From the Ashes

From the Ashes



This story is set just after “Ashes to Ashes”. “The Human Factor” never happened.



Thanks to Cousin Shelley for her wonderful beta reading! She also suggested the title. Make sure to read her great stories if you haven’t already.



Disclaimer: Not mine. Big surprise, eh?









LaCroix set a blood pack out to thaw while Nicholas stored the rest in the freezer. Young Javier was proving to be more trouble than he’d expected. Under most other circumstances, he would have staked the whelp without a qualm. But Nicholas liked him. And Nicholas had very few vampire friends. LaCroix poked at the bag, reluctantly admitting that he was probably in part to blame for that. Thomas had not been the first vampire that he had used to trick his son. Many in the Community held his gentle childe in contempt, which they weren’t shy in expressing. Nicholas, though naturally trusting and affectionate, had eventually taken those betrayals and rejections to heart. He’d become, in regards to the community, a virtual recluse in the last century, avoiding even Janette.



But, for some reason, Nicholas had warmed to this amoral, irresponsible brat. The Spaniard’s appeal entirely escaped LaCroix. He suddenly wondered if Nicholas was attracted to the boy. He’d shared Nicholas with many, many women over the centuries, but never with another man. He didn’t like the idea. He smothered the spike of jealousy before his son caught it. He caught Nicholas giving him a bewildered look. His son patted his arm gently, trying to sooth him, though not knowing the reason for his agitation.



Nick turned, mixing a little curare into a draught of blood for Javier. He turned around, then jumped a little. LaCroix was nearly nose to nose with him. Nick nervously searched his father’s face. His eyes weren’t angry, exactly—but there was something terribly intense in that gaze. Something that made Nick nervous.



LaCroix took the bottle from his son’s hands, then placed a hand on the counter on either side of Nicholas’s waist, trapping him. He smiled at his child’s apprehensive expression. He leaned in close, pressing the length of their bodies together. Nick’s upper body leaned back a bit, but his lower body was firmly trapped against his father’s.



LaCroix leaned into Nicholas until their lips nearly touched. Nicholas leaned away until his head hit a kitchen cabinet. Now that his son was trapped in that rather awkward position, LaCroix slipped his awareness along their open link, sifting gently through the emotions he found there. Uneasiness, alarm…and a growing excitement. LaCroix shifted his body gently against Nicholas’s, enjoying his son’s acute awareness of him. The grungy little guitar player may have caught Nicholas’s eye, but he knew how to make his body sing.



LaCroix pulled back, standing smoothly erect. He smiled serenely at Nicholas, who stared at him wide-eyed, his body still bent awkwardly backwards over the counter. “Well, let us see if our guest is ready for dinner, shall we?” He turned and headed for the underground room.



***



They’d fed Vachon another bottle. The small amount of curare would make him easier to manage. Easier, but definitely not easy. He’d had two more fits since sunrise. LaCroix and Nicholas were sleeping in shifts. LaCroix assured his son that the each episode was less intense than the last. LaCroix sighed. He missed his bed. Neither of them had been in peak condition when this started, and it took a great deal of effort to contain the boy. LaCroix was going to have go into Toronto and pick up more blood. He’d already placed several calls, triggering the hypnotic commands he’d placed in the minds of several nurses and doctors. As soon as the sun set, he’d be able to head to Toronto and pick up at least thirty more pints. That should hold them for a while. So he was letting Nicholas sleep. Nicholas had been in dreadful shape prior to Divia’s visit, and she’d badly injured him. LaCroix, though emotionally wounded, was in better shape physically. Nicholas needed to rest. LaCroix would be gone for several hours, and Nicholas would have to care for the half-crazed vampire alone.



Besides, he couldn’t sleep. He kept dreaming of her last words to him. Had he and Nicholas slept together, as they had yesterday, he would have slept peacefully. Somehow, Nicholas had always been able to keep bad dreams from him.



***

Nick watched as LaCroix locked the heavy iron door behind him and lowered the trap door. Nick didn’t know how long his father would be gone. He fingered the key in his pocket, reassuring himself that he wasn’t a prisoner. His master would probably be gone most of the night, securing supplies from several sources. Nick would have been fine on a lot less than he was drinking, but LaCroix insisted and he just wasn’t up to resisting. Besides, he was exhausted, and the extra blood kept him going. He idly wondered if it was comparable to the lift mortals got from caffeine.



