We Don't Die

Chapter title: Children of the Night

Chapter rating: R

Musical Inspiration: Papercut by Linkin Park







Flashback, 1982



Donald sighed and rotated his head around on his shoulders. It was fuckin’ good to be home from work. It was already mid-morning. God, the first thing he was going to do was take a damn shower, then maybe order a pizza. He sat down on the bed to tug off his shoes and then he felt the presence.



He glanced up, startled, at the sight of a completely silent Mac clothed in his usual black ensemble and standing in the doorway to the bedroom. He wasn’t as impassive as he usually was, though; all exposed skin was astoundingly red, his hair looked slightly dried out, and he seemed like he was in a lot of pain. He was alternating between panting silently and pausing to grit his teeth and wince. Donald stood; if Mac had forgotten his umbrella on a scorcher like today, it must be serious. “Whoa, easy! Where’s the fire?”



Mac put his hands on his knees and wheezed, and Donald stared worriedly at him. “Can I get you some water or anything? Do, uh… hell, do you even drink water?”



“Ice in a glass would be fine. And a clean dishtowel if you’ve got one handy.” Mac turned and went back out into the living room and slumped on the couch. It was then that Donald noticed Mac’s umbrella lying in the middle of the living room floor, and his eyes widened. It had probably only taken mere minutes for Mac to make the trek from his building to Donald’s, while wearing long sleeves and long pants and a hooded overcoat and carrying a black umbrella, and he’d still turned tomato red. With the way he’d apparently rushed to make the trip, Donald doubted that his friend had paused to slap on some sunscreen, the idiot.



Donald went into the kitchen for the ice and the towel, taking a roundabout route to make sure all the blinds and curtains were closed. “How’d you get in, if you don’t mind me askin’? I know I haven’t given you a key, but I think I probably will soon.”



Mac waited until he had the ice before answering. “I picked the lock on your door.” He wrapped a few cubes in the towel and pressed it to one side of his neck, cooling his blood. “Sorry, but I didn’t want to announce my presence if I was too late.”



Donald froze. “Too late for what?”



Face still pained, Mac gestured to the nearby armchair and Donald sat, and Mac sighed. “I’m sorry, Don. That witness you asked me to watch, that rented an apartment in my building? I… they came for her today, while I was asleep. They’re good. As far as I can tell, they left no trace of themselves in the room but I found a few hairs near the window that I think belong to a werewolf. There was so much blood, the smell woke me up. God, I… I haven’t seen anything that brutal since the war.”



Donald went pale. “They got Tiffany Fairlane? And you think it was a werewolf that did it? Fuck, Mac, I don’t think I have to remind you that it’s midday and it’s really fuckin’ hot outside!” Werewolves didn’t like heat and daylight, and it was rare for one to shift into the beast-man form any time except during a full moon. A werewolf that could shift at will was a strong one indeed.



“Oh believe me, I know,” Mac nodded quickly, “but she’s dead, and she has been for what I’d estimate to be about three hours. There’s so much blood, it’s like they cut her open and spun her around in circles. I couldn’t even tell where the wounds were on the body.” He moved the now-damp cloth to the back of his neck.



Donald buried his face in his hands. “They got Tiffany Fairlane. They got her boyfriend. They got her cousin. Everybody who’s willing to testify in the Felker murder is dead. Jesus, Mac… nobody is gonna point a finger at these guys now.”



“I would, if I knew what they looked like.” Mac’s eyes were hard as he stared at the human. “Don… the reason I came straight here is that I believe they’ll come for you. You’ve been the biggest thorn in this killer’s side from day one.”



If Donald had been pale before, he could now be called pure white. “A werewolf assassin sent after me?”



Mac gave a slow nod. “I’m glad Maggie and Donnie and Ricky are out of state right now.”



“I am, too.” Donald sagged into the chair and stared at the ceiling. “Why mutilate the body? Why not drink all that blood?”



“I’ve been thinking about that. I know that when a werewolf takes a contract, they consider it beneath them to feed on a mark. Besides, every time a werewolf bites, he or she leaves behind saliva and the teeth impressions. Those teeth impressions can be matched, and I’ve been hearing talk about how scientists are trying to make machines that can read DNA and match it. As for the mutilation of the body—dead or alive—it was probably to prevent any use of a necropath to ask who killed her.”



“The dead-speakers.”



“Exactly.” Mac leaned forward. “This killer expected the NYPD to use supernatural means to investigate the crime, which tells me that they live their lives on the more supernatural side. My guess is one of the vampire clans is your Felker murderer. They’ve been known to employ werewolves since they’re less affected by daylight.”



“But which one? The Italians? The Russians? The Greeks, or the Japanese, or the Irish? One of those low-brow gangs?”



“I don’t know,” Mac admitted. “I do know this: they killed in my block, in my building. No other supernatural has set foot in my territory ever since I claimed it, except for a few different ‘paths. And they know I’m keeping an eye on them.” He stretched his fangs out briefly, running his tongue over them before retracting them again. “I’m in something of a unique position, Don. My territory is prime stomping grounds and I defend it to the death, and now I have human law enforcement on my side. With the exception of clan leaders and maybe a few nobles, none of the clans I know of around here can boast a vampire that’s willing to tangle with me. I may be young, but the one who made me is very old, and that counts for something.”



Donald gave a weak smile. “And lucky for you, none of those nobles and clan leaders can be bothered to come out there and do you themselves.”



