Safe in John's arms, I dream. Occasionally, like some creature of the deep surfacing for a breath of air, I glimpse the waking world before slipping back beneath heavy waves of sleep.

These brief glimpses, like a series of disconnected snapshots, tell a disjointed tale: John almost flying through the night as he carries me far from the scene of terror; a red pickup truck and familiar voices raised in concern; a frantic phone call, and finally the safety and comfort of John's bed. After that, the glimpses grow less frequent, until only quiet darkness remains.

An unknown time later, consciousness creeps back, slow as the brightening sky at dawn. At last, I open my eyes and find myself lying in an enormous bed, staring at the ceiling of an equally enormous room, neither of which I've ever seen before. It beats waking up in a hospital, which is what I'd have expected after getting shot and losing most of my blood, but still disorienting.

Rousing myself, I take stock.

I'm naked to the waist, dressed only in a pair of silk boxers. They're not mine and probably cost at least three times as much as any pair I own. Interestingly (and alarmingly) they're not John's style, either. Neither is the rest of the room, from the ornate bed frame to the fine art hanging on the walls.

A bandage wraps my chest and left shoulder, and from the concavity of my abdomen and the sharp definition of my hips, it looks like I've lost some weight.

Wondering how long I've been asleep, I sit up a little. A painful pinch alerts me to the presence of an IV line trailing from the inside of my right elbow and leading to a bag of clear liquid hanging from a stand. It looks like a saline drip, but I'm clearly not in a hospital, and without knowing for sure, I'd rather not have strange liquids entering my veins.

I start to peel off the tape holding it in place, when a smooth, vaguely familiar voice speaks close at hand.

"Do leave that in place. It's only electrolytes and hydration. You have my word."

Whipping my head towards the other side of the bed so quickly I nearly snap my own neck, I see David's powerful form reclining in a large, leather-upholstered chair. He remains seated, perhaps so as not to alarm me, and regards me with a sharp, blue-eyed gaze and what he probably thinks is a reassuring smile.

"You do that every time you wake up, you know. It's quite troublesome."

"Where am I?" My voice sounds thin and raspy in my own ears, as if I haven't used it recently, and my throat is painfully dry.

"You are at my penthouse apartment in San Francisco. John brought you here."

I sit up a little more, the sheets falling in a silky pool at my waist. "Where is he? Is he here? Is he alright?"

Memories flash through my mind: the possession, Rafael and Rexi's demise, John sinking sharp teeth into my flesh, the strange sensation of floating as my life drained away, and the demon's parting gift.

David watches me with predatory keenness, not missing so much as the flicker of an eyelash. "John is in seclusion. Though he survived the transformation with his humanity intact, it is not an easy transition. Fortunately, the first few days are the most difficult, and he is past that now. Challenges remain, however."

Exploring the side of my neck with a tentative touch, I discover another, smaller bandage taped over the place where John bit me. "What kind of challenges?"

David rests his elbow on the arm of the chair and his chin on his hand. "In embracing a full turn, John has essentially given up one life for another. A period of adjustment—of mourning, even—is to be expected. He is fortunate to have you to anchor him. You have been fortunate as well; the infection has taken hold, and you have come through the worst of it. You will recover, and become as John was: neither human nor vampire, but something in between."

Feeling strangely shy beneath David's gaze, I pull the silk sheet up to the base of my ribs and cast my restless gaze over the spacious room. "How long have I been here?"

"Three days," he replies. Rising slowly, he pours water from a pitcher on the bedside table into a tall glass and holds it out to me. "It is four since the events at the theater. John called me the moment he reached his house, and I came as quickly as I could. You were in a coma by the time I arrived."

"A coma?" I nearly choke on a sip of water, spilling a bit down my chin, and glance at the IV bag, wondering if I ought to be in a hospital, after all. "Are you a doctor?"

"I was, once; little of my medical 'knowledge' would still be considered useful, I fear. But rest assured, you are in good hands. The coma is but a natural defense as the infection takes hold."

"Infection?"

He nods. "Yes. Perhaps you have heard that there are tales of 'vampires' in many cultures around the world?"

