. Deliberately breathing in the scent of his father he allowed the vampire change to sweep over him, tantalised by the heady proximity of this elder who could exact reactions from his body at the slightest touch, could arouse him by simply breathing on his skin. Using the tip of a needle-sharp fang, Nick cut through the cotton holding the button to the shirt, and the small disk dropped away. Smiling, he continued down to the next one.

LaCroix felt his son's breath on his skin, combined with a sudden chill as he was exposed to the air. Confused, he grasped Nicholas by his shoulders and pushed him away slightly, looking down and back up with mock anger. "What are you doing, you little demon?"

Nick glanced up with a mix of innocence and mischief; a mix LaCroix knew no one else would ever have the audacity to gaze upon him with.

"I'm getting closer to you."

A heartbeat later, he pushed back into the circle of his father's arms, snuggling in and continuing where he had left off. A few moments and LaCroix's shirt fell open, bereft of any fastenings. Immediately, Nicholas' tongue was upon him, licking in small swirls from the centre out, over a nipple and then crossing back to the opposite one, biting that gently. LaCroix groaned, tipping his head back and moving his fingers into Nick's snowy, damp hair. As he explored with his tongue and lips, nipping with his teeth at the points that he knew would drive LaCroix slowly insane, Nick reached down between them, expertly making light work of pushing the leather of his father's belt through the buckle and releasing it. One button and a zipper later, Nick was rewarded with a hardening phallus springing free into his palm.

LaCroix's knees threatened to give way as his son squeezed his cock firmly. He felt long, talented fingers reaching further into his trousers, down over the base of his erection to his testicles. Convulsively, his arms tightened around Nicholas' back, unable to do much else, his full attention latched onto what his beautiful son was doing to him.

Schanke leaned back against a large, sprawling tree. He could feel his hunger growling at him from within, wanting to feed. He was relived now that he seemed to have some control, to have the ability to free the vampire when it was safe to do so, even if the only things he had been able to sink his teeth into lately were forest animals. He did not seem to be able to push away the memory of his attack on Nick that evening in the alley; the richness and honeyed taste of his partner's hot blood, the energy and pleasure he gleaned from taking it into himself. He was slowly beginning to understand what Nick had been saying about gender not mattering where the bloodlust was concerned. And now part of him was wondering about blood exchange, and what the other vampire had said about his relationship with LaCroix. Sighing slightly, Schanke closed his eyes and concentrated. A moment later he headed back in the direction from which he had come.

Dragging in a breath between his clenched teeth, LaCroix grasped Nicholas' shoulders and lifted him from his knees, and from the mind-blowing sucking of his master's cock. The moment Nick met LaCroix's eyes, he grinned, widening his own golden-specked gaze as he stood back slightly to unfasten his own trousers and step out of them as they fell to the snow-covered ground.

"Take me, Lucien. Here. Now." 

LaCroix felt his already enflamed desire leap at Nicholas' bold request. He watched as his son took his hands and moved them so that Nicholas' back was a foot or so from the tree he had originally stopped against. Drawing his sire close, the young vampire rose into the air, levitating without effort or thought. He wrapped his legs around LaCroix's waist, enjoying the surprised look that played on his master's usually stoic features.

"Don't you want me, Lucien?" he rasped out, already knowing the answer. He moved closer still, clasping his thighs tightly to the other's hips, rubbing himself on the hardened length that now pressed up under his testicles. The crushing of his own cock between their bellies was becoming unbearable, and still his sire just seemed to stand there watching him. "LaCroix, please," he begged. 

Nicholas' urging finally served to break the spell, and LaCroix slid his hands down to cup his son's firm buttocks, lifting him and then guiding his own phallus into the cleft. Nick moaned, his head going back, falling against the tree trunk as LaCroix pushed his cock against the tight opening to his body. The position was awkward, but they had managed in worse and it had always been worth the extra exertion. Suddenly, Nick dropped down, impaling himself, letting loose a gentle cry as LaCroix's cock was forced to penetrate him. The sharp pain stabbed into Nicholas' bowels, rising to his chest as he was filled unstoppably by his own movement. He slid down steadily until the angle allowed them no closer, and then he stopped, pulling in his breath, letting his head clear of the raw pain.

"Nicholas...."

LaCroix waited, his son weightless in his arms, held to him as each embraced the other. A few moments of adjustment and Nick leaned back. He placed his hands on his father's shoulders, beginning to move up and down, clenching his internal muscles as he shifted, gripping LaCroix's cock as his lover's nails bit into his back.

Schanke stopped dead in his tracks. He had heard something, like a cry or a howl. He waited, finding infinite patience that definitely did not come from his mortal self. Several minutes passed until he was rewarded with another sound, this time a low moan of something between pleasure and pain. Changing direction slightly, he headed toward the source of this enticing noise.

Nicholas rode LaCroix with increasing abandon, rising up and throwing himself down hard, burying his sire's cock deeper within him each time. With the rapidly speeding rhythm, Nick changed his angle, driving himself harder against LaCroix's body, enabling more of the long heavy cock to penetrate. Neither thought of the cries they were allowing to break free; both too captured in the bliss of their joining to care who or what heard them. Together like this they were invincible.

The sounds became clearer, brighter as Schanke moved quickly through the trees. The snow-laden land did not slow his determined progress and he shifted with the grace of an expert, driven on by his curiosity and his hunger. Whatever was making those sounds would be eagerly fed upon, Schanke had already decided.

LaCroix was experiencing an overload to his senses. His beloved angel of a son was riding his cock with complete abandon. They were standing, thrusting together against an age-old tree in a snow-covered forest; their coats at least were masking the evidence of what their bodies were so obviously engaged in. The elder was being bombarded by the sandalwood scent of his son's intense arousal, by the coppery tang of blood sweat, by the closeness of Nicholas' throat, bared as his head rested against the tree behind him. His cock was being pummelled by his son's muscles that were gripping him hard, making each and every movement almost painfully exquisite. He could feel his orgasm rushing up to take him, to hurl him over the edge. Driving his hand between them to start pumping furiously at Nicholas' own cock, he held desperately to his son, wanting nothing more than to pull him over that edge with him.

Schanke slammed his back against the nearest tree, his senses ablaze. He had arrived at a small clearing, knowing he was at the source of the sounds which had drawn him, only to find Nick and LaCroix fucking against one of the trees further in. The sight had captured him for a moment and he had found himself unable to tear his eyes from the scene before him. Until his survival instincts had kicked in. He could hear them so clearly, just yards from where he was now hiding out of sight. From what he had learned, if either vampire had been remotely aware of anything but the other, he would have been sensed. But they seemed enraptured. Moving to the side, Schanke peered around the tree.

Nick knew he could not hold on for much longer. His fingers gripped LaCroix's shoulders so hard he was drawing blood and the scent of his master's life essence had driven him further up to the brink on which he was now poised. LaCroix's master touch on his cock balanced him on the edge, and he clenched the muscles in his rectum hard, slamming himself down, pushing LaCroix into a spiral of brilliant light. He felt his father spasm, convulsing against him, coming deep, deep inside him. A moment later, LaCroix's head came forward and he brutally buried his fangs into Nicholas' throat. Nick screamed, the ecstasy coursing through him as he came into his master's pumping hand, unable to do anything more but fall forward and sink his own teeth into his father's neck.

LaCroix's blood sang with the second orgasm at his son's bite. He reasserted his own hold in Nicholas' flesh, tearing it painfully in his desperation to have more of the honey blood he desired. He could feel his own blood being pulled from him and drunk down hungrily. His whole body started to sing with the sharing. Buried almost completely inside his son, LaCroix allowed his mind to join with Nicholas', opening their link completely, dropping his own mental barriers in a wild need to be closer to his child, to become a part of him, for Nicholas to merge with his father until they became one entity, empowered with the spirit and life blood of the other.

Nick felt he was drowning. He wanted nothing more than this. Drinking down LaCroix's blood he tasted everything that his father was. LaCroix's opening of their link stunned him momentarily before he started to lose himself in the triple penetration of his body and soul. His whole being was laid open for LaCroix to read. Profoundly touched by Nicholas' willingness to give himself over, LaCroix poured his knowledge, his thoughts, and his intense love into his blood, enabling Nicholas to take what he wanted, to take all that he needed.