“Exactly.” Mac’s brow furrowed in thought. “This may have nothing to do with your case, except to make good and sure that I noticed it. This could be about nothing but me. I did kinda claim that block without asking for it, but fortunately it was on a border of two clans and they didn’t want to send any of their people to fight a third party for one measly city block. And in a way, it kinda works for me: no one clan’s going to send too many people because if they go too far out of the way, they’re trespassing in the other clan’s territory.”



Donald sighed. “Never thought bein’ a vamp would be so damn complicated.”



“And here I was thinking the same thing about humans.” Mac gave a small smile that was rather self-amused. “I don’t get into pissing contests… and besides, I don’t piss.”



Donald snorted, and then an idea occurred to him and he cocked his head. “You know, why didn’t you just call me? It would’ve been easier.”



Mac shook his head. “Phone lines are down for repairs in my building, and I can’t exactly stand in a phone booth in broad daylight.” He cocked his head as a thought occurred to him. “That reminds me, I’ve been approached by some more people wanting investors in their company.”



“Oh, not again,” Donald groaned. “What are you financing this time, more crap like that DNA-reading thingy? And while I’m at it, did you ever hear back from that stupid fruit company?”



“It’s not fruit, Don. The company’s called Apple. They’re making these machines where you can write and save your work and come back later, and there’s a screen that… oh, never mind.” Mac leaned back on the couch and smiled. He liked new technology. It was exciting. “Anyway, these latest people have this idea where they can make wireless telephones for everybody and not just for the military. Think about it, Don: your own personal telephone. No wires, no phone poles, just call from anywhere in the network.”



Donald looked at him like he’d sprouted wings. “Are you nuts? How the hell do you have telephones without wires?”



Mac outright grinned. “Satellites.”



Donald pointed a finger up, indicating the airspace beyond the roof of his building. “Satellites? Like in space? How the… oh, I give up. You’re insane. You’re gonna go broke one of these days, investin’ in all this stupid shit.”



“No, I’m going to go broke buying your lunch every night.” Mac was still grinning. “But that’s going to be stopping in just a few months.”



“I’ll shit bricks if you don’t pass the detectives exam,” Donald said by way of agreement. Mac’s rookie days were coming to a close. “I still can’t believe that… your first bust, your very first, and he was the Captain’s son.”



“I can’t believe I’m not still directing traffic,” Mac said honestly, face twisted in a wry smile. “Thanks for settling the score on that one, Don.”



“Hey, I wanted my partner back. And the department hired a vampire; what good were you doin’ wavin’ white gloves around?” Donald’s face became a little more serious. “You were doin’ the right thing, and I’m honestly ashamed of the fact that I almost told you to take the cuffs off and let ‘im go. I just didn’t want you to get that kind of heat so early in your career. God knows you get enough shit already.”



Mac nodded and sighed. He hadn’t exactly been welcomed with open arms when he’d put on the badge, and while there were obviously many people on the force that hated him simply because he was a vampire, at least those people were a lot quieter about it. He was slowly starting to earn the respect of his fellow police officers, and was gaining a reputation as a guy that did what was right no matter the consequences.



Donald spoke up again. “I gotta say, one of the best things ‘bout workin’ with you is that I’m learnin’ so much shit from ya. I thought vamps couldn’t trespass.”



“Incubi and succubae can, and so can psychic vampires. It’s a rather obscure bloodline of Dracula-types that have a problem with it. The vampiric gene pool is spread pretty far and wide, just like humans, and not all of us follow the same rules.” Mac snorted. “Besides, I’d make a lousy cop if I could only enter someone’s home if I was invited.”



Donald had to laugh at that one. “Yeah, what’s the point of havin’ a vamp in front of a SWAT team if he can’t even go through the front door?” He held a thumb and forefinger out like a gun and lifted his voice. “NYPD! If you’re gonna run, run this way! Or say I can come in! Please?”



Mac chuckled at that one, and then another thought occurred to him and he gave a single laugh. “You know, this is interesting."



“How’s that?”



Mac was still smiling. “I… I’ve never enjoyed vampire jokes before.”



“That’s ‘cause I’m not makin’ fun of ya. I just wanna know, and you look like a guy that hasn’t had a good laugh in a couple centuries.”



This time Mac threw his head back and laughed. “Centuries, huh? You think all vampires are automatically two, three hundred years old?”



Donald crossed his arms. So Mac had laughed… and the toothy bastard had laughed at him. “Alright, smart guy, then enlighten me. How old are you?”



Mac started to calm down. “You should already have a ballpark figure, Don, or didn’t you pay attention in civics class? I told you, I served in World War II but I Turned before I could go to Korea. That’s a five-year window for me Turning.” And then he realized what he’d said. “Civics class, God. The things I have lived through are already considered history.”



“But you didn’t tell me how old you were before you went to war,” Donald pointed out. So history hadn’t been his favorite class, so sue him.



Mac gave him a gently condescending look. “Take a good look, Don. This is what I looked like when I Turned. As long as I keep well-fed, I won’t age.”



Donald took a good long look. “Look like you’re early, mid-thirties.”



“I was thirty-one,” Mac supplied calmly. “Almost thirty-two.”



The human did some mental math. “So you’re goin’ on sixty?”



Mac nodded. “I’m at the age where I start to get a little embarrassed about it just because of the number. I guess you could say that I don’t follow the rules that other vampires do.”



“Yeah, no shit.” Donald finally took another swig of his beer, and it was a long one. Mac didn’t comment.



The incubus was quietly thoughtful for a moment. “Age is a key factor of a vampire’s power. The longer one has lived, the stronger they are. They get faster, more resistant to their so-called ‘allergies’ to silver or garlic or sunlight. And the older they are, usually the less likely they are to care about anyone else.” He snorted. “It’s hard to be humble when you can stop heavy artillery with your bare hands.”