Vaguely recalling something to that effect, I nod.

"And have you heard of the term 'recurrent evolution?'"

He's got me there. "Re... what?"

"Recurrent evolution is the phenomenon of the same trait evolving multiple times in the same lineage, often in response to a similar problem or 'pressure.' Stripes, flight, adaptations towards a certain diet, climate, or environment, for example."

"O...kay. And?"

"And 'vampirism' has 'evolved' many times, and in many forms, throughout history. You will find that you have more in common with some vampires than with others. The particular variety with which I, and now you and John, are afflicted, carries more hallmarks of the traditional, 'Old World' lore than some of the newer strains. I will not burst into flames if touched by sunlight, but I do suffer from painful photosensitivity, as now will John."

"Can you turn into a bat?"

He arches an elegant brow at me. "No. I do, however, require human blood in order to regenerate my own cells—which will continue to regenerate ad infinitum, so long as I feed, thus making me effectively immortal."

I swallow. "Okay, and what else?" 

Besides a penchant for explaining things like Mr. Spock.

David rises and approaches the bed. It takes an effort of will not to shrink away from him, and to hold still when he reaches for the bandage on the side of my neck and peels off the tape holding it in place.

"Speed, strength, rapid healing," he murmurs, most of his attention on his task. "You will share these gifts as well, though to a lesser degree."

Setting the bandage aside, he places two fingers alongside my jaw and gently turns my head so he can inspect the wound.

"Ah, and here is proof: not even a scar. Now, let us see the rest."

I do my best not to shiver as he unwraps the bandages encircling my chest with cold, pale fingers.

He nods, apparently pleased with what he sees. "You may have 'inherited' an even stronger gift from John than he did from me; but I suppose that is to be expected. You and he already shared a bond."

Looking down at myself, I see nothing but a small area of pink, freshly healed skin where Rexi's bullet entered my shoulder. I crane my neck and inspect the back, but find no corresponding exit wound.

"Fortunately, I was able to remove the bullet," David says, confirming my suspicion. "However, we almost lost you again in the process. It was 'touch and go,' as they say. It is a good thing you and John share such a strong bond; but, as with all good things, there is... a cost."

"What kind of cost?"

David withdraws his hand and shrugs. "Sometimes, the greater the advantage, the longer the shadow it casts. Enhanced vision and eyes that see well at night result in a greater sensitivity to light, for example. This is why many, but not all, vampires adopt a more nocturnal lifestyle."

I flinch, imagining John and I sleeping side by side in matching caskets. "Do I need to go coffin shopping?"

David laughs. "No, thank goodness for that! I do hope you have found my bed more comfortable than a coffin."

Barely suppressing a shudder at the knowledge that I've been lying in David's bed for three days, I manage a weak smile. He has the aura of a handsome serial killer—charming but deadly—and I honestly don't know if I would have found waking up in a coffin any less creepy than waking up in his underwear.

"I hope I haven't caused you too much trouble," I say.

"Not at all." He waves his hand. "But this is also what I mean by 'costs.' As a vampire, my metabolic needs are perhaps a tenth that of the average human. I can go many days without sleep, and require... sustenance... at most once a week and as infrequently as every two. Exertion naturally increases these needs, but in the course of daily life, my energy requirements are low."

"How is that a 'cost?'" I ask. Not having to sleep or buy groceries as often sounds like a good thing.

David smiles and sits beside me, perching on the edge of the bed. "Humans measure their lives by these things: when they sleep and when they eat; when the day begins and when it ends. As time goes on, this scale becomes increasingly meaningless. Time itself loses meaning to a creature with unlimited time on his hands. Human concerns become... trivial."

"What are you saying? That John will forget what it's like to be human?"

"In time, that is a possibility. You must anchor him, as he once anchored me; remind him that, though it may seem to lose meaning, time remains precious."

I nod. "Okay, what else?"

David shifts, adjusting his position and crossing one ankle over the opposite knee. "John's... appetites... will also change. The period immediately following his turning will be the most intense—and the most dangerous. It is not unusual for a newly turned vampire to accidentally kill a donor—or a partner, for that matter. Personally, I have faith in John, but that will be something for you to consider. He will find you even more irresistible now, and you must decide to what extent you wish to subject yourself to his... desires."

