A/N: A quick drabble written because vampire!Charlie is my new bias. This was partly inspired by a story my love wrote me and partly by a song called "Waltz with Vampires". Beautiful song, that.

Warnings: Alternate Universe / Blood / Slash. Read at your own discretion.

FYI, Tenebrais is my word and amica mea is Latin for "my love". Don't hold me to the last one; google translate isn't 100% reliable.

"Vampires care about things they can own, possess, mark as theirs. They don't possess emotions or the capability to care for mortals."

Don looks up from the television playing a documentary about vampires. He snorts at some of the facts the man says, knowing that there were some vampires who possess a shred of human compassion and care for those around them. Those were known as the Humanities, a rare class of vampires that no one spoke of because they were so few and far between.

Almost all vampires fall in a class with the name Tenebrais; darkness and evil incarnate in human words. They stalk humans, attacking no matter the age, and sucking them dry until they were nothing but a dried up husk. Most mortals knew only of the Tenebrais vampires; nothing of the Humanities, and Don gives an internal sigh at the thought. He knows a handful of Humanities vampires, even friends with a couple, but they were cast away from history, deemed an impossibility and never thought of again.

In truth, Humanities did their best to not show their vampiric nature. They drink for humans when necessary, leaving enough to keep them alive and wiping their memory afterwards so they think they had a bad dream. Where Tenebrais would live in castles, make their rank known, Humanities live in mundane houses, ones that mortals would own themselves, and don't flaunt their nature. After centuries pass, they might live in the same way their counterparts did, but they would do their utmost to avoid them.

Don flicks off the television and looks at his wrist. Two fang marks glow in the faint light of his apartment and he smiles a little at the thought. These marks were proof that he belongs to a vampire and a warning to others to not touch him. They could sense the power the one who Marked him possessed and the vampires who dare to go near him were ones his sire knows and trusts. Fledglings were a risk, due to being new vampires and unable to sense marks, but his master was quick to dispose of them should they strike.

He takes out his phone, dialing a familiar number. It picks up after the second ring and all Don says is, "Mind taking me to your castle?"

The voice on the other end chuckles, a sound that never fails to stir his blood, and replies, "You know the way. I'll open the path for you."

The call disconnects and the dial tone enters his ears. Closing his phone, Don pockets it, locks his apartment and walks the familiar path towards his lord's castle.

On the way, his marks tingle in warning. Eyes widening a fraction, Don looks around, reaching for the vampiric gun that his vampiric friends demand he carry. As soon as his hand rests on the handle, something shoves him to the ground and pins him with a strength that far surpasses his own.

Red eyes gleam in the moonlight and the whites are black, marks protrude from its face, and fangs drip blood on Don's cheek. He twists his wrists, trying to find a weakness in the vampire's grasp, but there's none. However, as soon as his assailant presses against the marks, a howl echoes through the forest before something-someone-slams against it.

Don scrambles up, unable to see what was going on in the darkness, but he hears the growls and screams before there's some kind of noise. Silence follows after that, but someone walks up to him, and he instinctively backs up, until his marks send a warm feeling through his being.

"That you, Charlie?"

"It's me."

Don sags forward in relief and strong arms wrap around him to keep him from falling to the ground. "I guess I should consider myself lucky that he touched the marks, huh?" he mumbles against the coldness of Charlie's chest, voice a little higher than he intends it to be. "Thanks, buddy."

"I promised you when I Marked you," Charlie chides, resting his hands against his beloved's face, bringing it up so red eyes meet brown, "I would protect you from everything that would threaten to harm you. I will always uphold that vow."

Don smiles, shaking himself to rid his body of the trembling. He hates showing his vulnerable side to anyone, even Charlie, but he knows he's slowly learning how to. "I know you will, but if he hadn't touched the marks, then-"

"I can sense you," the nightwalker reminds him, moving one hand from Don's face to press against his heart. "If you're in danger, I know. The marks simply tell me how much."

"Huh. How come you never told me?"

"I thought it was obvious," Charlie says with a tinge of humor hanging off his words. "Come, amica mea. Let me take you to our home."