Donald’s eyebrows hit the ceiling. “Can you?”



Mac shrugged. “I’ve never tried, but I know one or two who can.”



Donald took that at face value and there was quiet for a long moment. Donald’s mind kept returning to the werewolf that might be after him and his family, and then his thoughts were jarred to the present by Mac clearing his throat.



“Don… I have a confession to make. It’s something I think you should know.”



Donald cocked his head. “What’s that?”



Mac took a heavy breath, sighed, and stared at the tiny cracks in the blinds over the windows. “I have a split personality.”



“Do what?”



“It’s true. All vampires do.” Mac still wasn’t looking at him. “The first personality is the one that the vampire was born with. I guess you could refer to it as the human side, although to actually call it that would insult some humans and some vampires. That’s this personality. That’s my human side.”



Quietly sensing that this wasn’t going to be pretty, Donald solemnly asked, “And the other one?”



Mac’s eyes closed briefly, and then kept looking at the window with that hard gaze. “Instinct. A vampire’s natural instincts. There’s very little logic, very little thinking. It’s all animal responses, like the desire to feed or the fight-or-flight response or the desire to protect something or someone. If the instinct ever gets a hold on my senses, even just a little foothold, I become like some impulsive beast that just happens to be capable of speech.”



Donald decided that the best way to go about this would be to just wait, and eventually Mac kept going. “Nearly every vampire I’ve ever met so far, once they live long enough and they get used to the idea of what they are, they let their personalities merge. It’s why they’re usually so violent and unreasonable. They’re intelligent but still territorial, still like possessive animals. What sets me apart from most other vampires is that I don’t give in to my instinct. I suppress it religiously. And I do that because… because of the one who made me.”



Donald had never heard Mac talk about his Turning before, and sensed that he probably wouldn’t talk about it again any time in Donald’s lifetime. “What was, uh, he or she like?”



Mac didn’t appear to have heard him, his face still turned to the window and as unyielding as granite. His eyes were hard, though, so hard… “I swore three things, Don. Those three things are what’s kept me going all these years. I swore that I would never let myself become like my Sire, drunk on age and power. I swore that I would never lose myself to the instinct…” and Donald almost didn’t hear the whispered word tacked on the end that sounded a lot like ‘again.’ “And I swore that one day, in one single instance in my existence—maybe days, maybe years, maybe centuries down the line…” and here he finally turned to face the human, and Donald nearly flinched at the way Mac’s eyes looked so dead. “I swore that one day I would kill him.”



And what could Donald say to that? He held Mac’s gaze for as long as he was able, trying not to judge him or to ask him painful questions.



Finally Mac sighed and looked away again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… to be so—“



“Hey, it’s all right. I’m glad for the info and it’s good that you could get it off your chest.” Donald contemplated his partner for a moment and let a grin quirk the corners of his mouth. “You need a place to sleep, old man? I think I’ve got a suitcase big enough to hold you.”



Mac gave him an incredulous look and suddenly burst out laughing. “I’ll be fine if I can borrow a bedroom with no windows, Don.”



“You sure? It’s one of those old train cases that women used to use to transport their entire closets in. Nice and roomy.” The detective wiggled his brows and smiled like a cheesy salesman.



Mac held up a hand, trying to keep his face straight. “No, really, I’m fine. I don’t sleep in a box.”



Donald actually looked disappointed. “Well, there goes that joke, then.”



“What joke?”



Donald snorted. “Next time I saw you and ya looked really grumpy, I was gonna ask if you’d crawled out of the wrong side of the coffin that evening.”



Mac blinked at him, finally cracked a smile, and then leaned back and laughed harder than he’d laughed in a long time.









Even years down the road, that conversation stuck with Mac. It was like Donald had accepted that Mac was a vampire and that was that. Donald was Irish-Italian and liked pizza and beer and enjoyed a good hockey game or baseball game. Mac liked science and he was from Chicago and he was an incubus. You need a place to sleep, old man? I think I’ve got a box big enough for you to sleep in until you can get back to your coffin. When you wake up, you wanna watch a game with me?



Donald treated Mac like he was a human but of a different race. Fill in the corresponding circle on the bottom of the job application: White, Hispanic, American Indian, African-American, Asian, Vampire, Other.



Everyone else, though, looked at Mac like he was one of the Things That Go Bump In The Night. He fed off their blood, remember? He was a monster. They had to keep their eyes on him lest he catch them unawares and throw them to the ground and take something vital from them and steal their wives and corrupt their children and send their souls to Hell… or something. While the thought of feeding off blood was no more of an issue to some people than donating it, the majority saw it as something distasteful, something unholy or blasphemous; it was their blood and he couldn’t have it and he was some sort of hideous parasite and he wasn’t gonna latch on to their throat while they still had a breath in their bodies. He was going to live until something managed to kill him. Get thee behind me, Satan.



Was Mac still a human? He wasn’t really sure how to answer that. He still had two legs and two arms, walked upright, slept in a bed and shaved his face. He had a job. He thought and he spoke and he learned, just like other people. He was a productive member of society. Prick him, did he not bleed?



Mac was physically indistinguishable from a human as long as he was careful and nobody took more than a passing glance at him. Sure he was pale, but he worked nights.



It was one reason Mac loved science so much. He longed for the day when they finally understood vampirism on a scientific level, finally figured out what made Mac tick and how what he did was biologically accomplished. Mac didn’t like questions he couldn’t answer, and he had shamefully resorted to trying not to think about vampirism too much. It would drive him insane. He fed off the sexual pleasure of other people. How, exactly, did that work? Some sort of psychic transfer of energy? And that opened up a whole other metaphysical can of worms; psychics and energy transfer and people that could predict the future. Yes, all those different ‘paths did exist, but… but how?



