Crossed Stars Don't Always Fall

"We're like Romeo and Juliet."

"What?" repeated Darien as he jerked his head up from his book to find Arana smiling sleepily at him from the other end of his couch where she'd been napping. He then frowned, flicking the heavily dog-eared pages in his fingers, and said, "No, we're not."

She laughed at that and sat up, sliding across the cushions to settle next to him. Her eyes flicked over the old and obviously very well read copy of the play in his hands then she pulled it away to set it down on his coffee table. "Yes," she said firmly, "we are."

Darien wrapped an arm around her waist, wondering exactly what point she was trying to make. "I'm not particularly fond of death, Rana. I would make a terrible Romeo."

She tossed her head back at that and let out a silvery laugh. Then she moved, settling herself in his lap and kissed him as she murmured, "I don't mean that bit, O'Connell. Honestly, taking that part of the relationship to mark our own would be something a love-struck teenager would do."

Arana grounded her hips downward into his then, making him groan and grasp at her thighs. "And I'm not a teenager, now am I?" she purred huskily.

"I could swear you're randy like one," growled Darien back a few moments later when he was able to think clearly again.

"You would know, Mister Stuck-At-Nineteen-Forever."

"Not my fault."

She snorted then smiled as she said, "I'd make a terrible Juliet myself so we're even. I mean, seriously, me doing things like she does?"

Darien laughed at that and nodded. "Agreed, Miss Folwns. I could never imagine you as a love-struck teenager." He then leaned forward to peck her lips in a quick kiss as his hands began to slide upwards underneath her shirt. "Obviously you're a sex fiend."

"That's your fault."

He grunted then began tracing an idle circle over her hip bone with his right hand. "So what did you mean? I've read that play several times and I'm not following how we're like Romeo and Juliet."

Arana rolled her eyes, giving him that look she had when he was being particularly stupid. Sighing, she wound her arms around his neck and leaned forward, her breasts pressing into his chest as she kissed him. "The star-crossed bit, idiot," she grumbled with a shake of her head. "Honestly, you own copies of Shakespeare older than the both of us combined and you couldn't get that? You really do have a teenage mind."

"I resent that," grumbled Darien. He then frowned and asked, "So if we're star-crossed, does that mean this is going to end badly?"

"Not every one of them does."

"No, just most."

She hummed at that and slid both hands underneath his shirt to rake her fingernails lightly across his chest. As he growled and tugged her closer, she firmly stated, "And who said we had to follow their example?"

"You started this star-crossed thing, Rana," Darien breathed as he leaned forward to kiss her.

When they came up for breath, Arana answered him with, "I was just going off the fact that I'm three centuries younger than you, Dari. Surely that counts."

"Given the time gap and that this isn't just some fling of a relationship, yeah, I'd agreed. Let's just remember to skip the dying part."

"Duly noted," she purred as she leaned in close again and he forgot all about crossed stars, plays, or dying in favor of the woman in his arms.

Questions Asked in the Night

Strangely, out of the two of them, she was the one that stayed up late and watched him sleep. Arana had always thought only guys that did that – then again none of her exes had done it but they were all bastards anyway.

Maybe it was because Darien was so much older than her. No, thinking again that couldn't be it. He had openly admitted that their relationship was the second real one he'd ever had; all of the others didn't count because of his state of mind at the time and the only other that did was long dead.

Perhaps it was her own worry about them that kept her awake some nights watching him sleep next to her. Worry for what would become of them: would he watch her die or beg her – plead with her – to become like him. Honestly Arana wasn't sure how she would answer if he asked.

Turning her head, she looked down at Darien as he lay on his side next to her, one arm stretched out to curl around her waist and his face buried into his pillow. With his bangs falling messily across his closed eyes and the overly hawkish nose he had never been able to grow into silhouetted by the white pillowcase, he looked all too much like a child.

Arana always felt like a cradle robber at times like these when she remember how young he looked. Beside her Darien shifted closer and her cream colored sheet slid down to his waist, revealing skin and lean muscles that only heightened her realizations.

He was far too lean, muscles almost hidden underneath his skin, waist and shoulders too narrow, facial features never fully filled out. Oh, he looked like a twenty-something now to the unaware but she knew that he'd been Turned at nineteen. Those features always gave his youth away to those that knew.

The one that hurt Arana the most were the shoulders. She loved them but then she would remember her brothers and how their shoulders had gotten so broad as they grew older. Then she would look at Darien again and wonder what he would look like if he'd been allowed to grow older than nineteen. He wasn't that much taller than her but she could see the potential in him to have been a fearsomely built man.

Everett, his sire, had taken that opportunity away from him though. Just thinking about it made Arana want to weep sometimes for the Darien that could have been.

Then she wondered what would have happened to her if he hadn't been Turned. She hadn't been on her way to having a happy life before the case involving him had fallen into her lap. And while it wasn't a safe life...she was happy.

Though Arana wondered sometimes if he was happy. Not about being with her, oh no, she knew he loved her all too well. What she wondered about was if he would rather never have been a vampire – no, that wasn't right, she knew he wanted that but he had long ago resolved himself to being unable to have that. No, she wondered if he would rather have that girl from before, Kay of the red hair, of whom he named his dog for, whose name he still sometimes called out in his sleep during a nightmare.

All too suddenly the need to talk to Darien rose up within Arana and she twisted slightly to begin shaking him. “Darien,” she hissed loudly but he only burrowed closer to her, mumbling in his sleep. She shook him harder then, digging her nails into skin that was still warm from the blood he'd drank during dinner, and he finally stirred.

“Whassit?” he mumbled sleepily as he lifted his head, green eyes still lidded so they appeared black in the darkness of her bedroom.

Arana bit her lip, suddenly feeling silly that she'd woken him, then gathered her courage. “Do you regret it?” she blurted out too fast, her voice shaking. He frowned and opened his mouth but never got a chance to speak as she suddenly snapped, “Nevermind. Forget it,” in a sudden fit of not wanting to know his answer. Rolling away from him, she burrowed under the blankets and wished that he'd just go back to sleep.

She knew him better than that though.

Darien scooted across the bed, spooning his body behind hers, and laid his arm across her waist with warm fingers sliding underneath her worn shirt to splay across her belly. Then he brushed back her hair with his other hand and Arana shivered as he kissed the back of her neck.

“Rana,” he said softly in a voice still rough with sleep and more flavored with his native brogue because of it, “talk to me.”

“It was stupid,” she muttered into her pillow, wishing he'd let it be at that.

Darien grunted in the tone that said he didn't believe her and sighed against the back of her neck. He then moved slightly, the tip of his nose nuzzling her ear, and rumbled, “Gr á mo chro í , I can smell your worries.”

That brought a snort out of Arana and she growled, “No you can't.” He'd told her some time ago that emotions didn't change a scent, they merely heightened or lowered it.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating through her where his chest met her back. Then he said, “True. I think I know you well enough now though, Rana, to know when something's wrong.” Darien shifted behind her then, pushing himself up on his elbow, and turned her face to look at him. She couldn't help the tears that welled in her eyes as all of the earlier thoughts came rushing back as the shadows playing across his face made him look so young and he frowned. “Rana, grá mo chro í , talk to me. Do I regret what?”

"Everything,” she answered as his fingers splayed across her cheek, skin so warm against her own. Arana's eyes were blinded by the tears and she couldn't see him anymore but that didn't help any. She knew every feature of his face all too well because it never changed.

Rough fingertips gently wiped at the edge of her eyes then Darien's lips pressed against her own. “Us?” he questioned against her skin, his breath warm and smelling (thankfully) more of their steak dinner than blood. When she nodded slightly, he answered. “Originally I regretted pulling you into my world but never being with you.” He kissed her again as he paused to wipe more of her tears away. “I don't know what I would do without you. What else?”

Arana opened her eyes then and breathed out, before she lost her courage, “Would you have chosen this life?”

He pulled back at that, eyes wide in shock, and she wanted to take the question back. Then Darien's fingers were curling in her hair and he said, “If it meant meeting you, yes, I'd like to think I would have.”

"Even if it meant leaving Kay behind?” she asked. “Of watching her die?”

“ Grá mo chro í ,” he murmured lovingly though there was an old ache in his voice, “I realized a long time ago that Kay and I never would have lasted. Not with the quarrel between her father and mine. She was...she was nothing more than my high school sweetheart.”