Vachon moaned softly. His eyes moved wildly, his lids flickering. Nick braced himself. He’d learned to recognize the signs. Trying not to alarm Vachon, he eased his right arm around his neck and gripped the Spaniard’s left wrist in his left hand, pulling it behind his back. That left his right arm free, but Nick couldn’t help that. He just hoped he wouldn’t lose an eye.



Vachon’s body began to thrash, and Nick tightened his hold, hiding his face against the tangled dark hair to protect his eyes. Vachon’s legs flailed wildly, and his free hand clawed bloody furrows across Nick’s face.



The fit lasted less than ten minutes, which heartened Nick considerably. When his body fell limp, he was actually still conscious. Nick moved to release him, and Vachon moved serpent-quick, grabbing Nick’s right arm and sinking his fangs into his wrist.



Nick swore and yanked at his arm while Vachon gulped huge draughts of his blood. Vachon released him and rolled over, facing him. Nick eyed him, discomfited by his suddenly predatory posture.



Vachon wiped Nick’s blood from his mouth and licked his fingers clean. “Damn Knight…I don’t think I’ve tasted anything quite so good since my Conversion. And here I always thought you’d taste like cow.” Vachon leered at him.



Nick watched the Spaniard uneasily. Vachon was moving towards him like a prowling leopard, his eyes were feverishly bright. Nick glanced down the rest of the nude body, then quickly away, trying not to blush. He scrambled off the rumpled bed.



Vachon grinned, feeling Nick’s sudden surge of desire through their temporary connection. Knight’s blood hummed through him. Divia’s venom was still clouding his reason, or he would have dropped it right then. But he’d tasted Knight, and he wanted the rest. He lunged forward, grabbing Knight’s ankles and yanking his feet out from under him. The older vampire hit the ground with an ‘oof’. Vachon dragged him back on the bed, pinning him down. Knight’s blood had provided him with a temporary surge of strength, making him closer to physically equal.



Nick stared into the wild, hungry dark eyes staring into his own. He could fight Vachon off…after all, he was older and stronger. But he’d have to hurt him, badly. And he’d seen lust like this often in LaCroix and Janette. Hell, he’d felt lust like this often enough himself. Left unsatisfied, it would morph into rage and violence. Vachon needed to take. To dominate.



And the feel of Vachon’s wiry body against his was so good. He’d been celibate for a long time. Nick’s body was relaxing, yielding before he’d made the conscious decision. Vachon grinned hungrily, smugly down at him.



Vachon felt his captive relax, and the tension wound tightly within him uncoiled, just a bit. He slowed down, his hands loosening their grip to roughly caress the body under him. He lifted the torn wrist to his mouth, licking it clean.



He hooked his fingers into the waistband of Knight’s jeans and underwear and tore them away, suddenly craving the feel of skin against skin. He nudged the knees apart, smirking triumphantly when the pale legs spread for him. He pressed his hard cock into Nick’s loins, grinning at the gasp Nick made. Vachon slid his hands under Nick’s sweat shirt, then dragged his nails down his sides, leaving faint red lines. He grabbed the collar of the shirt, ripping that off as well.



Usually, Vachon liked to savor his first time with a lover. But need was riding him too hard. He lifted Nick’s hips and prepared to thrust himself inside.



“Wait!” Nick gasped, trying to squirm away. Vachon snarled, the delicious lust threatening to change into raw rage. Nick felt his own Beast surge, but quelled it. He forced himself to stop inching away, to lay still. Dangerous as Vachon was, he was nothing compared to LaCroix in such as state. That knowledge calmed Nick’s fear, while the memory of LaCroix looming over him made his lust surge sharply.



Vachon’s beast calmed when his prey stopped trying to escape. Nick ran his hands in a slow caress up the arms braced on either side of him. “Wait,” he said again, keeping his tone soft and submissive. “Javier, it’s been a long time for me. Go slow, okay?”



Vachon blinked, some reason penetrating the haze of lust and hunger. “Slow?”



Nick nodded, keeping his eyes lowered, not challenging Vachon by directly meeting his gaze. “Slow and gentle. Please?” He ran his hands around the trim waist and up the back bent over him.



Vachon nodded, bending to lick at the pulsing vein in Nick’s neck, slowly lifting his hips again. Nick sliced his palm open on his own fangs, then wrapped his fingers around Vachon’s hard cock. The blood would make a decent lubricant. And at least the slim Spaniard wasn’t as large as LaCroix.



Vachon growled, thrusting himself into Nick’s bloody palm. He grabbed Nick’s wrist and yanked his arm up, lapping and sucking at the torn skin. “God, so good…” he mumbled against Nick’s wet palm. When Nick’s palm was clean, he released his wrist and gripped Nick’s hips, shifting him into position.