Not breathing was another example. Did he not require oxygen going from the air in his lungs to his bloodstream to be carried throughout his body and keep his brain alive, to nourish his various cells and organs? As far as he knew, his brain was the only thing that really suffered if blood flow was cut off. He’d volunteered to help an underwater recovery unit one time, and had gone diving in the Hudson wearing nothing but a swim mask over his eyes and fins to help propel himself through the water and a wet suit because he didn’t want to subject his clothing to that kind of indignity. Other divers had been wearing tanks and regulators and other sorts of SCUBA gear. Mac had just stopped breathing for the five hours he’d been down there. And yeah, it turned out that he got the bends, too.



Physically, it was like everything his body required was derived from the blood and other non-waste body fluids he drank. Oxygen, nutrients, vitamins and minerals, the works. So what part did sexual pleasure play in it? And why were there different types of vampirism, like the psychic vampires and the stereotypical Dracula-types or the necro-psychics? Why couldn’t a necro-psychic feed off sex? Why couldn’t an incubus or succubus subsist on nothing but blood?



It was as great a mystery as the legend of the incubus itself. Throughout ‘mythological’ history, the incubus was a demon that visited sleeping women in the middle of the night to have sex with them, both feeding on their pleasure and spawning young incubi and succubae. Some believed that the incubus was a creation of the medieval Church to guilt young women who were preoccupied with thoughts of sex and sinning, and also as an explanation for nocturnal arousal. It was said that too many visits from an incubus could end up killing the woman, and that they always visited in sleep and lay on top of the victim. Thus, the word incubus was derived from the Latin preposition in (“on top”) and the word cubo (“I lie”), which when used together literally meant ‘I lie on top.’



In the same vein, adding the prefix sub to cubo resulted in the word succubus, which meant ‘I lie underneath.’ Mac felt that it was a rather unfortunate generic term, since he’d known a few succubae who rather preferred to be on top… but that was a matter of personal preference instead of genetics.



Of course, since it involved ‘demons,’ the Church came up with five main methods of combating incubi and succubae: exorcism, the Sign of the Cross, Sacramental Confession, moving the victim to a ‘safer’ location, or simply finding the ‘host body’ of the demon and excommunicating them. Even in those days, though, there were men of the Church who noted that ‘holy’ attacks did nothing to the incubus, and that incubi were immune to holy water and crosses. Being struck with a cross that happened to be made of silver was another story. It wasn’t the power of God, but rather an immediate and extremely painful skin allergy.



Mac wasn’t sure of the exact date but he figured that it was within a few hundred years of his birth that people began to realize that incubi were not demons but vampires. So many different and varied legends existed of the various ‘children of the night’ that it was often hard to tell what was what, but there came the occasional report of people that had interrupted feeding incubi and succubae and, upon examining the host or hostess, noticed the puncture wounds on the neck that the creature hadn’t had a chance to close. It was only after enough such cases had been researched that the incubus and the succubus began to be classified as vampires.



The vast majority of the world’s vampire population was composed of Dracula-types, with psychic vampires being a very minor second. Truthfully incubi and succubae were rather rare, probably because it was much harder for them to Turn humans than other breeds. All a Dracula had to do was drink almost enough blood to kill the host and then force the dying human to drink almost all of the vampire’s blood, trading it back and forth until the Turning was complete. One rather obscure strain of Dracula-types could Turn simply by biting the same human one too many times, and the Turning came about more like a fast-moving disease.



The way an incubus Turned a human was… odd. Mac had never Turned a human, he’d only witnessed the act once at his own Turning, and he had no intentions of forcing anyone else to become one of his species. He also had no idea how a psychic vampire Turned a human. Even less was known about them than about incubi.



“Hey.”



Mac blinked and looked up at Donald, who was standing over him and had nudged his shoulder. “Just so ya know,” Donald began, “you’re shedding all over the couch.”



Mac blinked some more and looked down at his hands. Due to his supernatural regenerative abilities, his ‘sunburn’ had already mostly healed. The bad part was that his skin had started peeling already. His face and hands were practically raining dried skin cells, and Mac had been so far into his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed.



“Oh, I’m sorry.” Mac started to get to his feet, then paused and handed his friend the ice and towel first. He paused to think and then sighed, and then Donald held him an empty garbage bag. “Thanks. Can’t go outside to shake it off, not right now.”



Donald tried not to stare as his partner popped open the bag and then stuck his arms, head, and shoulders completely inside it. The bag thrashed for several minutes, and when Mac came topside again his skin was mostly pale again but with a few peels here and there. “Missed a few spots,” he said calmly. Mac sighed and repeated the process, and when he was done he stood and went to throw it away while Donald brought out the vacuum cleaner. Mac was mortified, but Donald waved him off. “Go find somewhere to sleep,” he shouted calmly over the roar of the machine.



Mac wandered off in the direction of the bedroom, and when Donald was done he put the vacuum up and went to his own bedroom, where Mac was pressed flat against the wall and had draped his overshirt over one hand while checking the window lock, and Mac was wincing at the sunlight beating into the shirt. When he was done with whatever he was doing he let his hand drop and the blinds tapped against the sill again, and Mac gave a sigh of relief.



Donald lifted an eyebrow. “So where you gonna park it?”



“In here.”



Donald blinked. “Uh… no offense, Mac, but there’s only one person I share a bed with and you’re not her.”



“Not with you,” Mac growled. “I’ll take the floor. You sleep in the bed.”



