A/N: Set in "Lost Weekend." Marty x Merrill. When Murdoch enters to find his two students strewn across the room, and his observations.

.

.

Reginald Murdoch smiled as he entered the doors to Mansbridge Academy's common room, fresh from a long night on the town. The other vampires were still out late, having fun and not at all shredding human remains, so he left them to have fun on their own.

He threw his coat up on the rack, overlooking the peaceful sights of his home.

That is, until he heard the quiet, muffled sobs near the piano. He waltzed further into the room, only to find none other than Mimi James with wrists and ankles bound with extension cords and her jean jacket wrapped over her head.

"Mimi, Mimi. What happened?" He asked quietly, attempting at remaining calm as he pulled the jean jacket over her head and hugged her gently.

"I don't know what happened," she wailed as he pulled her head to his shoulder, running his hand through her hair, "Someone jumped me from behind; I was so scared." She sobs, eyes closed as tears leaked down her face.

The sound of ragged breathing catches Murdoch's attention, and he carefully turned to find a horrid sight.

Merrill and Marty were curled up on the floor in the distance; his eyes were closed, and hers were looking down on his guiltily. Her head was pressed against his chest desperately, listening for a heartbeat. Silent tears ran down her own face as she stared at his emotionless stance, as blood ran down the corner of her venomous bloody lips, which she bit down on to hold back her screams.

"Oh, my God," Murdoch whispered, watching them a second longer, as Mimi continued to shake and sob against him, when he immediately turned his attention back to her.

He'd deal with them later.

.

.

Later that night, in Murdoch's study, the three sat quietly.

Murdoch continued writing in his vampire observations and notations of the night, meanwhile watching the two of them from the corner of his eye.

While both have remained silent on the point, I can only assume Marty and Merrill were forced to confront the very worst in themselves, he wrote, an opportunity few mortals have ever experienced in their lifetime.

.

.

Marty sipped the blood through the straw, relishing the feeling of Merrill's hand gently running along his chest, feeling for the barely-audible heartbeat that still thudded in his chest. He breathed a sigh of relief at the familiar taste of his blood ration, letting it soak through his throat.

"You made it," she smiled, relieving him of the straw.

He smirked weakly, "I had reason to live."

She just rolls her eyes gently before pressing the straw back to his lips, running her fingers over his sweaty forehead. He'd felt so weak, so pained from the lack of blood, that he barely had any energy to move, just to sweat and drink.

"Why didn't you go out with the others last night, really?" Merrill asks after a while, nipping her lower lip subconsciously, letting his slow heart drum a little quicker and embarrassment flood his brain. She could hear it from a mile away, and read his mind.

"Really?" he repeats, his eyes fluttering, "I wanted to hit on you." he admits, a smirk flashing across his face, letting her blush melt his heart. Being the man, he turns the tables, "Why did you stay behind?"

She smiles, still flushed, and twirling his straw between her fingers, so she didn't have to meet his interested, weak gaze, "I needed some time to get over him."

"And did you?" his reply is almost immediate.

She picks at her lip again, inclining the straw to his lips to take a swift sip. Glancing behind her, she gazes as Murdoch continues to write, unfazed, before turning back and pressing a kiss to Marty's lips.

It wasn't like the needy, hungry one they'd shared earlier, it was slow, soft, and the taste of blood between them made them both feel alive, giddy.

His mouth moved gently on hers, tasting her own, natural lips with his artificial bloody ones.

They weren't at all alike, but that didn't mean that they couldn't try at love.

.

.

Murdoch let the unwanted smile paint his features as he watched her slowly pull back and press the straw to his hungry lips again [and they all knew it wasn't just for the blood.]

The elderly man dipped his pen into another blot of ink, before he started writing again:

A vampire acts on instinct, and only for self-preservation... how then are we to explain an act of pure self-sacrifice?

He wondered why Marty had sacrificed himself for Merrill, so she could live longer, and that she was worth dying for.

Maybe it was an unseen declaration waiting to happen? Murdoch chuckled at the thought before replacing his pen and eyeing the two once more, interested in the couple's future.

.

.

A/N: If you've never watched Vampire High, I suggest you find it, and maybe watch "Lost Weekend". I am very interested in the show and ship Marty and Merrill. Some of the dialogue from the show is used in this, and I don't own anything! Copyrights go to YTV/ The WB and the creators, Garry Blye and Mark Shekter. So yeah.. hope you enjoyed :)