Slowly, Nick knew centuries more experience than he actually had. The ways of ages long dead weaved their path into his mind, connecting with his own memories. Fleeting images passed him by too quickly to be easily translated, yet some buried themselves in his subconscious where only LaCroix would be able to find them. The intensity of the exchange deepened, joining father and son on a level that enhanced everything each was and mirrored it back to the other.

Schanke opened his eyes, seeing the world once more in a haze of red and gold. He snarled quietly as he watched the two vampires crash together, spearing each other with razor fangs, drinking from each other as if both were starving. His mind thudded with the dull roar of the bloodlust rising uncontrollably within him, the beast struggling to free itself, his hunger desperately wanting in on the action just out of reach. Finally, the beast won over his own senses and he rushed at the couple with sickening speed.

LaCroix's own howl of pain - an echo of Nick's - came moments after he was startled by his son ripping his fangs violently from his neck and letting loose a heart-stopping scream of agony. LaCroix pulled out of Nicholas, turning blazing eyes on the intruder. Schanke had crossed to them and without warning had plunged his aching teeth into Nick's upper arm. LaCroix furiously grabbed Schanke's head and tore him away from his beloved, eliciting a second yell from Nicholas, and flinging the new vampire against the next tree, watching as he crumpled to the ground. He could feel the assault of Nicholas' mangled thoughts upon his mind and hushed his panicked son, pulling him close against himself and lowering them both to the ground. LaCroix gathered his momentarily confused child into his lap, feeling him curl his body up and burrow into the embrace that surrounded him with love. The elder wrapped his long thick coat around them both, almost burying Nicholas from sight, nothing but the golden crown of his head visible to the rest of the world. He understood the reason for his son's sudden collapse. The vicious interruption of their intensely deep blood exchange had ripped one from the other as they were so closely entwining their very selves. The pain had wrenched them apart, and buried so deep in strange thoughts and memories not his own, Nicholas had been left flailing, falling in the sudden void that scant moments before had been a joining of them both.

As Nicholas began to calm, he sat up slightly, his head poking almost comically from the confines of LaCroix's coat. He blinked in the relative brightness of the moonlight and looked up at his father.

"C'est mal."

LaCroix nodded, understanding shining clearly in his eyes, and stroked a gentle hand over Nicholas' hair.

"Es tu bien?"

Nick nodded uncertainly and looked about to find the perpetrator of the attack. He groaned when he saw Schanke starting to rise from the dazed state the unexpected flight had left him with. Glancing back at LaCroix, he knew that his position and need for closeness was the only thing standing between Schanke and a quick death. LaCroix had killed for less. Schanke's first attack on Nick, back in the alley in Toronto, had been understandable; he had been hurt, shocked by his own reaction to the burning sunlight, and he had desperately needed to feed. But this... this would not go unpunished by LaCroix.

"Let me handle it?" Nick asked his father quietly.

"Attacking you is unforgivable."

"Lucien, please? He may have had reason."

LaCroix's eyes shone ochre as he glared at Schanke over Nick's head. He was fuming, his anger calling out for a reaction to the liberty this young whelp had taken with his son. But he could feel the pressure of Nicholas' plea in his mind. "Any other, mon fils...."

"I know."

LaCroix took a deep breath simply to calm himself, and settled his gaze back on Nick. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm sure." He touched his lips to LaCroix's. "We'll meet you back at the cottage and I will ensure that he gives you a full apology."

LaCroix nodded and once Nick had pulled his trousers back on, he unwrapped himself from around his son. "I will go and see what other pleasures this forest has to offer," he murmured. "Although none will come close to you, amant."

After watching LaCroix disappear into the trees, Nick moved swiftly to Schanke who still looked fairly dazed and confused. "That could have earned you a life-expectancy of about twelve seconds," he muttered as he neared his partner.

Schanke looked up, shaking his head as Nick settled beside him. "I am so sorry... I don't know what came over me.... Is he mad?"

"Yes. Many vampires have died for less."

"Man... I could hear things. I thought it was an animal. I tracked the sounds and when I saw you two...." He looked up. "Sorry, Nick. Did I hurt you?"

"The injury has healed, but you surprised me. Attacking a vampire in mid blood-exchange is highly dangerous and not recommended. You're lucky he didn't break your neck the moment you bit me."

"I am really sorry."

Nick nodded, reaching out to touch his partner's arm. "Don't do it again."

"No."

"And he will require a full and resounding apology when you see him."

"Yes." Nick could not help but smile.

"So... do I take it that you're hungry?"

Schanke thought about that. His collision with the tree had set the hunger back slightly, but now he could no longer feel any after-effects of cracking his head against the wood, he was beginning to feel the approach of the bloodlust. "I think so."

Nick stood and helped Schanke to his feet. "LaCroix will take you hunting tomorrow night if you want. Until then, the bottled stuff really is quite acceptable. And it can be warmed in the mircowave."

Schanke nodded as they headed back to the cottage.

***

There were still a few hours before dawn. LaCroix was not back but Nick could feel his father indulging himself in the pleasures of hunting. Schanke was relaxing on the sofa, feet up on the table, his second bottle of warmed blood hanging from his fingers. Nicholas himself was lounging in the bath, rediscovering what his father had found so delightful the previous morning. Sinking into the sandalwood bubbles, he drifted off, relaxing with the warmth and the aroma, letting his exhausted body restore itself.

Having sated his considerable hunger and calmed the angry beast within him, LaCroix returned to the cottage, reaching out through their bond to sense the bright, relaxed presence of his son. Obviously their intense blood exchange had not caused any undue distress, and although they would have talk about it, for tonight he was content to let Nicholas rest. Entering the cottage, he shook the snow from his coat and deposited it one of the hooks by the door. As he walked passed the opening into the lounge, he saw Schanke stand from the sofa. LaCroix stopped, and for a while the two gazed at each other.

"I'm sorry, LaCroix."

The elder was silent for a moment, and then nodded, continuing on into the kitchen to find a wineglass. Kicking off his shoes he headed back into the lounge to sit beside the newest member of his family. As he held up the glass, Schanke immediately took the hint and poured.

"You have to understand that Nicholas is the most precious thing in the world to me."

Schanke nodded, even though the words had provoked questions in his mind, he thought it best to keep them to himself for now. "I have apologized to him too. I honestly don't understand what happened."

LaCroix allowed himself to let go of the remnants of his anger. Nicholas had remained open to him all night, and his child's bright presence in his mind had soothed him further still. Under different circumstances Schanke would have had his throat torn out for attacking Nicholas as he had. But it was now in the past, and he had been impressed by the young one's forthright apology.

"You are still only a few days old," he conceded. "Nicholas had no control for several weeks. And not just of the bloodlust." He looked sideways at Schanke's expression. "There is more to this immortal existence than drinking blood and avoiding sunlight. As you witnessed in the forest, vampires often fuck with wild abandon and without a care for who sees or hears them."

Schanke tore his wide-eyed stare away from the elder. Did he really just say that?

"I... err... I didn't mean to... to stand and watch...." He closed his mouth, unsure about this, despite the warmth that flooded through him as the memories rushed back. The fear of LaCroix's retaliation had subdued him from the moment his fangs had been torn out of Nick's flesh, but now his life seemed in no danger he could not stop the flashbacks; the sight of the two together, the heat as the lust had driven through him causing the loss of reason that had resulted in him burying his teeth into his partner's arm and tasting their mingled orgasms for one unforgettable moment.

He pulled himself back from his mind, glancing up to find LaCroix watching him with some amusement. "We aroused you," he stated simply, smiling some indistinct smile Schanke might have associated with a predator who has captured his prey and was taking his time with it before lunch.

"..." Schanke's mouth opened and he snapped it shut, taking a gulp of the liquid from the glass in his shaking hands.