Donald saw the look in Mac’s eyes and gave up. “Can I at least take a piss?”



Mac blinked. “Oh. Yeah. Sure. Forgot that you have to do that every once in a while.”



Donald shook his head at his partner and padded to the bathroom to get himself ready for bed, and when he was brushing his teeth he glanced over and saw Mac standing in the doorway but with his back turned. Jesus. He was taking this werewolf threat very seriously. Don finished and rinsed his mouth out and paused to regard Mac’s broad back, the way it looked like his hands were clasped together in the front like a bouncer at a club, head tilted slightly as though paying strict attention to his incredibly sensitive hearing.



Donald watched him a moment longer, and then Mac murmured, “need me to close the door?”



Don snorted. “Nah.” He turned to the john and took one last leak, flushed, washed his hands again, and as he stepped to the doorway Mac started moving automatically to the bedroom. “Gotta say, Mac,” he began.



Mac paused. “What?”



Donald stepped past him and took off everything but his shorts and undershirt. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt safer in my life.”



The human glanced over at his partner and saw the soft smile tugging at the corners of Mac’s mouth. “Thanks,” he murmured, and he closed the door and then slid off his pants and lay on his side with his back against the wooden surface, wadding the garment under his head as a pillow. Nobody would be getting through this door without his knowledge. He saw Don start to say something and held up a silencing hand. “Don’t try to talk me out of it. You’ve already tried, and my answer won’t change. Just go to sleep.”



“All right,” Donald sighed. He slid into bed and flicked out the lights, and silence descended.









Mac was awake even before he realized why. “Don!” he hissed, and the way the bedcovers flew off Donald’s body let Mac know just how on-edge his friend was.



“What’s up?” Donald whispered back.



Mac held up a finger for quiet, listening hard and taking deep breaths for scent. “Footsteps, outside the front door. More than one. Smells like…”



“Don? We’re home!” Maggie’s voice called.



Both men jumped, then relaxed. “Mags?” Donald called back.



Maggie’s footsteps came down the hall and Donald was suddenly and absurdly aware of the fact that he was alone with his bisexual incubus partner in the bedroom, while his wife and kids were out of town, and both of them were wearing nothing but shorts and undershirts. Mac seemed to realize the same thing and was jerking on his pants in the blink of an eye. Donald had just gotten his feet into the holes when Maggie opened the bedroom door. She froze instantly at the sight of Mac, and her gaze flew to her mostly undressed husband.



Silence.



Mac spoke before either of the Flacks could. “Maggie, listen. I swear on the badge, on the Marine Corps, on this country, that this is not what it looks like. I would never betray your trust or his trust or the trust of your children like that. If you ever find proof that I’m lying, I give you full permission to shoot me.” His voice was that same forced-calm that Donald recognized as when Mac had talked down a man who’d been planning to jump off a roof a couple of weeks ago.



Donald thought it was a wise choice, considering the circumstances. “Mags?” he began slowly. “There was a problem at work. Somebody might be after me. Mac didn’t want to take any chances, and until you woke him up he was asleep on the floor right in front of the door. Mags, I would not do that to you. I swear on the lives of our kids, understand? I know what it looks like, but I promise you, nothing happened.”



Mac dropped to one knee and pressed his hand to the carpet. “See, it’s still warm right here. And if you felt the bed, you’d find only one warm spot. I swear. I was just worried about Don and I wanted to be here just in case.”



“Just in case what?” Maggie finally asked in a somewhat exasperated tone.



Well, since they were being honest, why stop now? Mac nodded to Donald, passing the ball, and Donald took it. “Mags, there was a murder that we’ve been working on, and the last witness to the crime was scared so we had her rent a place in Mac’s building. Well, they got her anyway, and it was pretty nasty. So Mac wanted to come here just in case I was next.” He gave his partner a fond look. “I offered him the couch, I offered him the kids’ rooms, I offered to dig out my old sleeping bag, but he didn’t care. He just slept on the floor so that nobody could open the door without him knowin’ it.”



Mac looked a little sheepish at that, and then his brows furrowed. “Where are the boys?”



Maggie looked puzzled and glanced behind her. She barely got the words “that’s funny…” out of her mouth before Mac zipped past her and stood in the middle of the living room, scenting carefully.



Donald finished yanking his pants on and stood. “Mac?” he grunted, his throat suddenly dry.



Mac cocked his head, furrowed his brows, and turned on his heel and headed for Donnie’s room, and there was a pair of childish squeals and a thump.



Donald was already moving with Maggie behind him, and they froze in the doorway at the sight of Mac against the wall with his hands raised defensively, and both little boys thrusting Popsicles at his face. Apparently upon entering the apartment they’d made a beeline for the freezer in the kitchen. “Donnie, Ricky,” Mac pleaded, “I can’t eat those!”



“It’s good, Uncle Macky!” Donnie insisted, jumping surprisingly high and trying to shove it all in. Young Ricky took the opportunity to grab the giant stuffed Elmo that his grandparents had given him and attempted to bean his brother with it, and the war was on.



They boys were instantly ‘sword-fighting’ with their Popsicles, Donnie definitely winning as his opponent wasn’t two years old yet, and little chunks of frozen sugar water were flying everywhere. Mac tried to take them away and almost got a stick up the nose for his efforts, and he took another step back. It was clear to the Flacks that Mac wanted them to stop but wasn’t sure how he could accomplish it. It would be far too easy for a vampire with his strength to accidentally hurt one or both of them.