Arana frowned at that, wrinkling her nose. “Some guys actually marry their high school sweethearts.”

That brought a laugh from Darien and he nodded in agreement. “Yes,” he said, “and I might have. But I've lived long enough and looked back on my life to see that it wouldn't have been a very happy marriage.”

"How are we any different?” she asked, feeling tears coming on again. “How are we -” The words choked off in Arana's throat and she shuddered before twisting around on the bed to bury her face against Darien's chest. Both of his arms wrapped around her, drawing her to him with a strength that belied his slight build, and she finally managed to finish. “Are we going to have such a happy life?”

"Don't we already?” he asked, voice rumbling through her as he rested his chin atop her head.

Arana frowned then whispered, “I'm going to die one day, Darien.”

That silenced him for a long moment then he pulled away from her, fingers groping for her chin. As he tilted her head upward so their eyes met, she saw that he had an almost frightened look on his face.

"Arana,” he said slowly, his use of her full name showing how serious he was, “I never want to push that on you. Gods, I want to spend the next centuries with you by my side and show you the world and it hurts to think that I might not.” Darien then leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes tight. “I don't want to force you to make that choice though. If you decide that, I want it to be your choice, because you don't want to leave me, not the other way around.”

His fingertips stroked roughly across her face and then his brogue thickened almost to where she couldn't understand him as he continued, “I never want what happened to me to happen to you. You will chose, grá mo chro í . Not me, not Everett, not anyone. But. You. ”

"Oh, Darie,” she breathed and burrowed into his arms, suddenly wanting nothing more than to be held there. He obliged all too willingly, holding her almost painfully close with his strength, and Arana began, “I -”

"Gods, don't give me your answer now,” he hissed, shivering against her. “Just...just know whatever you decide, I'll accept it.”

Arana nodded but she knew that if she did decide to make that leap into the unknown, to truly step into his world, she had to do it soon. She was in her middle thirties now and waiting too much longer would only widen the gap between them. Darien didn't consider himself to be young since he had seen three centuries pass but she knew how youthful he looked. Her growing too much older before she – if, if – she agreed to be Turned would only widen the gap between them. Not that appearances mattered all that much between vampires and it was only a minor thing in itself.

It bothered her, though, that gap between them.

"Okay,” she finally muttered into his collar bone and he suddenly relaxed, his whole body loosening up. They just lay there after that, doing nothing more than holding each other, until the morning sunlight started to peek into her windows and Darien buried his face into the pillows with a groan.

"It can't be morning yet,” he moaned with his voice slightly muffled. “Make it go away.”

Arana smiled at that and moved a hand to rest against the back of his neck, fingers playing with the fine wisps of hair there like she knew he liked. He leaned into the touch, purring like a cat, then flinched as sunlight hit his face and buried himself again.

"Foul wench,” hissed Darien as he pulled her close, using her to shield his sensitive eyes from the ever brightening sun. “You did that on purpose.”

"Can't prove it,” replied Arana with a smirk as she kissed him. He responded eagerly, growling into her mouth as his hands slid downward to her hips and jerked them across the few inches that separated their bodies. As his hands then began to make their way to the buttons of her shirt, she gasped out, “I have to be at work in two hours.”

Darien chuckled at that. “I'll have you to work, Rana, don't you worry.”

"Without any obvious bite marks?”

He kissed her again at the question then trailed a line down her throat before he ever so lightly raked his fangs across her pulse point, causing her heart rate the jump and her need for him to heighten. That was one thing Arana could never have predicted from their relationship: that she would like and even welcome the feel of his fangs against her skin. Darien only rarely ever actually bit her and it was never for long as he stated her being unable to reciprocate made it only half as fun.

Then he lightly kissed her pulse point and purred against her skin, “You know I'd never leave any obvious ones.”

"Oh no,” said Arana as she tilted her head back to allow him better access at her throat even as she wiggled out of her now unbuttoned shirt, “you only leave them just where I think they might show if I'm not too careful. And in places that make me blush when I feel them later.”

Darien smiled against her throat at that. “I do love making you blush.”

"Far too much.”

"Mmm, we can argue about that later,” said Darien as he rolled on top of her, fingers trailing down her sides until his hand found the curve of her hip. “If we don't hurry, I won't get you to work on time.”

Smiling at that, she worked to ignore the blinding fire burning in her for him and hooked a leg around the back of his knee. “I could go in early,” she mused, looking thoughtfully up at the ceiling. “I mean, I did have all of that paperwork I had to complete.”

"Paperwork!” he growled and shifted just so to draw a gasp from her. Then Darien smirked and bent his head to graze his fangs across her throat again. “Now you're just baiting me, grá mo chro í .”

Arana's need for him increased only further at the second sweep of his fangs and her hands found the back of his neck, drawing him down closer so she could breath heavily in his ear, “Shut up and make love to me, Dari.”

He just grinned at that, the motion obvious as his lips pressed against her throat, and she lost track of time amongst the rhythm of their bodies moving in time with each other. There was only the sensation of skin against skin, nails clawing for purchase, soft touch of lips everywhere, and the bittersweet pinprick of fangs drawing blood after that mixed with the light and growing warmth of the rising sun.

Arana woke atop Darien's chest, her head tucked underneath his chin and one arm wrapped around her. The other arm was thrown over his eyes as he dozed beneath her and she smiled before starting to shift to get out of bed only to discover their legs were tangled and his refused to move, only tightening when she moved hers. “That's cheating,” she said accusingly as she laid back down and tapped her fingers against his sternum.

He snorted lightly and lifted his arm just enough so she could see one green eye as he smiled. “I'm not above it,” he intoned in an honest voice. “Besides, you have almost another hour before you have to go anywhere. Stay.”

"I'd like breakfast before I go to work.”

"I'll get up and go cook in a minute. I just want to lay here for a moment.”

Arana frowned at that and asked, “Are you alright?”

Darien's smile went away at that and he let his arm fall to the bed as he tilted his head to look at her. “Shouldn't I be asking you that, Rana?” he said with an arched eyebrow. He then moved his arm, hand reaching out to cup her cheek as he frowned at her. “What we talked about...it's been bothering you for a while, hasn't it?”

She bit her lip involuntarily, not wanting to answer, but that was all that he needed. With a sigh, Darien untangled their legs and shifted, pushing himself into an upright position even as he pulled her closer. When Arana was settled between his legs, her back against his chest and his arms around her, he rested his chin on her shoulder and sighed.

"What?” she asked, feeling worried now.

"There's something you still haven't asked me,” he answered, “something that's still bothering you. Those things before, they've been bothering you for a while but now you've asked them and the need's lessened. I know the feeling, I've felt it before.”

How this man, this... vampire ...that she had come to love knew her so well after only a year mystified Arana. Darien did know her though but perhaps that was because she was little more than a child in his eyes. She knew him too but...not so well. Knew he loved her, oh yes. That he wanted her to say 'yes' when – if – he ever asked her to stay with him forever. He knew her past though, knew what drove her, what had shaped her.

She only had hints of the things that had shaped him. Oh, Arana knew who his sire was and she had met both of his bloodsiblings, Malloy and Kaeli, as well others of what he called his family. What she didn't know anything about really was his life before them except for his being born in Ireland and having loved Kay. The brogue was blatantly obvious when he got emotional or was still half asleep. Kay...he'd had a nightmare about her their first night together – actually together – and screamed her name. He hadn't been able to hide her after that.

Everything else was still a mystery though. And while she understood him wanting to hide the bloodstained part of his past from her (she'd dug that little tidbit out of Paul one night at Beoir Aite), she didn't understand the rest.

Frowning, Arana leaned back against him, noting that his temperature was cooler than it had been before absently in her mind. Tilting her head back, she nuzzled the line of his jaw then asked softly, “Do you hate her?”

Darien sat silently for a long moment, his arms around her and no sound but their own breathing. Then he said quietly, “Everett.”

"Yes,” she answered even though it hadn't been a question.

For a moment she didn't think he was going to answer then Darien sighed. “Once,” he began, “I did. I lost...I lost too much because of her: my life, my father, my brother, Kay. Because of what she did to me, maybe even because of how she did it, I spent a century as a monster.” He flinched then and his arms tightened around her. “I never wanted you to know about that.”