"It's all right. There's no need for shame or embarrassment. Nicholas has only to be in the same room to arouse me. I dare say that we do look ... stunning together." Schanke kept absolutely still. LaCroix smiled that smile again and turned himself, leaning back into the corner of the couch, stretching his arm out across the low back, sipping from his own glass. He studied the other vampire for a short while, and then decided that this particular conversation could wait. He schooled his expression before changing the subject. "I believe you have a family."
Schanke visibly relaxed, although the pain that flashed in his features was all too obvious. He nodded. "A wife and daughter."

"You understand that you will never be able to see them again." The gentleness in the spoken tone surprised Schanke; this sudden change was unexpected. He found he could only nod. "We can arrange to fake your death, and have you leave Toronto. That way your family will be looked after, financially at least."

Schanke nodded again; the subject swing had really thrown him, as well as having the effect of jostling his emotions to the point of turmoil. He could do nothing to change what had happened. He had thought long about Myra and Jenny, and had already concluded that maybe faking his own death was the best way. The thought of simply leaving her, facing her and telling her that he was never coming back, was too painful and almost impossible to bear. He knew how she would hurt believing him dead, but the grief would pass, Jenny would have all her memories intact without bitterness. Was that not the point to touching the lives of others? To leave them with only the good memories and with no bitter feelings to taint the past? Somehow, he understood that he had to go on, that he could not cling to what had been before. He felt almost as if he were dead, and that this was an afterlife - eternity. Maybe one day, when Jenny was older, Myra could join him here. Maybe he would simply move on and never return. Another, new pang of sorrow pulled at his heart. Nick. They had just started to get to know one another. Maybe they could remain together somehow.... Maybe sometime in the future. He looked across at LaCroix, all fear gone from him.

"You're right. That would be the best way."

Schanke shook himself from his thoughts. When he stayed too long with his memories of Myra and Jenny, it started to hurt too much. Change the subject, his quiet inner voice told him. He smiled as he too made himself more comfortable. "What was Nick like, as a kid?"

LaCroix actually chuckled at the description. "We prefer the term 'fledgling'. Nicholas was... insatiable in everything. He lusted to know all of what we were, of what he had become. Even after our rather... difficult beginnings, he respected the new relationship that was between us then, he absorbed all he could learn and he learnt quickly and well, lending his own twist to many traditions and skills and in time teaching me new tricks. He was the most accomplished hunter I had ever seen, adding his own wit to everything I could teach him." LaCroix's eyes glittered.  "He is everything I knew he would be."

Schanke felt warmed by the obvious pride in LaCroix's voice. "Do you have many children?"

"I have made countless vampires over the centuries for a great many different reasons. But... I do not regard them all as my children." He sipped at his drink. "Janette is my eldest, Nicholas is my youngest."

Schanke's eyes widened. "Nick was the last vampire you brought over?"

LaCroix shook his head. "As I said, I do not see all vampires that I make as my children. Your father, for example, is the last vampire I brought over, and I did that as a favour to Nicholas. But after imparting a few basic rules I left him, believing that he could handle himself." A sad expression crossed his stark features. "When I first had Nicholas he was all I could ask for in a son. With Janette there I had a family, and after she parted company from us, Nicholas and I were companions." LaCroix's voice quieted, as if he were speaking only to himself. "When he began to turn from me, from our nature, he brought me so much pain I could not stand the thought of raising another fledgling." He looked back at Schanke. "Since then I have expended all my energies in trying to persuade Nicholas to give up his search for mortality and his crushing of his vampire nature. Now I seem to have succeeded in getting my son back... I am determined to make up for the time we've lost. I believe I would like to get to know him again."

***

LaCroix had woken to an empty space in the bed beside him. A cold chill ran down his spine at the memories of centuries of nights awoken to alone. He shook the feelings, preventing them from squeezing the warmth from his heart, and swung himself out from under the sheet. His robe was in a graceful pile on the floor where Nicholas had dropped it that morning. He smiled as he pulled it on and tied the deep crimson sash around his waist. This silk robe was his favourite, and thus getting it off his son's back was usually a difficult task. Opening the bedroom door, LaCroix's soul was settled by the soft sound of piano playing coming from the lounge. He paused in the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of the bloodwine, and then headed into the lounge.

Candles held high on iron candelabras lit the room. Outside the unshuttered windows the evening moon was low in the sky, casting shadows against the amber glows of the flickering flames. Nicholas was sitting at the piano, fingers gliding sensuously over the keys. He wore a white silk shirt, open, over a pair of black silk trousers that the elder recognized as his own. LaCroix smiled as he stepped into the room, his eyes gliding over Nick's gently rippling chest and taut belly. He heard the final notes of the Beethoven piece that his child had always loved, and paused, hoping he would choose to start another piece. His next choice was darker, and unknown to LaCroix. The elder's interest was piqued when Nicholas began to sing, quiet and measured, the strange lyrics that went with the music.

"Never get angry at the stupid people
Though I go crazy at the dullness of my life
Sit and I stare into a dusty window
An empty face stares back at me and cries - "

LaCroix stepped further into the room, sipping from his glass.

"My vulnerability rushes up to me and I'm left here
The rebel without a cause
The deeper I delve into
The consciousness of me and you - "

LaCroix stepped up to the piano, meeting Nicholas' eyes as he looked up, but continued to sing.

" - The harder it gets
I need to close my eyes
What hurts me most
I'll never see your eyes again."

Nick continued to play the music, yet he stopped singing, smiling at his father.

"You do have a beautiful voice, mon coeur, I hadn't realized...." Nick tilted his head in thanks. "What is the song?"

"It's a recent piece, a pop song. 'Piano Song'."

"It's beautiful." Nick ended the music, and LaCroix moved to sit beside his son on the stool.

"I used to play it... the words used to mean something." He sighed wistfully, smiling softly. "Now they just serve to remind me of what I could have lost for eternity." His fingers lay on the ivory keys, not moving. Next to him, their arms barely touching, his sire sat unmoving, save to bring the glass in his far hand to his lips. After a long moment, LaCroix placed his glass onto the piano top and reached his left hand up and under Nick's right arm, momentarily brushing his son's fingers before placing his own long digits onto the piano keys, stroking them lightly.

"It has been so long, Nicholas. When was our last duet?"

Nick gazed at his father's pale fingers. "This morning, Lucien. And we were in perfect harmony." He felt his master's warm response through the link that bonded them.

"That wasn't quite what I meant, mon amant." LaCroix's fingers began a quiet, smooth playing. "You had a restless sleep, mon cher?"

Nicholas easily took up the familiar duet. "I had a nightmare."

"Do you wish to tell me about it?" LaCroix's voice was deceptively light.

"I dreamt that I was trapped in a burning house. I couldn't escape, each time I thought I had found an exit, it disappeared." Nick kept his voice level with some difficulty. "I finally flew up through the flames, hoping to get out, but I couldn't... they just went on and on and I could feel myself starting to burn." Nicholas focused his thoughts on the music.

LaCroix reached for a note, touching his son's fingers deliberately. "You should have woken me."

"Why should I have disturbed you?" The duet started to flow, taking on a life of its own, winding between father and son.

"To allow me a chance to comfort you."

Nick's smile danced between them, sensed rather than seen as they played together. "I'm not a child, Lucien."

"You are *my* child, Nicholas." Although he had heard the words a thousand times or more, this time they sounded different, less a statement of possession, more a claim of love and affection. "Before I had you, I did not truly know what it meant to have a son. Now, I finally feel that I have a friend in you, a brother. A companion."

Nick paused in his playing, breaking the ebb of notes to gaze up at his father. "You have a son in me, Lucien ... Sire." He heard LaCroix's sharp intake of breath at the word. Yet the music, now a solo, continued unbroken.

"You have not called me that since those first years."

"It's no longer threatening." was Nick's simple reply.

"Is that why you have dropped your mental defences, as well as your emotional ones?" The softness of his voice touched Nick. He thought for a time resuming, as he did so, his part of the duet.