The Popsicle sticks were abandoned as the ‘ammunition’ was beaten off, and the sticks were dropped and the boys grabbed their respective Sesame Street plushes and held them in front of themselves and started running into each other… or rather Ricky just stood there and Donnie tried to mow him down. The toys were nearly as big as the children and offered plenty of padding, and they crashed into each other and tumbled backward laughing before standing up to do it again.



Mac was instantly worried that Ricky would get hurt and he saw his chance and darted forward, wrapping his arms around both the children and the toys and lifting them up into the air. They squealed gleefully as he made a loud comical roaring noise and stepped forward to dump them carefully on the bed. They tugged at his arms and he pretended to be pulled down, and they both climbed up on his back and started jabbing fingers into his sides. “I’m not ticklish!” Mac protested, and they merely doubled their efforts.



Mac suddenly jerked and made a strangled noise when Donnie dug underneath him and started digging his fingers inside the curve of Mac’s hipbone. “Okay, maybe a little!” he amended quickly. He lay flat on his stomach and pressed his arms against his sides, and the boys whined and crawled on his back some more, and he grunted and winced at their knees. He cracked open an eye and saw the Flack adults just staring wide-eyed at him. “Don? Little help here?”



“No fair!” Donnie squealed. He tried to roll Mac’s large and heavy bulk over and when that didn’t work, he resorted to swatting the vampire on the ass, making Mac jump. “Bad Uncle Macky! Roll over!” Ricky just crawled up Mac’s back and started tugging on his hair.



Mac winced and sent a desperate look at his partner. “Don. Seriously. Help?”



Donald couldn’t help it. He clutched his stomach and sagged against the doorframe, laughing his ass off. Even Maggie looked like she was trying to fight back a smile. Eventually Donald caught his breath. “What, you can’t handle a couple of kids by yourself?” he crowed. It was then that he saw the uncertainty in Mac’s eyes, and his smile faded. Mac really was afraid that he might accidentally hurt the boys, as he was a lot stronger than people believed. Donald sighed and clapped his hands. “All right, kids, settle down before you make ‘im cry.”



The boys instantly let out disappointed “awwww!” noises but crawled onto the bed, and after a moment Mac slid backward so his knees hit the floor. His hair was wildly out of place and he smoothed it back. Donnie sent wide glittery blue eyes to the oldest person in the room. “Sorry, Uncle Macky.”



Mac smiled and tousled his hair. “It’s okay. You didn’t hurt me.”



Ricky waved wildly to get his attention. “Unca Macky! Story! Story!”



Donnie apparently thought that was a great idea. “Can you read us a story, Uncle Macky?”



Mac’s eyes widened and his jaw worked soundlessly for a moment, and he sent a helpless look at the Flacks. “Do you mind? I mean, is it okay? I’d like to, and it’ll give you a chance to catch up with Maggie.”



Flack just stared back at him for a moment before uttering a rather surprised “sure.” It was unreal, the change that had come over his partner. Within the span of a few hours Mac had gone from a silent, dedicated protector to a man that was crouching in front of a three-foot-high bookshelf and was running a finger over titles like The Velveteen Rabbit and Charlotte’s Web as seriously as he’d process evidence. Mac started to pick one, glanced back at Ricky, and moved to the lower shelf to grab a Dr. Seuss book.



Maggie was still staring, and Don nudged her. “Wanna take a nap with me, babe, since it’s still daylight out?”



Maggie paused to watch Mac settle on the diminutive bed with the boys to either side of him, both staring eagerly at the brightly colored pages as Mac launched into The Sneetches and Other Stories. Donald tugged on his wife’s hand, and she followed him without another word.



In the bedroom, Donald left the door cracked open and dropped his pants again, and his wife took the time to change into a nightshirt before crawling into bed with him. She was tense, quiet, and Donald sighed. “You still don’t like him, do you?”



Maggie shrugged a shoulder and finally snuggled up close to him. “I guess I’m just used to him by now,” she murmured.



Donald wrapped an arm around her and kissed the top of her head. “You know what? I’m gonna fall asleep now, and I’m gonna do it with you in my arms, and God knows when’s the last time I go to do that since I went on Graveyard. And I’m gonna sleep better knowin’ that Mac is in the other room watchin’ over our kids than I was sleepin’ with him right in front of the door.”



Maggie gave him a squeeze but didn’t say anything else, and after a while she leaned up to kiss him. “I love you.”



Donald smiled and kissed her back. “Love ya, babe.”



She settled back down and they had both drifted off and had been asleep for a few hours when something else occurred to Maggie and brought her back to wakefulness. “Don?”



“Hm?”



“Will Mac be sleeping on our floor for the rest of the day?”



“If you don’t want him to—and I’d kinda understand that—maybe I can get him to take the couch this time.” There was a pause, and then Donald sat bolt upright. “Where is he?”



“Well, last time we saw him, he was…” Maggie trailed off, and as one they climbed out of bed and padded down the hall to the boys’ room, where again they stopped short in the doorway.



Mac was still wearing his pants and his undershirt, and he was laying flat on his back in the built-for-little-boys bed. His feet stuck out rather prominently over the end, and the large toddlers’ book lay facedown over one ankle. Both boys were in his arms, one on each side and snuggled up to his chest, and he had his arms curled over them almost protectively. The boys were sound asleep, and judging from the way Mac’s chest wasn’t moving, the vampire had joined them in slumber.



Donald looked at his wife; what would she do? There was an incubus sleeping with her children, after all.



Maggie stared hard at Mac for a long time and then padded into the room. With the practiced silent movements of a mother she lifted the book from Mac’s ankle. Mac was a pretty light sleeper anyway, and as on-edge as he was with the possible werewolf attack, his eyes instantly popped open and he bared his fangs and his arms seemed to reflexively tighten around the boys. Upon seeing Maggie he closed his mouth and relaxed and just watched her calmly. It was all up to her.