"I wheedled it out of Paul one night,” said Arana, causing him to jerk in surprise. “He didn't tell me much,” she added quickly to defend his addle-brained friend who hadn't known she was playing him until it was too late, “mostly just that you were someone to be feared. That you and Malloy painted too many cities to count red with blood.”

"And we laughed about it,” Darien spat in a disgusted voice. Shaking his head, he then said, “You asked about Everett though.”

"Yes.”

He nodded and was silent again. Then he said, “After...after I came to, back, whatever you want to call my awakening to what I was, I hated her. But in the decades after that I came to realize that she wasn't some monster like I'd been. She killed, yes, gods, she killed with the best of them and still does.” Darien bowed his head against Arana's shoulder then and she felt him breath against her skin, “But she loved the three of us, her children. Kaeli always argued with her and they had these great rows that made wherever we were staying shake...but Everett tore the heads off of two slayers right in front of me when they had her cornered without pausing.”

"Malloy,” he continued, “he was always getting us in trouble by taking girls and Everett screamed at him for it whenever it got us ran out of a city or town. When he was caught drunk on blood and alcohol by an angry mob looking to avenge three he'd taken, she dragged his ass out of the fire even though after she said she should have left him when he kept the girls anyway.”

He stopped talking then and Arana lifted a hand to his cheek. “What about you?” she asked quietly.

Darien shook then with what might have been a shudder or a contained sob before he answered, “She held my leash when I was...wild. Kept me from going too out of control or completely losing it and becoming a threat to be put down by Cyclaryn. She ordered Malloy to never leave my side and he obeyed – mostly because he liked the bloodshed.”

"When...when I attacked her later, after I had my awakening,” he continued slowly, “she didn't fight back. Not really. I know her, Rana, gods, I do know her and she could have killed any of us with a flick of her wrist. Even me and she's always said I'm the best of us. She's stronger than Malloy, smarter than Kaeli, and faster than me. My three centuries are nothing compared to her five millenia but she let me almost win when I attacked her.”

"She saved me then,” said Darien seriously, “by sparing my life when she could have taken it. And after Sweyln scarred me -” He paused as Arana touched the puckered flesh along the outside of his arm, made by the slayer blade his kin had wielded long ago. “- when Omcha and Cyclaryn came to see I was punished for attacking her, she defended me. I hated her saving my life then but...”

He trailed off and she pressed, “But?”

"That's when I realized she loved us like a mother. Like my mother loved me. Everett shielded all three of us, protected us, and by the gods, she would die for all three of us if it came down to a choice between her life and one of ours. We're the children she never had in life and if there is anything she takes seriously, that responsibility for us is it.”

Darien sighed heavily then before saying, “So, yes, once I did hate her. Now...now I understand her. I don't necessarily love her but I do care for her.” Turning his head, he smiled down at her as he added, “If she hadn't Turned me, I wouldn't be alive still to have met you, grá mo chro í .”

"That's true,” murmured Arana, a little awed by how much information he'd just revealed. Then she looked over at her alarm clock and said, “I have half an hour before work now. And someone promised me breakfast.”

That brought a laugh out of him that, while a little strained from the previous conversation, was real enough. “So I did,” said Darien, “so I did. Okay, you get yourself ready and I'll go make you breakfast. Pancakes?”

"Bacon,” answered Arana with a smile as his arms loosened and she scooted away from him to climb out of bed. “Eggs too. You can make pancakes for yourself if you really want.”

"But pancakes are no fun without a certain someone to share them and smear syrup across their cheek,” he said with a cheeky smile. Sliding off the bed, he caught her wrist and drew her to him for a quick kiss. “Only so as I can lick the syrup off later, of course.”

The purr of his voice started to kick up the fire inside her again but she quelled it and slid her fingers across his lips. “I'm going to be late if you keep that up,” she growled.

"And what, Rana, did you think my point was?”

Arana glared up at him then said, “You can cook pancakes tomorrow morning. I have the day off then.”

Darien grinned at that, the movement lighting up his entire face, and she saw again how painfully young he was. “Syrup?” he queried as he leaned closer to her.

"Dari, tomorrow you can do whatever you want with the syrup. Just get me breakfast now .”

"Mmm,” he purred as he leaned down to kiss her cheek, the sound rumbling against her skin distractingly. “You might regret that in the morning as I'm going to hold you to it.” Then he spun away from her, swept his boxers and shirt from the floor, and headed out of the room with them in hand. Before he passed the door frame, he looked back at her and winked, saying, “And you're so sexy when you order me around like that,” then disappearing.

Arana heard him whistling as he strode through the house and had the presence of mind to shout, “The kitchen blinds are open! Don't flash my neighbors! ”

"Even if they like what they see, they can't have it!” he bellowed back and she sighed in exasperation before heading for her closet. As she dressed for work, she felt...surprisingly lighter. She had finally asked Darien about things that had been bothering her and he'd answered her honestly. The only thing left was her own unease with their age differences and yet, somehow, even that was lessened.

By the time she entered the kitchen, the scent of meat and eggs cooking filled the air and Darien had both the blinds closed as well as his clothes on.

"Twenty minutes,” she intoned seriously as she perched on one of her bar stools and rested her elbows on the counter-top. His head bobbed in accordance with what she had said and then, still whistling softly, he presented her with a plate of steaming eggs and bacon a moment later.

"Done,” he purred as he stole a piece of bacon and kissed her cheek before he disappeared back to the bedroom to get himself dressed. Arana smiled after him then dug into the food quickly since it was a ten minute drive to get to the station and she was going to risk running late as it was. It was a shame to have to eat it so fast since Darien was an excellent cook (taught by three separate master chefs as he liked to brag) but she finished and slid from her seat.

"I'm leaving!” she shouted over her shoulder as she headed for the door. When she was suddenly jerked to a stop by arms around her, she hissed, “Dari, I'm going to be late .”

"Leave your car, grá mo chro í ,” he purred in her ear as he laid a bacon-scented kiss on her cheek. “I can carry you there faster and I know how you hate morning traffic.”

Arana squirmed in his arms and asked, “And how am I going to get home ?”

Darien chuckled as he answered, “Who said anything about you coming home? You promised me pancakes and syrup in the morning...you didn't say where we'd have to be.” He nuzzled past her collar and grazed one fang across the curve of her shoulder, making Arana shiver in his arms. “I'm going to take you home with me tonight and treat you like a queen. And, in the morning...”

He paused to spin her around and she met his goofy, cheerful grin with laughter and, “Pancakes?”

"Pancakes!” he exclaimed joyfully. As he scooped her up, hefting her in his arms, Darien asked, “Do you want to?” with a tiny petulant tone in his voice that begged not to be let down.

Arana couldn't say 'no' to him. Not when he was so cheerful.

"Yes,” she answered as she leaned down to peck a kiss against the tip of his nose. Then she swatted him across the shoulder and hissed, “Now get me to work. You've got fifteen minutes.”

Darien laughed at that and let her drop to the floor before steering her to the door. “Plenty of time,” he assured and as soon as she closed the door behind them, he swept her legs out from under her and Arana clutched at his neck as the rest of the world became a blur of colors and sounds. She buried her face against his chest, unable to stomach watching everything move around them so fast, and didn't let go until he said, “We're here.”

"No need to throw up, right?” asked Darien warily as he set her carefully on the ground, forcing Arana to recall the first time he'd carried her like that. Well, not the first time of carrying her, honestly, but the first time at his full speed. She'd spent the next hour throwing up after that trip and he'd apologized so often that she'd wanted to strangle him.

"I'm fine,” she assured as she pulled him down for a kiss. He responded willingly, fangs lightly grazing her lips as he drew away, and she saw his pupils were dilated. Hers probably were too and she drew in a deep breath to calm her racing emotions.

"Tonight,” he growled, hands possessively going to her waist, drawing her closer.

Arana nodded and laid her hands on his chest, keeping her from closing the last inches with him. She knew well enough if she did, they might just do things right there in the alley behind the station. “Tonight,” she promised. Then she smiled and added, “After all, you're my ride today.”

Darien's eyes twinkled at that and he said, “I could come up with so many naughty things to say to that but I'll save them for later.” Smiling, he bent his head to kiss her again, this time more calmly, and breathed, “I'll see you tonight, grá mo chro í .”

"You will. Now get going to do the shopping I know you're going to do for tonight.”