"How often did I use our link to call to you when I was in danger or when I needed you? Not once did I consider that you may sometimes need me just as desperately." He lifted his right hand from the keyboard, running his forefinger up his lover's arm before again joining the piece. "I enjoy feeling you there. I have always known, always been aware of your presence within my mind, of your ... cradling of me." He felt LaCroix's hum of compassion at the description. "You know that I resented you being there when I turned from you, I wanted to shut you out of every part of my existance. I couldn't ... not completely. When we began to talk again, when you started to become a true part of my life again.... I can't honestly explain it. It isn't lonely with you there. I'm less afraid with you there."

The music faded from their ears as both stopped playing in unison. The younger's fingers remained still on the keys as LaCroix covered them with his own. Then Nick's hands were being taken, held, moved from the piano and used to turn him to his sire. "I'm not asking for your vulnerability, or for your submission. I know how strong you can be, I have tasted your own lust for life, your passion and desire, many times. It is not a detail that is easily forgotten. I want your light with me, your companionship at my side. I wish to teach you everything that I was taught. The deeper darkness, the higher pleasures, more than anything we have touched."

Nick looked up, meeting LaCroix's questing eyes. "Was that what I tasted last night, outside?"

"Yes. I'm sorry... you were never supposed to meet it in that way; unexpectedly. I know that you have ideas, I know that you have learnt of some of what I'm speaking of. But last night was so intense, you were so open to me, I wanted to show you the same within myself. I am sorry, I know I disturbed you."

Nick shook his head slightly. "It was so mixed in with what I can always, have always been able to taste in your blood. Whatever else I read there, it was still you. There isn't another that I trust with as implicitly as I trust you."

LaCroix felt his own cold heart glow at his son's words. Sometimes, more than others, it was difficult to believe that it could be like this between them after all the viciousness and hatred that had passed before. He leaned forward and dropped a chaste kiss to Nick's lips then stood, moving from the piano stool to the couch. Once settled into a corner, he rested his arm across the back, his eyes inviting his companion to join him and smiling, Nick went to settle himself against his master. Once they were both comfortably ensconced on the couch, LaCroix tightened his arms around his son. "Maybe, Nicholas, you could accept some advice?" he murmured softly.

The change in his tone was not lost on Nick. "Of course."

"I had a talk with young Schanke this morning and I think we came to an agreement about how to end his mortal existence in the eyes of his family and friends." Nick sighed gently, knowing that this had to be discussed but recognizing the pain that so many people were going to suffer, understanding how many lives they were about to shatter. LaCroix could read the thoughts and the sadness flowing through his son; for once he believed that he understood. He released one of the hands that he held and ran his fingers up Nick's arm, over his shoulder to touch the sensitive skin of the side of his throat, pushing up into the soft blond hair at the nape of his child's neck. "I know, mon fils, but we can only make the best of a bad situation."

Nick nodded, lifting his head to meet his father's concerned gaze. "What was the decision?"

"We shall arrange a car accident after a police car chase. His family already believe that he is out of town investigating a crime. With a little professional help we will be able to produce a body and the required false records. You know that we have specialists in this field. His family will be provided for and after a period of grieving they will be left with untainted memories of him. Jenny will grow up proud of her father and Myra will maybe remarry in time. It is the best way." Nick was amazed at the compassion being shown by his ancient sire. He let the amazement show clear in his expression. LaCroix raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"I was just thinking how different your treatment of me was when I was Schanke's age."

The elder's eyes darkened. "Times were very different, Nicholas. You know that."

Nick turned his head and smiled up, kissing LaCroix's chin as it was the only part of his father he could comfortably reach. "I think your suggestion is the right way to go."

"Good. I shall make the arrangements tonight. Tomorrow we can return to Toronto, and you and Schanke should pay Aristotle a visit."
Nick nodded, uncertain what to do about that. Schank was far too young to be left to fend for himself. He leaned his head back against LaCroix's shoulder and closed his eyes. LaCroix waited, certain that Nicholas was going to say something. But a few minutes later he heard his son's breathing slow and then stop. The elder rolled his eyes, touching his lips to the blond hair pressed against him. He settled back, happy just to feel his beloved resting trusting in his arms.

Schanke rose an hour or so later, having slept restlessly. His first port of call was the kitchen for breakfast - the first meal of the day was still the most important. He remembered Myra always saying that to he and Jenny. He had dreamt of Myra. She had been standing in the sunlight next to his black marble gravestone. In her fingers she held a single, blood-red rose, its thorns pricking her flesh, causing droplets of blood to fall to his fresh grave. There was no emotion in the dream, just a kind of all-encompassing peace. He knew he was doing the right thing considering the few choices he had.

Schanke padded through to the lounge and stopped in mid-stride, his face breaking into a grin at the sight that met him. LaCroix was watching him with only the barest hint of a smile and the air of someone guarding something of priceless value. Wrapped in LaCroix's arms, head lolled against the elder's shoulder, legs curled, his own hands crossed on his chest, Nick was sleeping soundly. He looked like an angel in his white silk shirt and loose trousers, his blonde hair a mess. Schanke gazed at the pair for a short while, and at sometime in those moments he saw what it meant for Nicholas to call LaCroix 'father', and for LaCroix to call the other 'son'. He knew that he would never have this with his own vampire master; and bringing the image of Thomas Constantine to mind he realized that it was not something he really wanted. He understood that the attraction between Nick and LaCroix threaded back through the ages to the moment they first laid eyes upon one another in a castle in Paris.

Blinking his thoughts away, he noticed LaCroix inviting him to take a seat, and he moved to sit at the end of the couch. "Sleep well?" the elder inquired quietly, and Schanke nodded.

Looking the young vampire over once, LaCroix could tell that he was lying, but he could not bring himself to make an issue of it. One day, but not now. Now was far too warm and comfortable. "It's today, isn't it?" Schanke kept his voice at a whisper, knowing LaCroix would hear him perfectly.

"Yes. I will make all the necessary arrangements and Nicholas will then deal with the aftermath. You need not do anything."

"That easy, huh?"

LaCroix nodded. "Death is a mere inconvenience. Once this is done, you can enjoy your new life. Don't carry any regrets with you, let them go. And I know these days it is the fashion for new vampires to attend their own funerals but I do not recommend it. It is a sentimental gesture, nothing more. There is nothing to be gained from it but a pain that will do nothing but weigh you down. Let it go now, it was over the moment Constantine attacked you. Let it be."

Schanke nodded. He had had thoughts of attending, but after his dream, he had not been sure. He decided to do as LaCroix suggested. He took a few sips from his mug, relishing in the strength he could feel flowing into his body, like the morning's first cup of coffee. As he drank, their sleeping companion muttered something to himself and opened his eyes.

Nick gazed at Schanke for a moment, confused. Then he realized where he was and tilted his head to smile apologetically at his father. "Oops."

"'Oops', Nicholas? Is that all you can say after using me as your pillow for an hour?" But LaCroix's tone was light, and Nick merely grinned and nodded, turning back and catching sight of the mug in Schanke's hands. He looked imploring at his partner.

"Ooh, could you get me one of those?"

Schanke raised his eyebrows. "What did your last slave die of, Knight?"

"Exhaustion. Please...." Schanke shook his head and clambered to his feet, putting his own drink on the nearby table.

"LaCroix?"

LaCroix nodded. "Thank you."

As Schanke disappeared into the kitchen at the end of the short hallway, Nick turned again to his sire and this time LaCroix tipped his own head down to meet his son's kiss. They lingered there, Nick flicking his tongue along LaCroix's lips, LaCroix responding by catching the teasing muscle in his teeth and biting down gently. Nick pulled back grinning. "You make a very comfortable pillow."

"Ummm. Do not make a habit out of using me this way, Nicholas."

"You don't mean that."

"Maybe not, but I have to maintain some sort of front, do I not?"

Nick looked back as Schanke returned and handed them each a mug. "Thanks, Partner."

"I won't say anytime."

LaCroix snorted his agreement. "He does take advantage, wouldn't you agree."

Schanke sat back down, nodded adamantly. "Definitely."

Quiet enveloped them for a time until LaCroix broached the subject that represented the final step in Schanke's new life. "We have to decide where you are going to live." He told the young vampire. "Wherever you decide to go, Nicholas and I will go with you, for a month or so. After that we shall decide whether to stay, or to return to Toronto." When he finished, LaCroix glanced down at his son, but although there had been no discussion of this, there was no surprise from Nicholas; it was what he had been expecting, the only viable option.