Maggie gave the vampire a long and considering look and then reached to where the blankets were crumpled up on the floor at the foot of the bed. She straightened them and draped them over Mac and his charges, and when she was done he mouthed the words ‘thank you’ at her. She nodded, and bent down to press a kiss to the two tousled little heads before straightening and turning and padding back to the bedroom.



Donald just looked at his partner and then indicated the bed, holding up his hands and making a compressing motion. Mac sent him a Look, and Donald snickered and followed his wife.







Donald’s bedside clock woke him and his wife at the usual time, which was just before sunset. He took a moment to silence the offending machine and then basked in the lazy happiness of having his wife in his arms. He briefly considered re-acquainting himself with her in a more physical fashion, but at the same time he knew that she’d never go for it with Mac still in the apartment. So he kissed her and nudged her gently until she was awake; she wasn’t used to taking naps.



And then Donald realized that he could smell something. Smelled like… food. Why would his apartment smell like food?



“Do I smell hot dogs?” Maggie murmured.



Definitely puzzled, they put on decent clothes and headed cautiously for the kitchen, where they beheld Mac sitting at the kitchen table across from the boys. Mac was still wearing the same pants he’d had on when he’d arrived and had put on his overshirt, but the boys looked like they’d even had a bath and were wearing pajamas as they munched happily on plates of macaroni and cheese with chunks of hot dog.



Don walked over to his kids and gave them both a hug. “Thanks, Mac,” he said cheerfully. He started to head in the direction of the bathroom when he paused to watch Maggie bend over Ricky and kiss him on the head, but she also looked like she was smelling his hair. “Somethin’ wrong, babe?”



Maggie locked eyes with Mac. “They had a bath.” Mac nodded cautiously. “They’re not old enough to do it themselves.”



Mac nodded again. “I helped out. I knew this was around their bedtime so I got them cleaned up and then found something for them to eat. I apologize if it’s not what you had in mind but I’m not much of a cook, so—“



Maggie’s jaw clenched. “You gave our sons a bath.”



Mac blinked and then leaned back in the chair, nostrils flaring like he’d just smelled something unpleasant. “I wasn’t supposed to? You and Don were so stressed that I thought you could use the extra rest.”



Donnie suddenly squeaked. “Ow, Mommy!”



Maggie glanced down and saw that she’d been unconsciously clutching her boys closer to her, and apparently she’d been digging a nail into Donnie’s shoulder. She made a visible effort to calm herself but there was still a hard note in her voice. “You undressed my sons and you—“



Donald put a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “He got ‘em cleaned up and ready for bed, and now he’s feeding ‘em. Aren’t ya, Uncle Macky?”



All of Mac’s humor had faded. He’d gone as quiet as though he was about to reach for his gun, and with perfect calm he slid his chair back and stood. “I should leave. I need a shower myself, and… well, I’ll see you in a couple of hours, Don.”



“Yeah, hang on a sec,” Donald said quietly. “Just… kill some time in the other room for a minute, would ya?”



Mac paused as though considering it, and then he nodded and moved into the living room without making a single sound. Donald knew damn good and well that Mac would still be able to hear every word and he was sure Maggie had a general idea of how good Mac’s hearing was, but he needed to discuss this with his wife now and he didn’t want Mac to leave on a sour note like this. “Mags?” he began quietly.



Maggie looked down at her children and then wrapped her arms around her husband, ostensibly to embrace him but really to put her mouth to his ear. “Don. He got our children naked and he touched them.”



“He didn’t feed from ‘em,” Don growled back.



“How do you know? He doesn’t leave a mark, remember?”



“I just know. Even if it wasn’t Mac, I’d know because I see people all the time that’ve just been fed from and I know what to look for. If he took even a mouthful of blood they’d both be really weak, but they’re just fine. He didn’t bite ‘em, and he didn’t touch ‘em like that.”



“But how do you know?” Maggie hissed again.



“I do this for a livin’, remember?” He sighed and moved to kiss her but she jerked back, and he sighed again and crouched between his sons’ chairs. “Hey guys, can I ask ya somethin’?”



Donnie turned in his chair. “Hi, Daddy.”



“Hey, kiddo. Now, I wanna ask you somethin’ and I want a serious big-boy answer, okay?”



Donnie nodded. “Okay.”



Donald thought of how to phrase it and settled on, “what all did Uncle Macky do after you woke up?”



Donnie grinned. “He made bubbles!”



Donald blinked. “Do what?”



Ricky clapped his hands. “Bubba! Bubba!”



Donnie nodded vigorously. “He used the special bubbles! And he let me wash my booty myself!” The boy then made a face. “He made me do Ricky’s too.”



Donald didn’t have to see his wife to know that her jaw had dropped. Mac had just been trying to help, and he’d taken pains to protect the boys from any awkward situations even as he’d monitored them. “So,” Donald said in a still-calm voice. “Uncle Macky didn’t touch a no-no place?”



Donnie shook his head, and then paused. “Ricky went wee-wee when Uncle Macky put on his diaper. Uncle Macky had to wipe his booty.”



Donald cursed before he could stop himself; here Maggie had started to become the teensiest bit mollified, and then Donnie had dropped the bombshell.



Maggie stepped forward again. “He put on Ricky’s diaper?” she asked quietly.



Donnie nodded. “He does it all the time!” And he broke out into the giggles. “Silly Uncle Macky, he was gonna put me in a diapie until I showed him my new undies! I’m a big boy!”



