A.N. I decided to write this because I absolutely loved this show, and 'Sons of Belial' was one of, if not, my all time favorite episode. I loved the father/son stuff between Nick and LaCroix in the second half, and since I can't seem to get enough of it, I wrote about it too!
Please let me know what you think!
In all my years never once have I complained that life as a vampire was dull, monotonous, repetitive or in anyway, boring. It was an endless parade of interest. But there were many things I'd never expected to witness. My son possessed by a 'demon', was one of them.
I could hardly believe my eyes as I'd watched Nicholas, my Nicholas, writhe and snarl, and talk about himself in the third person, as though it was not him speaking. For all intents and purposes it did really actually appear as though he was possessed by the devil.
I had believed this all to be merely part of his imagination, or perhaps, by chance, it was a horrendous sham, but clearly, though I was loathe to admit it, there was something more to it than I'd first thought. Nicholas would never reveal his true nature like that to a mortal unless in a dire situation...if he was in his right mind...and clearly he hadn't been.
What...thing...was it that dared to target my Nicholas, my son, in this way? Whatever it was...if only I could've took hold of it in corporeal form, I longed to tear out its throat and drain it of every last drop of fouled blood from its dying carcass.
Of course, it was not the only thing to blame for the whole affair; Nicholas had brought it upon himself. 'Torn by good and evil' is what that exorcist had said, and it certainly was an apt description of my son's ridiculous predicament. Little did he realise that he had over simplified the issue, but he would never listen to me. I knew that he was neither good nor evil, no one is simply good or evil. He would learn one day, and however long it took for him to learnt it, I would always be there. After all, as a father, who's responsibility was he if not mine? I had made him, he was my creation and I would protect him for all time. Him and my Jeanette. My son and my daughter.
One who stayed loyal to me, and one who left me...but he would return, after all, I could wait for all eternity, and for Nicholas, and Nicholas alone, I would wait for eternity. The humans he loved so much wither and fade as quickly as common house flies, so was it any wonder, why, when he become so attached to them, that it drives him mad?
As vampires, it is true that we are above mere mortals, and always would be, but without them what are we? Where would we be without mortals to feed on? Without mortals to entertain us with their culture and their lifestyles, what would we do?
If only he listened to me, he'd save himself all of his unnecessary torment. Did he think I enjoyed seeing him suffer? What kind of father would derive pleasure from seeing his son unhappy?
I sighed deeply as the noise from the club, as usual, permeated the walls of my darkened study and my glass of blood was all but empty...for the fourth time already. Usually the noise was amusing - seeing humans act so loosely in an environment they thought safe, which in actual fact was frequented by vampires, was an ironic concept. However, tonight I was not amused; I was irritated. Extremely irritated.
After witnessing, without a doubt, that Nicholas had indeed been 'possessed', and in a situation where I was powerless to claim him back, he had been extremely fortunate that I hadn't torn Vanderwal's head off for subjecting him...and me, to the cross.
As I slammed the empty glass back onto the desk once more I decided that enough was enough, the noise had disrupted all of my senses and I would find no peace here for hours to come. I flew straight out of the building and high into the night's sky, but even here there was no peace. The noise and smell of the engines below floated up to me, the cluster of mortals below was buzzing like an overturned bee hive with just as little purpose.
On a whim...or perhaps not...I neared Nicholas' loft. As I did so I could hear the tuneless, chaotic sounds of piano chords weaving a song that spoke of both anger and anguish. It was loud and unfocused; most unlike Nicholas' usual musical tastes.
I flew through the skylight and landed on the mezzanine, looking down at the large room I'd so often seen before. It was much darker than I'd ever seen, with less than a dozen candles to illuminate the whole room was it any wonder why most was left in darkness?
The music didn't stop, even when I leaned against the railings, it only became slightly quieter. I listened as, after another minute, he stopped playing completely, and leaned over the piano silently.
"This is quite a distinct alteration in your repertoire, Nicholas," I sneered, "I must admit it is rather...dark...and sinister...I like it, please do continue."
"What do you want?" he asked me.
"You know," I began as I walked down the staircase, "Being a father, is a most difficult task..."
"Oh, please," sighed my ungrateful child, "Spare me the lecture..."
"...No matter how hard he tries, his child will never appreciate all he does. He sets aside his own prejudices, simply because the child begs him to. He bares the pain of the cross because his child is threatened, and still he receives no thanks...One would almost be insulted, of course, not that I was using any specific examples," I finished as I took a seat by the fire.
I noticed that he had left out a half empty wine glass on the table so I proceeded to examine its contents. It was of course, cows blood; positively revolting. I held back my very human 'gag reflex' as I put down the glass and suddenly felt the need to wash my hand extremely thoroughly.
Very slowly, Nicholas turned on his piano stool to face me, or at least to stare at the painting to my right.
"No...no...you're right, I'm sorry," he said after a minute, and I was more thrilled than I would admit to hear him say those words. "Thank you, LaCroix."