He laughed at that but left reluctantly, hands lingering on her waist as long as possible. Arana watched him go then let out a ragged breath as she fought down the renewed need their kiss had brought to life.

She was ridiculously in love with him.

Shaking her head, Arana headed into the station through the back door and moved towards her desk, ready to face the day. And when she saw she had something that would lead her around in Brooklyn near Beoir Aite she made a decision.

Today she'd go talk to Elizabeth for a few minutes, ask her about what it meant to be Turned, what she might need to know. Maybe even who the bartender might suggest to do it. She still wasn't sure if she'd go through with it...but she was closer to a decision than she had been when she'd been awake watching Darien sleep. If she was going to do it, she needed to know these things.

Like he'd said, it was her choice.

And if Arana was going to chose anyone to be with for centuries, it was Darien.

Oh the Things We Survive

Beoir Àite was eerily empty of its usual patrons but there was a reason for it this time other than the customers avoiding the wrath of the bar's owner. Now all of the windows were covered and the door was locked to keep anyone unexpected from coming in.

Only three figures were currently in the bar, two sitting at the counter with the other behind it since it was still her bar.

Elizabeth frowned as she refilled the glasses of the two men sitting before her and softly said, "Whatever he did, it's not Edward's fault."

The younger of the pair - Cyclaryn, sire of her own Line - looked up and frowned before commenting, "I thought you hated the fledgling for causing you to driving off customers some time ago."

"Edward's too sweet to hate," she corrected. "And it was my own fault, continuing to rage at him like I did." Her eyes flicked to the other man and she continued, "Sir, please -"

"Lizbeth," said the dark-skinned man softly as he curled his fingers around his glass, the nickname making her go quiet. He lifted his dark eyes to meet hers and smiled gently as he explained, "I am not going to kill the boy the moment he's brought through the door, I assure you. But this meeting...it must happen because of what he has done."

"It wasn't his fault!" exploded Elizabeth suddenly. She ignored her great-grandsire's hissing of her name and barrelled on. "If anyone is to blame, it would be that sire of his!"

"Elizabeth!" snapped Cyclaryn. "I thought Kaeli taught you better than to snap at the First!"

The Welsh vampiress whirled on him then, wagging a finger in his face, and snarled, "Don't you give me that psuedo serious bullshit. Every single one of our Line know exactly how you are and it isn't some bootlicker, so don't pretend you are!" Turning back to the other vampire, she leaned on the counter and hissed, "This isn't fair, Omcha."

Omcha, the First, nodded his head slowly before saying, "The boy has broken none of the Laws. All he is responsible for are the deaths of these women." Looking at Cyclaryn, he asked, "What was the final count?"

"Thirty-four," answered his child. Cyclaryn then said to Elizabeth, "And we would have done something about his sire if we knew who it was."

"Cael Ward," said a voice from behind them and the trio turned as Darien let himself in with the key Elizabeth had given him once upon a time. That earned surprised looks from both older vampires and he shrugged. "Yeah, big joke from the universe with that one."

Omcha nodded in agreement then asked, "And what are you here for, Darien?" He then smiled and answered himself, "Ah. Support."

"Eligius is a friend," Darien confirmed with a nod. "Besides...if anyone of us should be here for Edward besides him, it's me. I know exactly what it's like to lose control like that." He didn't add that he had a tendency to kill more people indescriminately as they all knew that fact well enough.

Cyclaryn gave Omcha a questioning look but the First just shrugged and picked up his glass as he nodded towards the door Darien still held open. As the younger vampire turned to look, he observed, "Here they come," and everything went quiet.

Eligius came through the door first, nodding at Darien before he turned his gaze to Cyclaryn and Omcha. The Roman blinked then said softly, "Kivana didn't come."

At that Cyclaryn coughed and said, "My sister...she says she can't claim the actions of any of hers that are like this. I apologize on her behalf."

"Unacceptable. She -" Eligius sighed and bowed his head before saying, "No, I won't lose my temper. Not today." He turned, clapped Darien on the shoulder, then reached an arm up the outside stairwell. "Come, Mico. This must be done."

It took a few minutes for a shaking hand to reach down to take his and then Edward came into view, his entire body trembling so much that he missed a stair and tumbled into his lover's arms. Eligius lowered him to the floor as Darien pushed the door shut and turned the lock again with a finial click that made the youngest vampire flinch. It took a few minutes but Edward slowly lifted his gaze to the pair seated at the bar and a whimper left his lips.

"I didn't -" he began but Omcha lifted a hand to still his words. Edward flinched back, pushing himself further against Eligius, and the First blinked before lowering his hand with a sad expression on his face.

"Tell me what happened," Omcha said gently.

Edward looked nervously up at Eligius then over at Darien who had moved to stand next to the couple. While his lover merely hugged him tightly, Darien laid a hand gently on the younger vampire's shoulder and said softly, "Tell them. It will be all right." The blond gave him a look that said he didn't believe that but nodded before drawing in an unneed breath with a shudder.

"I-I was going to work," he began slowly. "Just walking along, thinking about what needed to be done today...and then I heard him."

"Who?" asked Cyclaryn.

"Cael," answered Edward in a tone that said it should have been obvious. " 'Oh, how you've fallen,' he said. 'Here I saved you, made you this marvelous killer...and you go falling from grace. Do you know how that hurts me?' " A strangled, hysterical laugh tore out of the young vampire's throat and he gave the two eldest vampires in the bar a half-mad look. "Hurts him, he said. Him. The one that did this to me, that-th-that ra -"

"Shh," breathed Eligius, fingers slipping over Edward's lips. "We talk of him now, not then, Candeo. Tell them what he did next."

The young vampire nodded at that and began again.

"He said then, 'It looks like I'm going to have to reteach our lessons.' And I told him no, that I was happy, that I was with someone that loved me, that I didn't need him. He laughed. Laughed. Said 'You don't know what you want, child. This life they all lead - it's just an illusion they think they can live. Now Voschlaq...Voschlaq and most of his know the truth I know.' Then he moved towards me and I wanted to run but I couldn't. He...he touched my cheek and said, 'The truth you know deep in that wicked little heart of yours.' "

Edward shivered as he continued, "I told him I wasn't wicked and he laughed at me again. Told me that if I wasn't, then why did I do what I did after he Turned me? Said, 'You know you love what you did then. Love the blood. Love the hunt, the kill. I doubt that soldier so smitten with you even let's you that far off the leash. He doesn't want you to be what you really are.' "

A growl rumbled out of Eligius and Edward paused to touch the taller vampire's face, looking up at him as he breathed, "I called him a liar. Laughed in his face. Told him you were far more my sire than he ever was." He then looked at Omcha and said, "Cael grabbed me then in a rage, dragging me back into the alley he came from. He...he did the things he d-did to me before. And I...I got lost."

"It's all blood after that. And those women's faces," finished Edward softly, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to -"

"Shh," hushed Darien, touching his shoulder again. He then looked at Cyclaryn and Omcha, eyes narrowed as he snarled, "Isn't that enough to go after Cael without Kivana's permission? We all know she won't give it."

"She's terrified of him with good reason," explained Omcha. "He stalked her across Europe for a century in the 1400s. Didn't stop until Jifar managed to knock him unconscious and locked him in some cathedral tomb in Italy."

Cyclaryn coughed at that. "Santa Maria del Fiore in Florence," he supplied. At the First's look, he explained, "She didn't want to go back there again and he was taking care of her so he asked me to go check if Cael was still there. If he had been there when I arrived, I would have killed him him just for daring to stalk an Elder, let alone my sister."

"So," said Darien, "after that he escaped and just roamed around killing freely?"

Omcha just nodded and Darien continued in exasperation, "And we just let him? He's nothing more than...than...me! He is the embodiment of everything that I was and more! Gods, we're damn lucky I never met him back then."

"The world would have gone up in blood and fire," intoned Cyclaryn. He then looked at Omcha and said, "I am of the mind we hunt him down, whatever Kivana may say about leaving him be. He crept into this city like a ghost to merely torment his own child and caused the mindless slaughter of thirty-four humans. Should that not be as much a crime as child attacking sire?"

"It is as of now," answered Omcha. He moved from the bar stool then, slowly crossing the room to where Edward still huddled in Eligius' arms. As his eyes met the Roman's briefly, the First touched the young vampire's shoulder and said gently, "I know that this will haunt you for the rest of your life, child, but this was not your doing. There will be no repercushions from this, not for you. You are safe."