Schanke nodded. He had already realized that he would be unable to stay in Toronto, and the only thing that might have kept him there was the friendship he had finally discovered with his partner. "I'd like to go to England," he murmured. "I've never been and I think it's somewhere I could settle for a few years."

LaCroix nodded. "England it is, I shall contact Aristotle. Or maybe you should, mon fils, explain the situation. He has never liked me." Nick chuckled.

"That's because I have made a habit of relaying stories of your fathering to him over the ages."

"Well, maybe you could continue that tradition when you speak to him. That way the stubborn vampire might start to cooperate when I require information."

Schanke listened to the exchange, the familiarity and banter between the other two giving him high hopes for his own future. Eternity as a vampire would not be dark and bloody, it was not an age of coffins and damp soil and always running from mortals determined to drive a fence stake through your chest with a tent mallet. Vampires lived well, and he would take all the advice he could get when it came to financial matters. He could do anything, go anywhere, and with LaCroix's tutoring he could learn quickly. Tonight his life would change for the rest of eternity. Tonight he would die to be reborn. He looked at Nick and LaCroix, and finally accepted all the new feelings that had been pouring into him over the last few days, from that moment he had bitten Nick, drank the honey blood that ran through the blonde vampire's veins. He could not wipe the images of the previous night from his mind; now he knew what Nick really was he could see something in his partner, could see what he had watched others - women and men - see in him and never recognized. It did not matter any more. The rules and stereotypes of mortal men no longer applied to him, there was a new code to live by now.

Schanke's train of thought was disturbed by Nick stretching his legs out, putting his feet up on his friend's thighs. He looked up and gave the cheeky blonde vampire a mock scowl. His partner's deep blue gaze was watching him closely, obviously expecting some sort of emotional breakdown that just was not coming. He was past that. Carefully, Schanke wrapped his free hand around Nick's left foot, rubbing the sole slightly with his thumb, gauging any reaction from either vampire. When none was forthcoming, except a genuine smile crossing Nick's face, he put his mug down on the table behind them and deepened the touch, massaging both feet.

Nick did not move when Schanke took a tentative hold of his foot. He mentally reached out to LaCroix, ensuring his sire was all right with what they both knew was happening. LaCroix's reply was a strong wave of possession and love, but it carried an undercurrent of understanding. His embrace tightened, hugging his son closer. As far as LaCroix was concerned, too many had already taken advantage of his Nicholas, too many had already hurt him; himself included.

Schanke shifted one hand, stroking his fingers over Nick's ankle in an intimate caress that sent a sudden shiver up the blonde vampire's spine. LaCroix felt its echo and smiled, stroking his fingers over his son's arm. "Nous lui excitons."

Nick kept his expression schooled, but he expressed his slight surprise that his master would be allowing this. //vraiment?//

"Oui, dernier nuit."

Schanke watched them carefully. Somehow he knew Nick's side of the conversation that had passed in silence. His partner smiled at him now in a manner that aroused the beast within him. Whatever was happening was, for now, being allowed. Schanke was not sure what he wanted, only that the scant drops of Nick's blood, tasted as two orgasms thrummed through him, was an elixir he could live on for the rest of eternity. Was it just Nick? Or did orgasm change the blood somehow, add something to it? Shifting his eyes to LaCroix's, Schanke bent his head and tongued Nick's toes lightly, popping it into his mouth when LaCroix showed no outward signs of objection. He glanced at Nick as he pulled up slightly and parted his lips deliberately, letting his fangs drop.

Nick watched, keeping his mind wide open to LaCroix for any signs that the elder was disturbed by these events. But LaCroix was still simply amused by the curiosity of his grandchild, and although his hands and arms remained on and around Nicholas, he did not try to stop Schanke as the youngest bent his head once more and pushed his tight lips over Nick's big toe. A moment later, Nick felt a needle-sharp canine slip into him and his blood being sucked out. Schanke only wanted a taste, and Nick allowed it, sharing the sudden sensation with his master. When his partner pulled back, Nick locked his deep blue gaze with the red one. "What do you want to do?" His voice, deeper and rougher than usual, spoke to the vampire Schanke had so recently become, the curious, randy spirit of a fledgling.

He was answered in kind. "I want to taste you."

"You just have."

But Schanke shook his head. "After. I want to know the difference, I want more of what I took last night."

Nick threw a backward glance at his master, and saw the slight hardening of his expression. He knew LaCroix would never allow a full sexual encounter between he and Schanke, unless Nick insisted and it was not something he wanted particularly. But a little experimentation never hurt anyone, and Nick knew he could give Schanke what he wanted without upsetting LaCroix. Gracefully he sat up, swinging his legs off Schanke's and over the edge of the couch. LaCroix released Nick from his embrace, yet kept his hands on his son's body, reading the thoughts and ideas that were flowing between them. He was both comforted and excited by the fact that Nick was doing only what his father felt comfortable with, and he knew that the moment he asked Nicholas to stop, he would stop.

Nick felt his father's smile as he himself reached for Schanke. //Je t'aime, mon coeur//

//Je t'aime Nichola//

Nick ran light fingertips down Schanke's forearm as his partner leaned into him. "Nick...?"

"Trust me. Just go with it."

Nick felt LaCroix's hand run down the length of his back as he met Schanke's mouth with his own, coaxing a hesitant kiss from his partner. Allowing his fangs to drop slowly, Nick scraped one sharp tooth across his own bottom lip, allowing the other to taste him. The change in Schanke was swift and violent. He deepened the kiss, thrusting his tongue into his partner's mouth, at the same time bringing one hand up to Nick's shoulder; thought slipped from his mind as the bloodlust sharpened.

LaCroix leaned forward, sitting with his front flush to his son's back. Brushing Nicholas' hair away from his neck, he ran the tip of his tongue down the side of his son's cool neck. Schanke's fingers traced their way across Nick's shoulder to his throat, running down lightly over his windpipe, the light touch eliciting a gentle moan from Nicholas.

Maintaining the mental contact with his son, LaCroix knelt up behind him, moving his powerful hands up the silk-clad arms that were holding the third vampire in place. Dipping his fingers down until they touched his child's chilled skin, the elder hooked the open sides of Nick's shirt and pulled them up and back from his shoulders, dropping it to rest a little way down his arms, revealing his broad shoulders and smooth chest.

Schanke suddenly found his partner's body accessible to his roaming hands. He found his courage increasing each moment he was allowed to investigate. Nick's skin, although cool, was like satin to the touch, the tiny hairs tickled Schanke's sensitized fingertips. Following his instincts, Schanke ended the kiss and started down the column of Nick's neck. From the back, LaCroix nipped his way over his son's shoulders, his hands holding his upper arms, preventing him from doing anything but enjoy the duel exploration of his body. LaCroix shivered as Nick's head came back and he moaned softly. "Mon fils...."

At the whisper of his father's voice, Nick turned his head, his lips finding LaCroix's as Schanke pushed him back against the elder in his need to know better the body being offered to him. As Schanke's lips released a second hard nipple to return to Nick's inviting mouth, LaCroix resumed his gentle scraping of his son's back, pushing the silk shirt down further to reveal more of the intoxicating flesh.

Nicholas could barely think as the expert ministrations of his father behind him and the adventurous explorations of his partner in front started to overwhelm him. He had not expected LaCroix to allow Schanke this much, let alone to join in, and the realisation of where this was going aroused him even more, causing his hardening erection to become almost painfully trapped in his loose trousers. Schanke's wandering hands stroked his chest, roaming lower until his wrist abruptly brushed over Nick's straining cock. Nick groaned into Schanke's mouth as his partner hesitated at the utter maleness of the evident erection.