"I should probably savour this moment," I said, "No doubt it will be at least a century before I hear it said again. Ah, but how easily I forget, if you have your way, you won't live another century, will you?"
"LaCroix..." he sighed. "Not tonight."
"Why not? If you do, by some remarkable chance, succeeded, you will have to make the most of every hour. You know how quickly human life is wasted," I replied. "Let me save you the trouble; there is no cure. Once a vampire, always a vampire. A lion cannot become a bird because it wants to fly, stop wasting each night, stop starving yourself on this abominable diet," I glanced at his wine glass, "And come to your senses," I finished.
"You finished?" he asked, and I only scoffed. "I know there's probably no cure, nothing ever seems to work...but I can't stop trying...maybe someday, when there's nothing left for me...maybe I'll just give up...but I can't yet."
"Yes, I thought as much," I sighed, it seemed it would be a while longer until I got my Nicholas back. "Well, like any good father, I will continue to indulge you your whims, Nicholas, every vampire is allowed his 'midlife crisis', it seems that yours has come far too early," I waved my hand, and for a while he said nothing, he merely tapped absentmindedly at the ivory keys. I could sense his curiosity, he wanted to ask me something, I had a feeling it knew what it was, but I wasn't going to make it easy for him.
"Why did you help me? You didn't believe me...so why do as I asked?" he finally asked me.
"Nicholas," I sighed, "After all these years, have you truly learned nothing? You belong to me, I made you, no 'demon' is allowed to take you from me," I replied; it was the only answer I could give.
"How very primal," he scoffed.
"Of course, vampires are nothing if not territorial," I replied quickly.
"...Well...thank you...for being...territorial...I suppose..."
"My, my, my, two 'thank you's in one night, will the heavens ignite above us?" I asked sarcastically and he scowled halfheartedly back at me.
"That's a very childish attitude, you know," he said to me, and I could help but laugh aloud.
"Ha, oh, the irony, of you calling me childish," I explained at his look of indignation, "When it is you who persists in following a childish fantasy...oh do forgive me," I chucked, as, like a sulking child, he turned back to the piano and played a slow, mournful melody. I recognised it from the mid 1760's, it had been one of my favorites perhaps it was mere coincidence that Nicholas was choosing to play it now.
"You didn't kill him," I heard him ask, and it took me a moment to focus on his voice rather than the music.
"Who?"
"Doctor Vanderwal," he answered, and stopped playing.
"No...I did not."
"No...what I mean is...why? I saw you, how angry you looked."
"He...did what I could not," I replied slowly, as I was reminded of a similar time, a long time ago, several hundred years in fact. "My debt was repaid...if I should see him again, however, it doesn't follow that I won't kill him then of course, " I added with a smile. He had saved my son, I had let him live, but now I owed him nothing.
"Of course," Nicholas repeated. "You still don't believe it, do you?"
"I shouldn't have thought you cared, after all you are still here, what does my opinion on the subject matter," I dismissed.
"It could matter to me," he answered quietly and I sighed. Was I truly able to refuse him nothing? I take him to an exorcism simply because he says 'please'. I answer his questions despite knowing he was dismissing my answers as quickly as anything. Sometimes, I wondered about my own sanity, let alone his.
"I don't know, Nicholas," I said quickly, standing to admire one of his paintings; it was a perfect likeness of London just before the great fire. Only half finished as yet it would no doubt be exquisite when complete. Having never shown any artistic talent myself, even after so many centuries, it still delighted me that my son could appreciate culture so much, and with so much skill. "This is very good," I said, in an attempt to change the subject. "But I'm not sure that I didn't like it more with the flames, it was rather glum without them, wasn't it?"
"LaCroix," he sighed again.
"I told you; I don't know," I repeated, spinning on my heel to stare him down, "It was...something...I don't know...what it was..."
"Is it so hard to for you to admit that maybe...maybe devils and demons might actually exist?"
"Yes," I growled, especially when I am powerless against one of them that thinks it can take my son from me.
I noticed that Nicholas said nothing further to me, his questions answered we were once again at an impasse. There was no doubt, even he couldn't deny the fact that he was slowly returning to me, little by little, and with each conversation, he was regaining his respect for me - both as his master and as his father. I wouldn't allow anything to interfere with that. So, rather than bring up the subject of his ridiculous quest once more, I simply listened as he resumed his music.
Throughout the years I'd heard great masters compose their work, I'd watched the music of forgotten ages in its prime, but somehow none of it could compare to the music that Nicholas could play; if he put his mind to it. Perhaps I was simply biased.
I left just before sunrise and slept for most of the day, as a rather contented man.
Two nights later, when I returned from my flight after sunset I found a large box on my desk in my study. When I opened it I couldn't help but smile; the half finished painting I'd seen in Nicholas's loft was now completed in the exact style of the time in which it was set. I picked up a small piece of paper that was with it and read.
'LaCroix, j'aimais mieux sans les flammes,' (*1) the note said in beautiful calligraphy, how wonderfully like Nicholas.
(*1) J'aimais mieux sans les flammes - I liked it better without the flames.
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