Obediently, Nick lifted his hips, murmuring in Vachon’s ear, “I’m yours. Take me. I won’t fight you. But please, go slow.”



The dominant force in control of Vachon responded to Nick’s submission, becoming a little gentler. Despite his desperate lust, he slowly eased into the sweetly pliant body under him.



Nick moaned and arched his back. God, he’d needed someone inside him like this. Needed to be taken. He moved with Vachon, kissing him hungrily. Vachon growled his pleasure, glorying in his power and dominance, riding the submissive creature under him. Nick gasped as Vachon began to move faster, harder. He hadn’t expected the gentleness to last. He’d just needed it to last long enough for him to adjust. Now he was ready, his long-deprived body welcoming Vachon’s pounding thrusts and sharp kisses.



Vachon stared into Nick’s burning golden eyes. God, he was good! He moved under him like a dream, matching himself to Vachon’s rhythm, his body tightening at the perfect moments, squeezing Vachon’s aching cock with exquisite pressure. Nick’s head turned to the right, offering Vachon his throat. Vachon threw back his head and howled triumphantly, then struck, drinking desperately. His orgasm struck, and he pumped his seed into Nick, laying claim to his body.



Nick felt the fangs in his throat, the cold seed spilling into him. He thrust himself harder onto Vachon’s cock, turning his head to bury his face in Vachon’s neck. He tore at Vachon’s throat, gulping his blood. The taste of Vachon’s orgasm burned through him, triggering his own. He let out a choked moan, his seed smearing both of their bellies as he came. He fell on the bed, totally spent and blissfully relaxed.

Vachon emerged from his haze of lust and thirst, licking at the torn throat under his mouth. He hadn’t come so hard since…since…well, in a long time. He wondered if it had been as good for Nick…Nick?! Vachon gasped and wrenched himself upright, staring down in shock. He was between Nick’s spread legs, his softening cock buried in his *elder’s* ass. Only Nick’s blissful smile stopped him from panicking.



Vachon glanced around, and spotted a bottle. He gingerly eased himself away from (and out of) Nick, and picked up the bottle. “Uh, Nick, you thirsty?”



Nick laughed, a soft throaty laugh that made Vachon shiver. He’d had no idea this sensual man was buried under the uptight Detective. The blonde pulled himself into a sitting position. Vachon offered him the bottle, letting his elder have the first draught, though his mouth felt parched. Nick took a swallow and passed it back. “Go ahead and finish it, Javier. You need it.”



Vachon tried to control his response, but Nick’s voice saying his first name played over his body and down frayed nerves. He emptied the bottle, then glanced around.



“Nick, where are we?” He surreptitiously covered himself with the sheet. “Are we…prisoners?” Suddenly he wondered if there were Enforcers somewhere watching them fuck like…like…an adequate comparison escaped him.



Nick didn’t seem to notice his sudden modesty, but he also seemed oblivious to his own nudity. Vachon began to wonder if Nick was on drugs. Hell, if they were *both* on drugs. Detective Knight’s usual dress would fit right into an Amish community. Detective Knight did *not* lounge around in the nude making conversation.



“Javier, relax. We’re completely safe.”



“Um…we’re locked in a jail cell.”



“Do you remember anything about the last few days?”



Vachon tried to recall anything that would account for him being in his current situation. He wished those sapphire eyes would stop studying him. “Well…there was that scary little girl…” his eyes widened as it began to come back to him. “Urs…she got Urs?” Nick nodded, looking sad. “And Tracy…staked me?” Vachon stared down at the puckered pink scar over his heart. Nick nodded again. “The girl, she’s dead, Vachon.”



“Tracy…is Tracy okay?”



Nick nodded, glad to have *some* good news. “She’s okay. LaCroix whammied her, so she doesn’t remember staking you. She thinks you moved on.”



“Why didn’t you just tell her where I was? Or is your secret really that precious?” Vachon winced at his tone. He hadn’t meant to sound so bitter. But Urs…God, his sweet Urs.



Nick shook his head, “Not that important…but I didn’t want to tell her you were alive, in case…you didn’t make it.” He shrugged. “This way…if you ended up okay, you can tell her you changed you mind. If you didn’t…at least she didn’t have to deal with your death twice.”



Vachon nodded awkwardly. “Sorry, Knight…it’s just...”



“I know. It’s okay.”



“So, where are we anyway?”



“We’re on a farm about two hours from Toronto. LaCroix owns this place.”