Edward had first flinched away from the touch then had stared at Omcha, his eyes filling with tears as the oldest vampire spoke. He slowly nodded then turned in Eligius' arms, burying his face in the older vampire's chest as he let out a sob.

Eligius inclined his head respectfully to the First and Omcha returned it before saying, "Come, Cyclaryn, if we are to find him, we should begin now."

"I'll meet you outside the city," answered Cyclaryn as they unlocked the door and left the bar together. "Tehran isn't going to let us leave without her after I tell her what happened."

"You know I always welcome your sister's council and aid," those left below in the bar heard Omcha say before the two older vampires drifted out of range. There was silence amongst them except for Edward's sobs until they finally stopped and the blond turned in Eligius' arms.

He smiled at Darien and said, "Thanks. You didn't have to be here."

Darien shook his head at that and smiled at the younger vampire. "Yes, I did," he assured. "Eligius has been my friend for some time before you came into his life, Edward. And I felt you needed someone here who'd been through something similar."

Edward blinked in confusion and the Irish vampire said, "I've given Eligius permission to tell you later. Right now I think you both need to go back home and relax."

"Which is exactly where we are about to go," rumbled Eligius. "Darien, Lizbeth, we shall see you later." He then gently guided Edward out of the bar, the young vampire waving over his shoulder before they disappeared.

Darien closed the door behind them and sagged against it before breathing, "Gods."

"You didn't honestly think that Omcha was going to kill him, did you?" asked Elizabeth as she poured out something into a shot glass and held it out towards him. As he staggered over and threw back the liquor, she said, "You did."

"I've seen two like him be killed before with kill counts at ten," hissed Darien as he sat down on the bar stool Cyclaryn had abandoned. "Plus I didn't know why Edward had gone over the edge - Eligius didn't tell me anything except when the meeting was." He ran a hand over his face and shrugged as he continued, "I didn't know what to expect."

"Darie, if Omcha spared you, I think he will spare anyone."

"That doesn't make me feel any better given what I was, Liz," he grumbled, grabbing the bottle to pour another shot. After he downed it, Darien said, "And I'm the exception, remember? The only reason I got spared was Everett begging for my life on her hands and knees."

Elizabeth's eyebrows went up and he said, "Kaeli told me that after. Said it proved how much she cares about the three of us." Then he coughed and continued, "Anyway, I think the real reason was Eligius."

"Why?"

Darien gave her a level look before he answered, "You don't have to know anything about them to know that Eligius would do anything for him. If Omcha had brought down the death sentence, there would have been a fight."

"Could he have won?" asked Elizabeth.

"Against Cyclaryn at least." At her surprised look, he chuckled. "Trust me, I've seen them both fight. Cyclaryn may have some practice at hand-to-hand but you need to remember that Eligius was a Roman legionaire. And he keeps in practice."

She smiled at that and said, "I seem to recall you becoming fairly good with a blade yourself."

He snorted and shook his head. "Fencing. I showed Eligius the only sword I kept from a duel - you remember the Frenchman that nearly gutted me? He looked at it and laughed before asking me if I really called that a blade."

Elizabeth laughed.

"What did you say in response?" she asked.

Darien gave her a sideways grin as he answered, "Told him that, no, I called it Isabeau and she didn't take kindly to not being considered a blade."

They both had a long laugh at that and fell into silence after, Darien fiddling with the shot glass in front of him and Elizabeth frowning at the counter top. After a moment she lifted her head then reached across to rest her hand on top of his wrist, stopping his movement. When he lifted his eyes to meet hers, she asked, "Will he be all right?"

He stared back at her for a moment, thinking of a time when she had asked him that same question, then smiled.

"Given what he's already survived," he replied in a quiet voice, "and who he has on his side, I think Edward is going to be just fine, Liz."

Breakdown, Part II: Truth Behind the Delusions

Eligius gathered Edward up in his arms slowly, trying not to think of how long it had taken him this time to hunt down his wayward lover. They still weren't certain what had caused the fledgling's break this time but he had been loose for two days in the burroughs, killing at any whim, until he'd finally been spotted. Contacts in the police departments throughout the city were reporting that he had killed at least twenty-seven women in those two days; those were the reports so far that they had confirmed were him. There were over two dozen more possibles still needing investigating.

"Jove, Mico," rumbled the Roman, pausing to brush back the glitter encrusted blond hair. "What happened?"

"Will he be okay?" asked a voice from behind him and Eligius turned his head to look at the brunette he'd asked to assist him.

Sighing, he slowly stood up and pulled his unconscious lover in close to his chest, as much an attempt to protect him as keep him from getting away if he woke. Then Eligius looked at the young she-wolf and answered, "I don't know, Mary. This time...I may not be able to get him out of trouble. The First has heard of what happened - he's come to investigate."

Mary Halvar's eyes widened at that and she breathed, "But...he's not a Rogue. I thought they only killed Rogues."

"Any uncontrollable vampire," he corrected with a heavy heart. Two thousand years he had lived but he couldn't think of how to protect Edward from that.

She frowned at that and looked sadly at the unconscious Edward. Mary knew them both pretty well as she'd been one of the few to actually get up and sing karaoke the night Edward had talked Elizabeth into letting him set it up at her bar. They had become friends after that and Eligius had treated her with the kindest respect.

After a moment she wrapped her arms around herself and asked, "Are they going to kill him? 'Cause I'll speak up if they say they are." Shaking her head vigorously Mary added, "I know Edward and that...that thing that assaulted me wasn't him."

"No," agreed Eligius, "it wasn't. But this isn't the first time that side of him has gotten out...nor will it be the last."

"Eli," she breathed, tears already streaming down her cheeks at his words. She knew them to be true though - Eligius had warned her of Edward's 'problem.' "There's gotta be something."

The Roman sighed and fixed the she-wolf with a sad gaze. "Right now," he stated slowly, "we don't know what will happen. It will take some time for the investigation to happen as there are still reports of him killing women coming in."

Mary bit her lip then said, "If you need me -"

"I will call," promised Eligius, forcing a smile for her benefit. "Now go home, cagnolina. You know I will do all in my power to keep him safe."

"I know," she whispered. Stepping forward, she gently touched Edward's arm then turned and fled, Eligius able to smell the salt of her tears and hear the sobs she tried to swallow. He wanted to follow her, to comfort the little she-wolf who was a friend both himself and his lover but he couldn't.

First he needed to get Edward home and cleaned up for the inevitable meeting with the First.

Then Eligius had to begin the task of picking up the pieces of his lover again.

Breakdown, Part I: Glittering Delusions of the Mind

Sunlight reflected off tanned skin, bouncing from pinpricks of glitter that clung almost desperately to bare flesh. The young man was covered in it from head to toe, glitter even disappearing past the waistline of the tight jeans he wore as well as glimmering in his blond hair. From a distance he was nothing more than a lean twenty-something male wandering the streets.

The key words being 'from a distance.'

Up close it became apparant that there was something very wrong with the young man.

The fact that he did not merely walk was the first thing; instead he moved with the smooth, stalking strides of a predator who is at the top of the food chain and knows this fact. Then there was his smile, which was stretched wide to show off white teeth in a feral grin that could send shivers racing up the spine of even the most hardened. His eyes were cool pools of blue-green, like a peices of frozen sea water, and shone with only one emotion: hunger.

Most noticeably up close, of course, were the flecks of blood that clung to the side of his mouth and were spattered across his chest and shoulders.

He was barefoot, walking down the busy sidewalk in broad daylight, but he didn't care. A stacatto drumbeat filled his head and he occassionally whistled along with it, drawing strange looks as his tune drifted from nonsense to a song of his birth decade and then on to something more recent. Most, once having looked, quickly turned their heads and hurried on, either disturbed by his smile or having noticed the blood drying on his skin.

Let them call the police on him. He could tear through them in the time it took one of the poor little bloodbags to breath and not leave enough of them behind to fill a thimble. So let them come - let them just try to take him down.

He was of Kivana, the weakest of the Elders who had passed that on to her children, but he was not weak. No, his sire had showed him how to not be weak like the rest of their kin, Line and extended blood included.

And the police were only human.

Was it not their duty as vampires to cull the herd? To keep their weeping, crawling, miserable population from completely overrunning the world? That was what they had evolved to be, wasn't it? What the world had willed their creation for?