Nick felt Schanke's sudden nervousness and deepened their kiss, bringing him easily back into the moment as he felt LaCroix's hands moving over his lower back and forward, grasping his hips momentarily before coming around to unfasten the constraining trousers. Nick felt his father gently touching his mind as long fingers wrapped themselves around his freed cock. The sudden pressure forced a growl from his throat. He answered LaCroix's mental touch with a suggestion of his own. The moment the thought was transferred to his father, LaCroix started to truly burn for his son. Reaching between them, LaCroix unbelted his robe, allowing the expensive material to fall open before shifting closer to Nick's back, lifting his child slightly until his own hardening cock was nestled between Nicholas's tight buttocks. Nick moaned again, pulling back from Schanke's kiss to meet his sire in a tongue-tangling collision of lips and fangs.

Schanke sat back for a moment, watching the two older vampires kiss each other with the wild abandon that seemed to be natural between them. His breathing was rapid, more from habit than need, and he felt unashamedly hard. He placed his palms flat on his partner's thighs and pulled one leg up, forcing Nick to bend his knee up onto the seat, giving better access to his cock. Leaning on his palms, Schanke tilted his head to kiss Nick's exposed throat.

Gathering his wits for a moment, Nick reached forward and maneuvered Schanke's legs as his partner had done for him. Then he stretched his own right leg around Schanke, using his innate strength to pull Schanke close to him, before reaching down to unfasten his trousers and release his rampant, almost desperate erection. Schanke gasped as his cock was taken into his partner's skilled hands, and when Nick started to grip and release him, pumping in a slow, building rhythm, the last of his mortal hang-ups left him and he reached down, his fingers meeting LaCroix's on Nick's cock.

Nick cried out when another pressure was applied to his erection, dropping his head back and opening his eyes to stare into the golden gaze of his father. LaCroix's mind was erupting with pleasure and arousal, wiped clean of any jealousies or rights of possession as his son's movements applied exquisite pressure to his aching cock. Nick smiled, resuming his passionate kiss with LaCroix, bringing one hand up from Schanke's cock to wrap it around his head, holding him in place where his mouth was exploring his partner's neck. Nick broke the kiss once more to twist into Schanke's wet caresses and hiss "bite" into his ear. The moment he dove back into LaCroix's mouth, Schanke's fangs penetrated his throat. Nick screamed in orgasm, spurting over the joined hands masturbating him with male skill. Twisting his head he unwittingly ripped the opening in his throat on Schanke's fangs to enable his own bite into LaCroix's throat as he pushed his orgasm through their link causing LaCroix to thrust up once between his buttocks before coming hard against him. The third bite, LaCroix's fangs sinking into Schanke's wrist, triggered a circle of orgasm starting in Schanke's cock, flowing into Nick and through him to LaCroix.

The three spasamed together for an age, drinking from and providing for one another. Schanke felt that he could drown in the honey blood of his partner, tasting too much to translate, but being hit hard by the strength of Nick's love and desire for LaCroix. Nicholas exalted in the state of bliss he was drinking down from his father, sending his response that LaCroix would usually read automatically in his blood through their bond. LaCroix, being drunk from by his beloved son, drinking from his grandson and tasting Nicholas there, still received the connection thankfully.

LaCroix pulled out first, quickly followed by Nicholas, who licked his father's wounds for a moment until they healed. Very gently, LaCroix reached around and pulled Schanke from Nick's throat with no resistance. Schanke sat back, his breathing slowing, his eyes returning quickly to their usual colouring. When he looked up at LaCroix, the elder's expression was calm and reassuring. He met Nick's sky blue gaze to see his partner smiling at him.

LaCroix shifted back into the corner of the couch, pulling Nicholas into his arms, and as he went, Nick pulled Schanke down to rest upon him, sliding an arm around the younger vampire's back as he settled down in a way he never had before. //Mon coeur, mon desir//

//Je t'aime mon pere, toujours et pour eternite//

//Nichola//

Nicholas settled back further, trying to mould himself to the shape of LaCroix's body. He dropped his head back against LaCroix's shoulder, feeling Schanke move against him. His partner's head rose from where he had rested against Nick's hip. Nick brushed his hand softly against his partner's cheek, smiling with open affection. "You okay?"

Schanke nodded. Okay did not seem to touch the surface of what he was feeling. Honoured, treasured, loved, and above all more sated and contented than he could ever remember feeling. "There aren't words," he told them finally.

LaCroix nodded once, pleased with his grandson. "There are more pleasures in this new life than you will ever be able to count, Don. Ensure you sample them all before making any decisions." Satisfied with his own strange statement, LaCroix rested his face against his son's hair and closed his eyes. "We have much to do tonight."

"In a little while, Lucien." Nick murmured softly, letting his own eyes close, loving the warmth of his father supporting and holding him, and the weight of his partner resting easily on his legs and abdomen. He just wanted to enjoy this closeness a while longer. After all, did they not have all the time in the world? He heard LaCroix's gentle amusement in his mind.

//Now you start to listen to me!//

***

Chapter Three - Return To The City

What had once been a Ford was now nothing but a lump of twisted metal, a burnt out shell that represented Attraidies' art. The dark vampire stood back and admired his handiwork - this was definitely his greatest success to date. They would find only scarce evidence that there had been a human in the car at all, but a helpful witness or two would give them the information they needed and Detective Nick Knight would be handed his late partner's charred badge that police investigators would find in the glove compartment of the wrecked car. Detective Donald Schanke of Toronto Metro Homicide was investigating undercover when a car chase ended in disaster. He lost control at high speed and went over the side of the road, taking to the air and crashing into a naked gas main, ripping the fuel tank and causing the car to explode. Detective Schanke would have been killed instantly.

"Nice work." 

Attraidies did not take his eyes from the wreckage he had created. He ignored the slight amusement in the low tones that spoke to him. "It's a masterpiece." 

"I would expect nothing less for the price you charge, Robert."

The other vampire bristled at the use of his real name. "Nicholas can afford it."

"Yes." LaCroix smiled tightly, and with one last glance at his newly-born grandson's faked demise, he leapt into the air.

***

From the balcony of the loft, dressed in silk black pajamas, Nick watched Schanke sleeping on the couch. His new nephew was lying on his back, hands composed on his chest, smile of some sly peace on his face.

"Does it feel odd, sharing your apartment with someone else?"

Nick smiled and leaned back into the red-silk clad arms that surrounded his waist. "Aside from your increasingly frequent visits, you mean?"

LaCroix leaned in, softly kissing the side of his son's neck. "I will leave you alone whenever you ask me to."

Nick turned slightly and grinned. "Oh, *now* you'll leave me alone?"

"Maybe." LaCroix's fingers slipped into the silk collar and pulled it across slightly, revealing the satin skin of his lover's shoulder line. With a cool tongue, he licked his way over Nick's collarbone, nipping and kissing his route, murmuring French words of love and desire. "Do you want me to?"

Nick dropped his head back against LaCroix's shoulder, closing his eyes. "Do I want you to do what?"

"To leave you alone?"

With a careful movement Nick pushed back against the hardening in his father's groin. "What do you think?"

"I..."

"I think you guys should use a bed more often." Both vampires looked up and then down to the floor below. Schanke was grinning up at them from where he leaned over the back of the couch. Nick felt LaCroix's sharp breath before he relaxed. He took his father's hand in his own and brought it to his lips, placing wet kisses across the pale flesh. LaCroix nipped Nicholas' ear and lapped at the single drop of blood released before he caged the beast with an unmerciful strength.

"I think someone should pay Aristotle a visit."

***

"Nicholas!" Aristotle looked up from the web page that filled all twenty-two inches of his computer screen. "Leaving so soon?" There was an old sympathy in his voice, and in his eyes, when he looked at Nicholas, and it made Nick smile; Aristotle had moved him a hurry many times before as he had continued to run from his father. "LaCroix came into town over two years ago. I actually expected you to come to me before now."

Still on the bottom step, Nick smiled at his old friend and shook his head. "Not this time, Aristotle." A moment's pause, and he extended his arm out to his left, back up the walled stone staircase leading out of the cellar office. Aristotle frowned as, with his arm still extended as if leading or beckoning something down the stairs, Nick took the last step down. Only then did the grinning blond vampire look back, smiling as his companion, hand held tightly in that of his son, joined Nick in Aristotle's line of sight.

"Nick... are you okay?" The older, wiser immortal stood slowly in LaCroix's presence, ready to help his friend rid himself of his cruel master once and for all, if that was the only way.