Vachon eyed the books and the collection of CDs. “You two planning on me being here a long time?” In fact, the whole room was too nice to have been put together on such short notice.



Nick shook his head. “LaCroix built this place with me in mind.”



Vachon stared at Nick. The whole idea creeped him out, but it didn’t seem to bother Nick. “He was planning on locking you down here?”



Nick shrugged. “I don’t know if ‘planning’ is exactly right. Just…preparing for that eventuality.”



“Is it just the afterglow talking, or does this really not bug you?” Vachon clamped his mouth shut. He really hadn’t meant to mention *that*, not yet anyway.



Nick shrugged again. “In a way it does. But it wouldn’t be the first time. I guess I’ve come to expect it from him.”



“Does he do this a lot?” Vachon struggled to keep his voice neutral. He knew that Nick and LaCroix had a strained relationship, but the thought that LaCroix would quite willingly lock Nick down here made very uncomfortable. Still, he'd always been curious about the way other vampires treated their fledglings, since he’d known his master barely 10 hours before she walked into the sun.



Nick studied his interlocked fingers. “Not a lot, no. Only when he considers me a danger to myself.” Nick thought about it. “Or when he’s really pissed.”



“It’s pretty nice, considering. I mean, if you’re gonna be locked up…” Vachon’s voice trailed off.



Nick grinned. “LaCroix doesn’t believe in wasting time. Being locked in a cell—or chained to a wall—is no excuse for laziness.”



Vachon stared incredulously. “He’s chained you to a *wall*?”



Nick didn’t seem overly bothered. “Yeah…usually when he was trying to punish me, rather than just restrain me.”



“There’s a difference?” Being locked in a tiny underground room, no matter how well-appointed, seemed like a punishment to Vachon.



“You grew up in the Americas, right?” Nick asked. Vachon nodded. “Well, the New World was still pretty much a wilderness. Fledglings had room to learn by trial and error. Mistakes were fairly easily contained, and consequences were not too disastrous. Europe was a *lot* different. Vampire hunters had been around for a while when LaCroix made me. And there are few bigger risks to the Code than fledglings. In fact, lots of the major cities had ruling Elders who forbade making new vampires unless you got their *express* permission. So a lot of masters built rooms like this for their fledglings. Sort of like nurseries, I guess. I spent most of my first decade in rooms like this, unless I was under direct supervision.” Nick shook himself out of the past. Vachon was disappointed. He’d always known there were differences in the customs and practices of Old World vampires, but he’d seldom found anyone willing to talk about them.



“Anyway, now that you’re lucid again, you shouldn’t have to stay much longer. Maybe just a few more days, to make sure you’re completely free of Divia’s taint.” Nick stood. “I’m going to go get cleaned up and bring us both some dinner. Will you be okay for a few minutes alone?” Vachon nodded, his eyes averted from Nick’s nude body. Nick gathered up the shreds of his clothes and padded upstairs on bare feet. Less than ten minutes later, Nick reentered the cell, clean and dressed. He was carrying a bucket of hot water and several blood packets. He also had a terrycloth robe over his shoulder.



Vachon eyed the bucket. “Have you two been giving me sponge baths?” Vague memories of soothing voices and gentle hands floated at the edge of his mind.



Nick nodded. “Tracy buried you. You were pretty grungy. Of course, you may have started out that way.” Nick grinned. Vachon huffed and took the bucket, grateful when Nick politely turned his back without him having to ask. He used the soapy water to cleanse the evidence of violence and sex from his body. Nick, his back still turned, handed Vachon the bathrobe. “Thanks,” he muttered, cinching the belt tight. Absurdly, he felt better now that he was dressed again, even though Nick—and Nick’s master—had seen him naked. The thought of Nick’s ancient and very scary master bathing his unconscious, naked body gave Vachon the willies. Nick snipped the corner off of a blood packet, letting the blood trickle into a pair of beautiful crystal water glasses. When Vachon raised an eyebrow, Nick shrugged. “LaCroix has a thing about table manners.” Vachon drank thirstily, finishing two packets before he felt satisfied.



“So, where is your old man?”



“He’s out picking up more blood. Thanks to Divia, most of the Community is still in hiding, so he had to use some of his other contacts. You’ve been going through more than six pints a day.” Nick hesitated for a moment. “I know you’re curious about it…but don’t mention Divia to LaCroix, or ask about her.”



“Touchy subject?”



“You have no idea.”



Vachon nodded. “So, Nick…any chance I could get a toothbrush?” Nick laughed and went to find one.