This time, I fail to conceal the shudder that wracks my frame from head to toe, and David frowns.

"Are you cold?"

No, dude. I'm fucking creeped out.

"A little."

He pats the coverlet and gets to his feet. "Well, I will leave you in peace, then. But first, allow me."

I hold still as he gently extracts the IV needle from my arm, swabs the site with an alcohol pad, and deftly places a bandage over it.

"There. You'll find a change of clothes in the washroom. Make use of the shower or bath if you like, but be mindful of your condition. You may feel lightheaded or nauseous. I'll have breakfast sent up."

He turns to go.

I call after him as he reaches the door. "Wait. When can I see John?"

Pausing, he looks back at me over his shoulder. "Soon. Relax and recover your strength. You will be needing it again before long."

He leaves, closing the door after him. It shuts with a gentle snick that makes me wonder if he locked me in for my own good. In the interest of preserving my peace of mind, I decide not to check.

David's bathroom is as lavish as his bed, and after half an hour soaking in a huge corner tub with jets and bubbles and fancy soap, I'm ready to forgive his creepiness a little. Dressed in clean, expensive, comfortable clothes that aren't mine, I emerge to find he kept his word regarding breakfast as well.

While I was in the bath, someone had entered the room (creepy), set up a table and chair, and laid out an expansive and comprehensive breakfast spread (creepiness forgiven).

Checking beneath the covered trays, I discover perfectly poached eggs doused in rich hollandaise sauce and topped with fresh dill, a half of a perfect avocado alongside butter and a rack of whole wheat toast, a plate of crispy bacon, a bowl of fresh fruit salad, a little cup of yogurt, and a side of granola. There's also a pot of coffee with cream and sugar, which is what I go for first.

I hadn't felt very hungry, but as soon as the first bite of food passes my lips and flavors explode across my tongue, I'm suddenly ravenous. What seemed like far too much food for one meal proves just enough, and I'm a hair shy of overstuffed as I polish off the bite of bacon I'd saved for last.

Then, suddenly exhausted again, I return to David's bed, lying back and shutting my eyes. I only mean to rest and digest a while, but my mind wanders like a small cloud blown across a vast sky, and I fall into a deep and dreamless sleep once more.

A loud crash and raised voices wake me, and I bolt up in alarm. The room is dark, the day having passed into night while I slept, but my eyes pick out details even in the gloom. Whether this is because of my new 'sort of but not quite a vampire' abilities, or simply because there's enough light to see by, I don't know.

"Where is he!?"

John's voice, muffled by walls yet still loud, reaches me from the hall. David answers him.

"He is resting. I—"

"What have you done!?"

"Nothing, John! I have done nothing, save treat his wounds and serve him breakfast. You have my word."

"Then let me see him!"

"John, I really don't think—"

A feral roar and another resounding crash is all the answer David gets. Remembering their fight at John's house and how it played out, I'm up and across the room, throwing open the door (which wasn't locked after all) and stepping into the hall, despite every survival instinct I have telling me to run the other way.

At the other end of it, John stands with his hand wrapped around David's throat, holding the other man a few inches off the ground. Both men sport bruises and bloody scratches on their faces and arms, and their shirts are torn to shreds. John was already nearly David's match when he was half turned, and now as a full vampire, it seems he's gained the upper hand.

"John, stop!"

John drops David, who collapses in a heap, and turns towards me.

I draw back as he approaches. His face is dark with rage and a red light glints in his eyes, and for a moment, a shadow of fear falls over me, chilling my heart. He stops, his expression shifting from burning intensity to a softer regret.

"Carlos..." He reaches for me, his expression betraying every truth in his heart.

My vision clears. In place of a monster, I see only the man I love and, foolish or not, I trust him not to hurt me. With his name on my lips, I step forward and walk into his arms.

His embrace is gentle and warm, yet fierce and tight; and despite all the strangeness that surrounds us, it feels exactly like home.