He stopped whistling, throwing back his head to laugh, drawing furtive looks from those on the sidewalk around him, and then he saw her. Pretty. Tall. Slim. Brunette. Oh, most importantly, brunette.

She had to be his. He wanted, no, needed to taste her, touch her. Taste her skin with his lips. Feel her blood flowing across his tongue. Touch her trembling muscles as she was frozen in terror. He needed that - now. Even with his belly already full of blood, he needed her.

A smile stretched his lips as he moved towards her but he was frequently forced back from her as she darted here and there amongst the crowds. Slowly his smile began to fade and a growl rumbled in his chest as he shoved past a man to try and catch up with her. He could push through them all and catch her with no difficulties but that would make the chase all too easy. And he didn't want that.

When she had to stop at a crosswalk, he caught her. Slid close up behind her and wrapped an arm around her waist, tugging her tall frame harshly against his before resting his chin on her shoulder. "Hello there," he purred, flashing his teeth in a predator's smile. When her eyes widened, he laid his other hand on her hip and applied just a little pressure with his fingers, rewarded a moment later with a gasp of pain. "Now don't scream," he warned, "you and I...we're just going to have a little chat. Alone."

She nodded and he smiled as he led her back down the street towards an alley that he knew had a little alcove that would be just perfect. He could feel her trembling already and wondered what she was thinking. Did she believe he was going to merely mug her? Rape her? Could she even imagine what was really about to happen?

Well, he mused with a little smirk, he could rape her. It had been far too long since he had felt the soft skin of a woman against his. Far too long. Oh. Oh yes, the idea was growing more tempting by the moment.

He smiled as they moved down the alley, ready to shove her against the wall when they reached the alcove, to tear down all her defenses and leave her broken when he was though. That was what his sire had taught him to do, wasn't it?

However, he didn't get the chance.

Before the alcove she suddenly twisted - changed - in his arms and slipped from his grasp. He didn't quite catch it when it happened and turned around in shock, eyes widening as he saw a dark brown she-wolf before him now with her fangs bared. She lunged at him and he took an instinctive step back, light reflecting off the glitter on his back and shoulders as he went through a patch of light -

Then someone stepped out of the dark alcove and swung a tire iron at his head.

His last thought was to curse his weak half and his filthy lover.

Remaining Human in the Face of Darkness

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" The sing-song voice echoed ominously through the alley, bouncing off of the grime coated bricks. "If you come out quick, little funkeln, I won't have to hurt you too much."

Edward flinched at the tone and tried to press his back even close to the cold, slimy feeling metal of the dumpster he had flung himself behind. It was just his luck that he had taken a detour going home from work to pick up a present for Eligius' birthday and stumbled over a slayer along the way. And not just any slayer either.

No, he had to skip all the way through the youngsters, the sympathizers, and the cold killers straight to the craziest one of all.

Rebecca fucking Larcoth was blocking the only way out of the dead end alley, blonde hair falling over features that would be beautiful if not marred by a killer's smile. And against her was just him, Edward Harlow: weaponless except for the monster that lurked in his psyche. That weapon was too much even to wield against Rebecca.

It might enable him to kill her...but it would also kill his soul in the process.

What do I do, what do I do?

"Funkeln," sang out Rebecca's voice and he caught the all too familiar sound of metal against leather - a blade being drawn from a sheath. Then there was the cold click of a bullet being chambered into firing position and Edward closed his eyes, nearly crying out loud as the memory of his own father holding a gun to his forehead. Of course that memory ended swiftly in his father's death at his sire's hands but it still made fear blossom even brighter in his chest.

"Oh God, Eli, where are you?" he hissed under his breath. "I can't...I can't fight her. Not without losing everything you made me."

He jerked his head up then as suddenly sprinting footsteps came towards him and Edward dove forward as Rebecca rounded the dumpster with a mad gleam in her too bright blue eyes. Somehow he managed to count the bullets that slammed into the dumpster exactly where he had been a moment before - one, two, three - as he rolled to his feet. The slayer spun towards him, knife flashing in the dim light that came from the street, and he swept his arm up in a blur to catch her wrist.

"Eindrucksvoll," she purred in a throaty growl that rippled with a hunter's amusement to find the prey resisting death. Then the barrel of Rebecca's gun dimpled the skin underneath his chin and she added, "But I am afraid you lose, funkeln."

Edward's mind flashed from present to past, from one gun against his skin to another, and he heard the slow rumble of drum beats start up. His eyes swiveled down to hers, terrified blue-green into crazed blue, and he breathed, "Please." Just one word.

She thought it was meant for her.

Rebecca's lips twisted into cruel smile and she rumbled, "Oooh, begging. I do so love begging."

Somehow Edward managed enough courage to snort as the rumble rose to a staccato pace in his mind. "Wasn't talking to you," he growled out. Her smile went cold at that and mad eyes narrowed as her finger began to squeeze down on the trigger. And he prayed to God and those Roman gods Eli kept statues of that her bullet spattered his brains across the bricks before the drums consumed him.

"Mi scusi," said a deep voice calmly and Rebecca jerked the trigger twice in quick succession as she felt the alarming presence of another vampire. And this one had snuck up on her without making a sound.

That was when she realized that her finger had clenched twice at air. No bullets had spattered the blond vampire's brain matter against the walls of the alley. The bastard had taken her gun without her even realizing it.

Rebecca felt breath on the back of her neck and the hairs there rose on end as she sensed the large vampire that was now looming behind her. "Sei fuori di tuo classifica, poca ragazza," he hissed and the calm voice of before had turned into the growl of an angry bear. She whirled on him then, ignoring the wrist still held by the statue-still blond, and pulled another knife out lightning fast.

Her swipe should have taken him across the belly, spilled his entrails hotly over his knees and onto the dirty concrete.

Instead the air was empty there and Rebecca had a split second to stare before one large hand closed around her throat, fingers pressing down harshly on her windpipe. Her wrist was ripped away from the blond's hand and she attacked with both knives then, aiming at the face of the vampire holding her as she struggled for air. He batted her strikes - which had decapitated so many before and sliced open throats to the bone - away like they were mere flies and she blinked hazing eyes to get her first look at her captor.

Severe cheekbones and a hooked Roman nose stood out from a heavy-boned face with a thin coat of scruff and the naturally olive skin of someone from the Mediterranean area of the world. Wavy dark hair did not soften the features that could have been carved from marble and eyes a shade of amber so dark as to be mistaken for dark brown or even black made her freeze. Rebecca felt a tremor of fear ripple up her spine for the first time in years as that gaze met hers and seemed to envelop her very soul.

She had always thought of herself as the ultimate hunter.

But this...no, this gaze meeting hers was that of a true hunter.

He considered her for a moment, eyes boring into her, then he shrugged one shoulder. "You are lucky I am feeling generous today, poca cacciatore. And that Mico is more important to me than leaving your corpse upon the stoop of your kinds precious little haven in this city." With that he dropped her to the ground and Rebecca was so stunned that she stumbled, slumping against the dumpster as she fought to regain her balance. She then realized he had turned his back on her and stared at the broad, leather covered target it provided.

As she straightened, he turned his head to regard her and that gaze speared her into stillness. Her fingers fluttered over the smooth handle of her knife, wanting so badly to use it but too afraid to strike because she knew that he would kill her the moment she moved to do so. And while she danced with death frequently, even she did not want to tempt it to strike so blatantly.

"Run, little girl," he said as he turned his back on her again. Rebecca nodded, heart suddenly in her throat, and backed slowly out of the alley. She took to her heels the moment she was clear of its walls and made for her apartment with the fear still pounding through her.

Once the slayer was gone, Eligius took Edward's face in his hands, worried by the stillness that had taken his lover since his arrival. As soon as he touched him, he felt the tremors, and knew. Leaning forward, he breathed, "Mico, I am here," into his ear and instantly felt a hitch of breath against his cheek.

"E-Eli?" came the frightened little voice and the Roman drew the smaller vampire into his arms, pressing a kiss against his temple. Edward shivered in his arms as he warred against his personal demon and when he finally slumped bonelessly against Eligius, he whispered, "I nearly..."

"Shh, shh," bid Eligius with a shake of his head, "you did not so we shall not speak of it." He felt Edward nod against his throat and brushed at the grime-coated mess his normally feather-soft hair had become in annoyance. "I am taking you home."