Maggie put a hand on her husband’s shoulder and Donald tried really hard not to wince at her grip as she murmured, “he changes your diapers?”



Donnie nodded. “Sometimes, when you’re sleepy or worky.”



In the back of his mind, Donald was aware of how completely absurd this whole situation was. Donald didn’t sneak around behind his wife’s back, but his partner snuck around behind Maggie’s back to be with the kids… because he wanted to feed them and wash them and read them stories and tuck them into bed. All completely innocent things, because Donald knew in his core that Mac would never do anything to harm the boys or make them remotely uncomfortable.



And honestly, Donald didn’t mind letting Mac do those things. He trusted Mac around his kids, and sometimes Donald gave his permission just so he could see the tender smile that crossed the vampire’s face. He’d said it, hadn’t he? Mac was family, and up until he’d met the Flacks Mac had thought he’d never get a chance to do things like this.



Mac was a protective person. He protected an entire city on a nightly basis, after all. With Donnie and Ricky, though, Mac was allowed to get up close and personal with two innocent little boys, completely untouched by the world. Mac was allowed to dust off those underused feelings of affection and nurturing and just take care of somebody. Mac had told Donald flat-out that Mac would not be producing any children because he didn’t want to bring half-vampires into a world that would hate them just as much—if not more—than it hated their father.



That had made Donald incredibly sad, and it was starting then that Mac was allowed to sneak around behind Maggie’s back to change a diaper or tuck the kids in bed. And Mac had sworn solemnly that as long as he walked on this planet, he would always watch over Donald’s children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Mac would protect the Flack family until the day he finally died, which would probably be a long, long, long way down the line. The Flacks had given him a family, after all, and Mac was not going to let anything happen to his family.



Maggie gave a heavy sigh and released her husband’s shoulder. “I… overreacted, didn’t I?”



Donald stood and looked at his wife, pausing to tousle Donnie’s head and then turn the boy back to his dinner. “I can understand why, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell ya, but… Mags, you gotta understand, Mac just wants to have somebody to take care of. That’s it.”



Maggie sighed again and glanced toward the living room, where Mac was watching TV with the sound turned low and pretending to ignore them. “Mac?” she asked softly, and he looked at her and stood and made his way cautiously toward her. “I…”



“I’ll never do it again,” he interrupted quietly.



Maggie gave a weak smile. “Just… just let me know first, before next time. All right?”



It was Donald’s turn to drop his jaw, and Mac looked just as startled before he nodded. “Fair. And you’re not angry?”



“I… need to think about it, but… I don’t know.”



Mac gave his own weak smile. “I understand. Take your time, Maggie. I’ve got plenty.” And then he gave a wry grimace and started to unbutton his shirt, showing that he was shirtless underneath. “So, may I go home and get a shower? I need to wash my undershirt, too. Ricky’s got good aim.”



That did it, and both Donald and Maggie started laughing. Maggie caught her breath long enough to ask, “Didn’t Don teach you how to change a diaper?”



“I was distracted,” Mac admitted. “Donnie was prancing around butt-naked and wanted to know if I preferred him to wear the Sesame Street underpants or the ones with the rocket ships. He also kept trying to snap me with his wet towel. Keyword is trying. He mostly ended up getting his legs tangled in it. Almost tripped more than once.”



Maggie laughed while Donald ruffled his oldest son’s hair again; the boy was completely engrossed in his supper. “We’ll hafta work on that, won’t we, kiddo?”



Mac nodded briskly. “Now, if you don’t mind… I’m a bit hungry myself, and I’d dearly love to get cleaned up.”



Donald made a shooing motion. “G’wan, get outta here. I’ll see ya at the start of shift.” He paused. “And by the way, Mac… did you know that, uh… you don’t breathe when you’re asleep?”



Maggie leaned over to stare fully at her husband, who just looked warily at Mac, who scratched his neck. “Yeah, I… sorry. Forgot to warn you about that.”



“All right, just so you know.” Donald’s gaze traveled to his wife. “It just kinda freaked me out. One minute I’m listenin’ to him breathe across the room, and then I notice that he stops breathin’.”



Maggie lifted an eyebrow. “I see.” She looked at Mac. “Yes, you’re excused. Go get yourself cleaned up, or you’ll be late.”



Mac smiled again. “Thank you, Maggie.” He refrained from kissing the boys but instead waved to them. “Good night, Donnie, Ricky. Be good for your mother, all right?” He grinned at their goofy chirps and then nodded at Don. “See you.”



When he was gone, Maggie looked at her husband and sighed. “He is different,” she admitted. “That doesn’t mean that he’s any less… what he is. I can’t say that I’ll ever just accept this but I promise to try not to hate him.”



Donald realized that it was as good as he was probably going to get, at least for now, and gave her a hug. “Thanks, babe. Means a lot to me.”



Maggie gave him another kiss, punctuated by a stealthy pinch to the backside. “Now, you too. Get ready for work. I get to try to convince these boys to sleep through the night after they had a nap not two hours ago.”



Donald winced and then tried not to grin. “You’ll have fun,” he offered, and dodged another pinch and darted down the hall to the bathroom. It was gonna be a good night.









Author's Note: Of all the chapters of We Don't Die that I've published on LiveJournal, this is the sole chapter that hasn't gotten a single comment except by my beta, and then only because I wouldn't stop wondering why. Why has nobody acted like they want to touch this one? Did it suck? Did I cross a line somewhere? Was it just plain dumb, because I had a review from somebody saying that my 'flashbacks' were boring, and that just really bothered me because I try to make them interesting. So where'd I go wrong here? I can't fix a problem unless I know what the problem is, you know.