"I'm fine, honestly. I just wanted you to know that we've finally managed to work things out."

Aristotle was about to question Nick's obvious happiness wen he heard more, heavier footsteps on the stone. "More?"

"The reason for our being here, actually."

Schanke stopped as he reached the base of the stairs, and gazed about. Nick indicated the surprised and confused Aristotle. "Schank, Aristotle. The magician among us. Aristotle, Donald Schanke. My ex-partner, now nephew."

It took the bearded vampire a few moments to realize what was happening. "Who made him?"

"Constantine." LaCroix stated clearly. Aristotle rolled his eyes.

"And whose bright idea was it to bring the head of Toronto's most influential Mafia family over?" The question was out before he had time to think; Nick grimaced and LaCroix scowled. Aristotle extended his hand. "Good to meet you, Schanke. And where exactly did you have in mind for your relocation?"

"England." Schanke stated smugly.

"Oxford," Nick added quickly, smiling reassurance at his partner and ignoring his master's sharp glance. "In fact, I know somewhere I believe is for sale."

"You mean Aston Court!" Aristotle's fingers flew over the keyboard, all thoughts of web surfing forgotten as he saw his approaching commission in his mind's eye. "D'Vries' old place. Yes, that is for sale at the moment."

Nick caught LaCroix's surprised smile and answered with a mischievous one of his own. And then he turned his eyes to Schanke whose own gaze had filled with the image on the computer screen. "That?! I'm going to live there?!"

"Call it... a belated birthday present."

Schanke turned to stare at Nick as if he had gone insane. "A birthday present? Oh, no Nick, you can't."

"I can, believe me. Besides, Lucien and I have some... fond memories of that house. It'll be good to return there for a while."

Schanke nodded, no longer surprised by the altruistic nor the romantic side of his partner's true nature. He looked back at the screen, smiling wistfully. "Myra would love it."

***

Nick pulled the Caddy up against the curb and looked up through the windshield at the Schanke house. His partner's "funeral" was tomorrow morning, and he knew he had to see Myra, to say something, to offer some comfort and give her some explanation about why he would not be there to say goodbye to Schanke in person. Steeling himself for what was to come, Nick opened the door of his car and stepped out into the pouring rain.

He had worried that the emotions he was supposed to be feeling at the loss of his partner would not come to him during this meeting. The precinct had been easy. Everyone believed he was putting on a brave face, and Cohen had agreed that his taking the accumulated vacation time owed to him was for the best. But meeting Myra Schanke face-to-face, having to speak to her honestly and lie to her as best he could, he imagined was going to be more difficult. It only took one glance at her face, as he rounded the corner into the lounge, to prove to him that he had been wrong.

Her mother answered the door, and Nick found himself thanking God quietly for family, even if his own was out of the Lord's jurisdiction. He introduced himself and was lead down the hall. Framed photographs of the family hanging on every wall he looked at. He viciously stamped on the guilt that flared up suddenly, but not unexpectedly. Myra rose from the sofa to greet him as he entered the lounge and his eyes almost filled at the sight of her. "Nick...."

He took her offered hands and was drawn into a solid, tight hug borne of shared grief. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," she released him, motioning for him to sit down by her. "Would you like a drink of anything?"

"No, I'm fine, thank you." He looked at her for a long time, and she looked at him.

"Did he suffer, Nick? In that car...?"

He shook his head. "No. They say he would have... died on impact. It was very fast. He wouldn't even have known what was happening."

Myra nodded. Her life had been shattered yet still she held herself in a dignified manner, proud of her husband and supportive of her daughter. Nick guessed that only at night, only as she lay alone knowing that the next morning, and every morning for the rest of her life, the door would not open and her Don would not join his family for breakfast, only then would the facade slip.

"It's a little easier, I suppose," she started, as if reading his thoughts, "that he was hardly ever with me at nights." Nick felt a stab of guilt. "Mornings are the most difficult; trying to find a reason to get up and to face life." She paused, "You know, it's true what they say, that the world keeps turning and life keeps going no matter what happens to us. If it wasn't for my having Jenny...."

Nick reached out and gently took her hand in both of his. "How is she?"

"She... she understands perfectly. She knows why all these people are here, and that she won't ever see her father again." Myra looked up from their joined hands, and surprised Nick by smiling. "We will be all right, Nick."

For a short while they simply sat, Nick feeling more comfortable than he had believed he would. "How about you? How are you coping?"

Nick thought for a moment. "He was the best partner I could have ever wished for. I don't know what I'll do. I'm going away for a while." Myra nodded, as if she completely understood what he needed. "And... I won't be able to get to the funeral. I would dearly love to but...."
Myra's squeeze of his hand stopped him. "I understand completely. Don explained to me all about your allergy and the seriousness of its effects. He would understand too, I know he would." Nick nodded his thanks. "I don't know if we'll remain in the city much longer." She looked around. "Too many memories. Don always wanted to go to England." She met Nick's smile with another of her own. "Maybe we'll live that dream for him."

Nick could not be frightened by that thought... the romantic within him hoped they would meet again one day, the vampire within him knew Schanke could look after and control himself. The world was a big place sometimes. "He always talked about you," he said quietly. "We'd be driving to a crime scene, or staking out some house somewhere, or just sitting at the precinct.... He would tell me all about Jenny, about you and your interests. He was always hassling the Captain about vacation time. He was always hassling me about working nights...."

Nick trailed off, what could he say? I'm sorry that I'm a vampire and your husband ended up with me for a partner? I'm sorry I burn and smoke the moment I step out into the sunlight? I'm sorry I was away with my 1800 year-old lover when Don was bitten by one of my father's creations and taken from you forever.....

"You mustn't blame yourself for anything, Nick." Myra was there, smiling at him again, dabbing at her eyes as her mask slipped for just a moment. "Don loved working with you, he admired you. He was proud to be your partner and your friend. Just remember him for me, don't ever forget. That would be the legacy he would have wanted."

As Nick left the house and walked slowly to his car, he was surprised to feel his father waiting for him a little way from the Caddy. "LaCroix? Is everything all right?"

"Yes." The elder stepped toward his son. "I just... I wanted to make sure that you were all right. That can't have been easy, even I understand that."

Nick smiled, taking his father's offered hands in his own. "I had to it, I owed it to Schanke and to Myra."

"I know." LaCroix indicated the car. "Could we go somewhere quiet, just for a few minutes?"

"Of course."

Nick pulled up by the lake, switching off the engine and turning to his father. "What's wrong?"

"I was thinking, while you were with Mrs. Schanke, about death, about my ... many threats to your life over the years."

"Lucien, that's in the past, we agreed that."

LaCroix nodded. "I know, but some memories are fresher than others."

//
LaCroix left the Azure restaurant furious and upset. He knew his son had been lying. Nicholas would not have bought Dr. Lambert across whether he loved her or not. But it had been a way of getting out of a situation, he himself had instigated, without losing face. He had not been lying about Fleur. Fleur had been the absolute light in his life for a long, long time. Yet he had long since understood Nicholas' desperate need to keep her mortal, and he had discovered her purity, innocence and beauty was also present in her brother. As the years had passed, he had begun to love Nicholas as he had his sister.

And so the reason for his wrenching sobs, as the elder took to the sky, was not that he had been denied his revenge but that he had once again threatened to kill his son for the sake of hurting some meaningless mortal. He had driven Nicholas further from him this night. Oh, his intention had been to try to ease the pain he sought within himself now and again, convincing himself that he not feel for Nicholas the aching he had long felt for his sister. He had purposely invited Dr. Lambert to dinner in order to take her from his son. But when Nicholas had appeared, had started to confuse the issues, LaCroix had found himself drowning in a situation that had quickly flared out of control. He and Nicholas had stood making threats and promises neither wanted nor meant. And the look on his son's face when he had taken the stake... oh gods, why was Nicholas still the only one with the ability to break open his cold stone heart with a single expression?