Edward made no protests as his lover gathered him in his arms, simply limply resting his head against Eligius' chest and listening to his heart pick back up to a normal human pace as his body resettled into normal survival mode now that the crisis was averted. Then he asked weakly, "The slayer?"

Eligius shrugged as he answered, "I let her go." When Edward started to move his lips, he interrupted fiercely, "Your health is more important to me, Mico, than killing some slayer whelp barely loosed to hunt."

"Rebecca Larc..."

"May be something to fear for you young ones," growled the older vampire before the full name of the slayer could be spoken, "but I bear the scars of slayers far greater than she will ever be." His voice softened then as he said, "Now, hush and rest easy, carus."

A tried smile crossed Edward's face at that and he closed his eyes, the mental exhaustion of holding himself back from becoming what his sire had made him again wearing him down. That exhaustion was reassuring in it's own way, just as Eligius' phantom heartbeat in his ears was.

It meant he had faced a slayer as mad as he had once been and come out not only alive but still the human his lover had made him.

Without You I Am Lost

There was a pulse-pounding beat in his head, a drum roll of raucous sound that filled him from tip to toe and made it painfully hard to think. Hard to breathe.

No, wait, he didn’t breathe anymore. He was dead, dead, dead, just like his father…

No, no, don’t think about him.

Those thoughts lead to him.

He lifted hands – hands stained with blood he could never wash away now – and tangled them in his hair as a low, painful whine seared its way up his throat. The hunger burned in his belly and pounded in his head and it was all he could do to stay and not leave his dorm on campus.

If he did…he would kill.

But it hurt so much…

And he was so hungry…

The drum roll in his head increased, pounding as fast as it could, and his stomach wrenched sideways. He could feel the fangs now, digging hard into his lower lip, and knew he was about to lose. The hunger was about to overtake him and he was going to be lost again.

His times of freedom were getting fewer, their time shortening by leaps and bounds. Soon…soon he wouldn’t come out of the bloodstained haze.

Soon…soon there would be no him. Just the hunger.

A shudder rippled through his body then, making him convulse in agony, and he lost it. The hunger roared its way into control and demanded to be sated.  And his shivers suddenly ceased as he stopped fighting and rose with liquid grace, a chilling smile stretching his mouth.

There was a pretty brunette in the next dorm over who liked to walk at night.

She would be perfect.

He licked his lips in anticipation then strode for the door, his previous regret and distaste forgotten. The hunger in him and his own weakness had thwarted his control again…and he was a cold killer once more.

Edward woke with a strangled cry, tearing himself forcibly from the dream-slash-memory and into reality. He rolled over, desperate to feel contact with another body, but discovered the other side of the bed was empty. Stomach plummeting, he scrambled out of bed as he heard the staccato sound startup in his head.

He staggered through the apartment to the kitchen, wrenching open the refrigerator door. Inside an ice bin filled with packets of discarded blood from hospitals and blood banks greeted him and he hastily grabbed two of them. Without quite focusing on just what he was doing, he poured each into a separate mug and shoved one into the microwave while he drank the other cold.

The chilled, sludgy plasma tried to choke in his throat, his body wanting to reject it, but Edward forced himself to swallow. He managed to get it all down by the time the microwave dinged and dropped it in the sink.

As he wrapped his fingers around the other mug, he leaned back against the counter, trying to relax tense muscles. He lifted the mug to his nose and breathed in the scent of warm blood but part of him snarled in distaste. It wanted fresh blood, straight from a vein, but he couldn’t…

He broke out in fresh shudders at the thought of tapping a living vein, fear of turning back into what he had been rising in his belly, and swallowed half the mug in one go to still it.

Edward slowly relaxed after a few moments, taking slow sips from the mug. The warmed-up blood calmed the hunger quivering in his belly and stilled the staccato rhythm in his head. Part of him, though, was never satisfied.

Sighing, he lifted his eyes and noticed there was a fresh note stuck under a magnet on the freezer. His lover’s broad strokes spelled out a simple note that he knew well: “Gone out for a bite, Mico. Remember Roma.”

A smile touched his lips then, as it always did when that note was left. He always recalled his first few true years as a fledgling vampire in Rome with the one he wished had been his sire with ease.

Still though…

He needed him here now. The memory was still so close and he wasn’t strong enough to be rid of it entirely himself.

Taking a step forward, Edward tugged the note from under the magnet and, leaning against the refrigerator, pressed the paper to his nose. His lover’s scent clung heavily to the paper and, while not him, he could use it to banish the memory briefly.

Never for long though.

“Where are you, Eli?” he asked quietly, a desperate whine underlying his voice. “I need you.” He leaned his head against the freezer door and focused on the all-too human action of just breathing in an effort to calm himself.

Then, as though his words had summoned him, there was a warm hand pulling the mug from his hand to place on the counter. Moments later those arms were wrapped around him and Eligius breathed against his ear, “I am here, Mico,” and then Edward’s knees buckled.

“The dream again?” questioned the Roman as he leaned slightly backwards so Edward rested against him.

It was all the younger vampire could do to nod in response and Eligius growled something in Italian that had him regaining his balance for long enough to turn around. Edward wrapped his arms around the taller man’s neck and buried his face in his chest, breathing in his scent and burrowing in as close as he could. Eligius happily obliged him, drawing him tightly against him, and rumbled in a quiet voice, “I am here now, Mico, my carus. And you know I will not let you fall back to that.”

“I know,” Edward breathed and a shudder raced through him. He felt his lover tighten his arms then and say, “Come. Let us go back to sleep.” A nod was all the younger could manage and he ended up being half-carried back to the bedroom.

Eligius tucked him in like he was a child – which Edward was in comparison to the Roman’s two thousand plus years – then slid in next to him under the blankets. He drew the blond towards him, wrapped an arm snugly around his waist, and pressed a kiss against his temple.

“There now,” he rumbled in a low voice, the one Edward loved because he could feel it vibrating through his entire being when they were close like this. “Here we are, safe and sound in our bed, and nothing can touch us here.”

Edward nodded then shifted slightly, scooting downward so he could tuck his head under Eligius’ chin. The older vampire chuckled and rested his chin atop his head comfortably in response to the movement.

“Nothing can touch us,” murmured Edward.

Eligius made a noise of agreement. “Never in our own sanctuary. Now sleep, mmm, Mico? I will watch your dreams like a hawk.”

He wanted to giggle at that suddenly, thinking of how like a hawk Eligius did look with his hooked – well – Roman nose but stilled it. Instead Edward closed his eyes, breathed in the comforting scent of the one who had saved his life not so long ago, and drifted away.

And one thing he could rely upon with Eligius there was that he would never dream of those days before he had been there for him.

Bad Things Don't Always End in Tragedy

Since the karaoke debacle weeks before Beoir Àite had been strangely, almost eerily quiet even during the night when it was frequently filled to the brim. The Slayer Clans had been just as quiet since the deaths of several of their own months before so they were not the culprits behind this silence.

No, almost every usual patron of the bar was avoiding it due to the still blazing temper of one blonde Welsh bartender against one foolish young fledgling who had managed to talk her into the entire debacle. Those that had witnessed the aftermath were steering clear and they had warned off almost everyone they knew.

The lack of customers did nothing to improve Elizabeth Bannon's temper, of course. Not that she needed the money, what with having been around for almost eight centuries - but she liked running her bar. She liked having bodies in the seats, breathing or not, and listening to the chatter of conversations.

She liked giving her kindred and their allies a place where they could gather in peace.

And now it had been ruined.

Beoir Àite did have a handful of occupants: some of its most loyal customers. And, of course, her faithful Viking bouncer, Erik Braed, who had never missed a day of work since the bar's opening in '79. Even their presence could not lessen her temper, however.

The five men - all vampires with the half exception of one - were seated at the counter, their eyes focused on the whirlwind behind the counter who was cleaning glasses with enough fury to break everyone one-in-four. Only one of them knew enough Welsh to understand what she was growling in a continuous string not quite under her breath and was looking a little green under the gills. A few of the others knew fragments of the language but actually knowing the translation wasn't needed. Her tone spoke volumes.

Eligius Vitus glanced to his left at Darien O'Connell, who still looked a little green, then as his right to Erik Braed, whose forehead was wrinkled heavily - a sign that the bouncer was looking for words to say to his boss. As the eldest of them - and the lover of the one who had caused the problem - he took it upon him himself to speak up.

"Lizbeth," he rumbled quietly but with the same tone he had once used to command men when he was alive. She snapped around towards him, her words cut off, and he held up a hand. "If you keep raging like this, cara, they will continue staying away. It is you they are frightened of."

Elizabeth opened her mouth, blue eyes angry, ready to protest his words but Darien - still looking a little green - spoke up.

"He's right, Liz. I've known you long enough, cousin, to know how people fear your temper." At her incredulous look, he glanced at his compatriots for support and they all nodded.

"So...what do I do?" she asked.

"Close the bar?" offered the carrot-haired Paul Outterridge from Darien's left.

From Erik's right, the werewolf-turned-vampire Walter Leitzervein growled, "Go kill?" in his broken, heavily German-accented English. The bouncer next to him muttered, "I don't think that's the right course, old man." Walter responded with an eyebrow arch that obviously translated to 'Who are you calling old?' towards the elder vampire then shrugged in Elizabeth's direction and turned back to his drink.

"I believe," said Eligius slowly before their dear bartender could get up in arms, "that closing the bar would do you good. Give them a week without you and they will come running later."

Elizabeth let out an exasperated puff of breath at that then asked, "And what am I supposed to do during this week?"

The Roman grinned brightly at that and Darien interjected, "I think by that smile he is suggesting you stay at home." The Irish vampire then smiled slightly himself as he tacked on, "And perhaps stay in bed with Eiyshi for the whole of that time."

"Ah," sighed Eligius, "that is a good idea, meu amicus."

The blonde looked between the five of them then sighed, her shoulder slumping as she shook her head. "All right, all right, I'm going." She pointed at Erik as she rounded the counter and growled, "You don't let them break anything, you hear? And lock up when you're all done here."

"Of course, boss," rumbled Erik. "Now go and relax. I'll make sure the children behave."

"Good luck," was her parting shot before she vanished through the door, flipping the sign to 'closed' as she went. As soon as she vanished up the stairs and they could no longer hear the sound of her boots, all five men breathed a collective sigh.

"Hopefully with a week of wild sex she'll calm down," grumbled Paul into his glass, breaking the silence. The others stared at him for a moment then Walter burst out laughing, followed a moment later by Erik. Darien and Eligius chuckled quietly, shaking their heads in amusement.

They spent several hours there, merely talking (and running off the occasional would-be customer who thought they might get free alcohol without Elizabeth's presence), until Paul left, grumbling about drinking too much. Walter followed him not long after, having gone long past even his considerable limit due to his two supernatural halves, and Erik had left to carry his friend home with a pointed look to the last two. Darien had nodded, relaying that he would lock up, and then it was he and Eligius alone in Beoir Àite.

"So," he finally said, "tell me the real reason you're with Edward. He may amuse you but that's no reason to be with anyone." His green eyes lidded as he peered under his bangs at the older vampire. "I've only been in love twice in my life but I know what it looks like. And you honestly love him."

Eligius frowned, the motion deepening the lines on his face, causing him to suddenly look more than the thirty-and-six years he had been when he was Turned. He lifted a hand to run over his face then sighed before saying softly, "I do love him."

Darien sat silent, waiting because he could tell that was not were the Roman was going to end.

"I taught him everything he knows, did you know that?" At the younger vampire's slight shake of his head, Eligius continued, "He was a child during the '50s and '60s and knew where his attractions lay by the time he was fourteen. By sixteen he had his first boyfriend and his father...he was not pleased to put it lightly. My Candeo, he tried to change to please his father, tried to find some attraction to girls. He kept coming back to boys, however, and when he thought he was safe to pursue one, he wasn't at all."

"He was at college, with someone he thought he loved, and his father came up to 'check' on him. To make sure he was playing 'straight'." Eligius shook his head and Darien felt his heart clench, knowing where this was going. "He was not pleased and...he hurt him. Took him away from the boy, down a dark alley, and tore him down with words and fists. Which is when Cael Ward found him."

Darien stiffened at that name, not having known that was Edward's sire. For a Kivana, the weakest of the six vampire Lines, Cael Ward had made a name for himself as one of the toughest and cruelest of their kind even in the modern age. And he was sweet, goofy Edward's sire?

The Fates were having a laugh when they orchestrated that one.

"What happened?" he asked softly.

Eligius smiled, the lines around his mouth drawing up tightly, before he answered. "Cael killed his father. Tore his head from his shoulders right there and spattered Candeo with his blood. Then he took him - in all ways possible." For a vampire of over two thousand years, who had seen almost as much war and death as any of the Elder vampires, Eligius' expression was one of a haunted man. "Meu amicus, he brutalized him so much that when he awoke...my Candeo was not himself."

"And Cael abandoned him," hissed Darien, knowing full well that vampire's modus operandi. Every vampire knew it but Kivana let it slide because she was a little scared of him herself and wouldn't even ask aid from her twin in taking him down.

"That he did. Because his last mortal moments were being beaten and berated by his father for attractions he could not control, he forced himself to forget. He spent months after he was Turned and abandoned, hunting young brunette girls, stalking them, attracting them to him like moths to flames, and killing them. Almost fifty bodies across one city and two towns in Washington before I came across him."

"He was mad," breathed Eligius as he continued talking. "Wild with rage at his father and consumed by the terror of what he had become because of how Cael Turned him. Oh if I could but get my hands on that pezzo di schiuma I would tear him apart with my bare hands for what he did." He heaved in a deep, unneeded breath, and shook his head. "It took time but I managed to coax out the real Edward, my poor Mico. Convinced him that his father had been wrong, that being attracted to the same gender was no sin, no crime; by Jove, if it were all of Rome would have been in flames before the Empire got off the ground!"

"After that he became what he is now?" asked Darien as the Roman chuckled softly to himself.

The older vampire shook his head negatively. "Not quite. It took...it took a great deal to change him. To begin the healing of those wounds Cael and his father caused." With a bitter smile, he picked up his forgotten shot glass and tossed back the whiskey in it. "He is...different...when we are alone. The flamboyancy is a shield to hide those half-healed wounds."

"And his lack of fear in the face of Liz's wrath?"

"When one has faced what he has in such a short life, our Lizbeth's minute wrath is little to fear," answered Eligius with a shrug. "You know as well as I that she was not really all that angry."

Darien nodded at that. "True."

They sat in silence for a long moment then Eligius asked quietly, "Do you understand now why I am with my Mico, meu amicus?"

The Irish vampire thought back over all he had just heard. Edward had been tormented and turned into a monster for a very short period because of his fears. He could sympathize with feeling like a monster; he had felt like that for half of his life. And Eligius had saved him, had brought him back, had shown him that he could be the person he once was and love those he wanted to love. The Roman had taught him what it was not only to be a vampire but to be human.

No wonder Edward adored him.

And seeing what he had done...Darien couldn't blame Eligius for falling in love with the fledgling Kivana.

"I understand," he finally answered just as quietly.  "What you did..." He trailed off, leaving the words 'I wish someone had been able to do the same for me' unsaid.

Eligius seemed to sense them, though, and clapped him warmly on the shoulder as he slid off of his barstool. "I think it is time for us to go home, Darien. My Candeo is likely back from his work and I feel the need to hold him close after speaking of the past. And you, I think, need the arms of your lady friend as well."

Darien blinked then his cheeks flushed at his reference to the fierce little mortal detective he had gained a strange relationship with since saving her life (and his own at the same time). Then he nodded and slipped to the floor with a smile.

"Yes, I think we both need our respective lovers," he said. "I...thank you for being honest with me."

Eligius smiled as he opened the door and said, "You are meu amicus, I am always honest with you. And to fully understand him, one must hear that story." He then bowed his head and muttered, "Goodnight, Darien," before he disappeared up the stairs to the street level.

"Goodnight, Eligius," answered Darien. He then rinsed the used glasses, turned off the lights, and locked the door before he mounted the steps himself. As he reached the street, he reached for his cell phone and pressed the number one speed dial.

"Rana?" he said quietly as his somewhat-girlfriend answered. "Can I come over? No, not for that. I just...I learned something tonight and I... Yes, I am a big scaredy cat and I need my brave detective to protect me." There was a pause then he repeated, "What did I learn?"

Tilting his head back, Darien looked at the night sky and answered, "Bad things don't always end in tragedy."