LaCroix landed at the doorway of his townhouse and slipped the key into the lock, his hand on the cold handle. He pushed the door open and stopped dead in his tracks, turning quickly, suspicious of the sudden arrived of his son. Nicholas was standing on the bottom of the three stone steps that lead up to the door, his hands pushed deep into the pockets of his long thick coat, his expression actually one that drew more tears from the elder vampire; he looked hurt, stung deep by something unexpected.

"LaCroix."

"Nicholas." LaCroix let the door swing open, turning fully to face his child. "What do you want?"

The suspicion and slight fear in his master's usually smooth, caressing voice confused Nick, but did not help his current state. "What do I want?! After the stunt you just pulled, after what you just did?"

"The matter is closed, Nicholas," LaCroix turned away and stepped inside. "Count yourself lucky that your friend is still alive."

"Wait!" Nick flew up the three steps and placed his hand on the outside of the door. In the hall light, his features were clearer, and the pain in his eyes stopped LaCroix from closing the door in his face.

"If you have something to say, Nicholas, say it and go."

"Why are you doing this? How could you threaten to end my life for a mortal? Do I truly not mean anything to you any longer?"

LaCroix stared at him. "Nicholas... you mean more to me than anything in this eternal life. To me, you are your sister and so much more. I love you so much that it scares me. But to tell you these things would be too difficult, and so I threaten you, I yell at you, I drive you away because that is easier for both of us."

The pain in Nick's eyes faded, and for a moment he was silent. When he spoke, his voice was a gentle whisper to cover his surprise "If that is so, could we not find another way to live? Please." LaCroix gazed at him, confused, as he slowly leaned forward to brush his lips over his father's. "Happy Valentines Day, Lucien."
//

Nick stroked his hand down LaCroix's face and leaned in, meeting his master over the gear shift in a deep, passionate kiss of love, comfort and reassertion of the life that they had. "We are forever," Nick whispered against his father's lips. "Promise me."

"I promise you, Nicholas. Avec mon ceour."

***

Schanke was channel surfing when Nick arrived home. LaCroix had taken his leave at the lake to make arrangements for their travel, and to find someone to cover at CERK while he was away. Nick knew that Janette was not going to be pleased with their decision, but she had left them enough times in the past; she could survive without them for a time.

The television was switched off the moment Nick stepped foot into the loft, and Schanke was over by him, the questioning, desperate look in his eyes enough to make Nick wish that this night would end soon. "How is she?"

Gently, Nick lead his partner to the couch, sitting them both down. "She's okay. She's holding up, I think for Jenny more than anything." He let his own pain and sympathy shine bright in his deep blue eyes. "I told her that you talked about her every night, all the time." A blood-tinged tear ran over Schanke's cheek. "She will be fine, Schank. She will never want for anything, I promise you."

Schanke nodded. "Except her husband."

There was no answer to that.

"Does it get easier?" Schanke asked after a long silence. "Leaving, I mean?"

"It depends on the incarnation. When you start to care about people and you have to leave them, it is difficult. But I suppose it does get easier because you learn to distance yourself from those you know you will one day have to leave behind. As for our own kind, whether you're traveling together or apart, paths always cross again. It's just the way it works."

"And will you go on looking for your... mortality?"

Nick shook his head. "I couldn't bare to leave LaCroix behind now. There are immortals that I care about, as well as mortals. I can still atone for what I see as my sins, and remain what I am, what I have been for almost 800 years. There's a quote - "when you've lived as long as I have, you kinda get used to it". That's how it is for me now."

Schanke hesitated, but he finally reached out and squeezed his friend's arm, leaving his hand there. "At least you'll always be around, somewhere."

Nick smiled. "It'll be a long time before I'm very far from you, Schank." They left the meaning hanging, just being together, knowing each other, feeling like they had a couple of years to catch up on; years they had not known each other at all.

***

Nick leaned on the hood of the Cadillac, gazing over the car to his father standing in the garage door, arms crossed. "What, Nicholas?"

"LaCroix, I love this car."

"What could possibly happen to it?" The elder could not grasp the reason for his son's concern, but they had been standing like this for an hour. "It is perfectly safe here."

Nick shook his head. "LaCroix, you know how Gloria feels about me. She could drive it to the centre of the city and leave it to thugs, or ... or ditch it in the lake, or ..."

"Nicholas! She won't do anything of the sort. She may not like you but she knows the consequences of antagonizing me. Your precious car will be here when you return." Nick frowned, he knew LaCroix was right but walking away from the Caddy was difficult. "What can I do to convince you?" Nick rolled his eyes from his car to his father. "I give you my word, Nicholas. You know that's an unbreakable bond."

Nick hesitated, but finally he nodded. "All right. But if anything happens to her, you buy me a new one. Deal?"

LaCroix lifted his gaze heavenward for a moment before nodding. "It's like doing a deal with the devil," he muttered, but his eyes held a warmth when he looked back at his son. "Of course, Nicholas. It is a deal."

After thanking the female elder, the two vampires started down the driveway. "Why do you require an automobile anyway, Nicholas?"

"Pretense, LaCroix. Not that you'd understand the meaning of the word."

Gloria closed the garage doors and watched as the two vampires took to the air, still ribbing each other, the flight not silencing them for a moment, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. After almost a thousand years she could not get used to the idea of flying. Cars were the greatest invention, and despite Nicholas de Brabant's questionable taste in living, he had exquisite taste in vehicles. Still, it would not hurt to wait until they were out of the country before taking the Caddy for a test drive.

***

A brief goodbye hug from Natalie marked the end of Schanke's time in Toronto, at least for this incarnation. Nick walked her to the door and stole a hug of his own. "Take care of him, Nick. And take care of yourself, okay?"

"I promise."

"If you decide not to come back...."

"I won't leave without saying goodbye."

Nat nodded, and with one lingering look she closed the door between them.

Schanke watched as the two said goodbye. It was good just to have Nick around - he had survived living like this, place to place, life to life, for eight hundred years - he was a true source of inspiration as far as his ex-partner was concerned. He had no idea what he was going to do once he reached England. There was a lot more to learn, but he knew LaCroix would teach him everything he needed to know about his new existence. He looked up as Nick crossed the loft to stand with him at the window. "This all feels so final."

"I know. But try to think of it more as a new start, the beginning of a long and varied adventure." Nick smiled one of his patented 'nothing's as bad as it seems' smiles. "And you won't ever be alone unless it's what you want."

"You know, I never figured on making it to retirement. I always pegged myself as a victim of some gun-toting punk when I was older. I never imagined that this was what fate had in mind for me."

"I'm not sure fate ever has this in mind for anyone. Vampires tend to fight fate quite fiercely."

Schanke threw himself down in Nick's over-stuffed arm chair, remembering other times he had been here, ignorant of what his partner was, even who his partner was. At least he would have time, plenty of time, to know Nick, and a great many others whose paths his own life would now cross. It was exciting in a way. Don Schanke' Big Adventure. He smiled to himself, and grinned at Nick as he made himself comfortable on the couch. As a stray memory entered his mind he looked up. "So, I guess you were at Woodstock...."

******

Schanke pressed the center button on the remote and watched with a bare hint of sadness as the sunrise disappeared behind the thick blinds. England was as beautiful as he had imagined it would be, he only wished Myra could see and experience everything with him. He held onto the thought that maybe one day, when Jenny was older, Myra might wish to join him.

He turned from the blackness to the candlelit lounge, smiling at the two vampires in the conservatory. "Drinks?"

His partner looked up from his lover. "Shall I?"

"No," Schanke shook his head with a genuine, contented grin, "how could I disturb you?" He continued through to the kitchen of his new Oxfordshire manor house. Few fledglings lived in such comfort, but few fledglings had the family connections he had.

The previous night while exploring the city, Nick had found a club that he had felt drawn to; The Crypt. Within the walls they had found a thriving vampire community, many of whom recognized LaCroix despite the fact that his last visit to England had been centuries ago. So Schanke would not be alone if his present companions decided to return to Toronto. He would be fine, and he was happy.

Nicholas de Brabant smiled luxuriously, moving against the man lounging behind him. Caressing the silk covered back pressed against him, LaCroix kissed his son's neck lazily.

"This reminds me of Washington, Nicholas." He murmured in amusement. "Do you remember Washington?"

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