Title: Blood Brothers
Author: SrslyNo
Summary: It's not easy being a vampire and having House as your best friend.
Characters: House/Wilson
Rating: R, (R to maybe NC-17 toward the end).
Warning: AU. This chapter is scary at times. Eventual slash. Spoilers for S4 & S5 promos.
Disclaimer: Not mine or ever will be. Just playing with my anatomically correct House and Wilson dolls.
A/N: Building on the vampire genre I've created a few new twists of my own.
A big thank you goes to my beta, bookfan85
for her sharp eyes, support, encouragement and assistance with some decisions regarding this story.
Please R&R.
hwhwhwhw
Chapter 3: You're a Sucker
"That glass of blood was your death warrant."
The words echoed in House's ears. Fear unleashed sweat that trickled down the back of his neck like an army of liquid ants. He also learned how it felt to have his blood run cold.
But, it didn't distract from his overwhelming need to know. He bit back his tongue not once but twenty times as he listened to Wilson's chilling edict.
There was only one question on his mind, and he blurted it out, "Do you want me to pick up your laundry from the cleaners? Yes or no?"
Wilson just stood there with his mouth open - fangs at the ready, but the silver was fading from the eyes. He blinked once, twice, and said, "Shkooze me?"
Hearing "Excuse me" or rather "Shkooze me" from a vampire dampened the whole horror effect. House started returning to earth from the rarified air of the supernatural. He was relieved to see Wilson was also coming down quickly from the sizzling currents that thickened the air around them moments ago. He'd file it away for future reference if ever he met a creature of the night in a back alley; but, not a fool, he doubted that it would ever work with anyone except Wilson.
He inspected the creature/man/friend before him. The fangs protruded, but the veil of silver was extinguished from the eyes. They were back to normal except for the heavy glassy cast, and the lazy eye ran a far second to the well-behaved one, "Bat got your tongue, Bela? You really should try Poligrip."
Wilson swiped at his mouth, checking the progress on his retracting canines, "Houshe," he swallowed hard, trying to enunciate, "Houssse. This is no laughing matter. Itsh-it'ss far more sseriousss than you can imagine."
House sat down on the bed and looked up, "Damned right it is. From your outburst I have to assume I'm the minion to a man suffering from rampaging hormones. Is it PMS or menopause? You're nearly 40, so it's probably 'The Change.' It's a real bitch, huh Jimmy?"
Wilson sat down beside him, eye palming his face into his hands, "Yeah, and it's not any more enjoyable with a Vicodin chaser. When and how many pills did you take today?"
"A total of eight since this morning. In vampire years I suppose that's like…"
"Food poisoning. Yeah, thanks." Wilson removed his hands and tried to give his head a shake to throw off the drugs. "Apparently, more lethal than garlic."
"Not that it will do me good now? Prevent you from having your way with me?"
"No. It wouldn't." Wilson shook his head in regret and sighed, "You damned idiot."
"My mother taught me to say 'thank you' when you pass the salt and pepper, or save someone's life."
"Well, thank you, but wait…Are you admitting you were taught manners? Be careful Cuddy doesn't find out, or she'll expect you to attend fundraisers."
"Now you're really scaring me," not as comfortable with the man next to him as he used to be, he reached for a double helping of bravado, "Cheer up. You didn't bite me, and you're not a head of cabbage chilling in my vegetable drawer. So you got the added bonus of a buzz along with your strength back. Why so glum about drinking my blood?"
Wilson turned to face him while trying to focus his eyes, "You brought me back so you could kill me with all your questions, didn't you?"
"I wasn't the one going on about a connection, and death warrants." House mimicked Bugs Bunny, "Eh, what's up, doc?"
Wilson rolled his eyes, "Get it through your funky head that this isn't a joke.
"Mind if I change into something more comfortable?" Wilson went over to the closet, turning his back toward him as he slipped on a black button-down shirt and jeans. House shook his head, only Wilson would be more comfortable fully dressed than in underwear, but his musings vaporized as Wilson returned.
The face and body were leaner, more youthful. The cheekbones were sharply sculpted cliffs, and the dusting of silver at the temples disappeared under dark, thick, silken locks. The clothes hung loosely as if he instantly dropped 20 pounds, and he looked…impossibly young. House might have passed him on the street without recognizing him if it wasn't for the bushy eyebrows, chocolately eyes, and the pretty lips that were stamped 'Wilson' all over them. He looked like Claudio in "Much Ado About Nothing."
The cadence in the voice was the same, "Do you mind if I conserve energy? I want to hold off as long as possible before needing more blood. This is how I looked after I was turned, but if you are more comfortable with how you normally see me I can create the illusion of aging."
"Al Gore will write you a commendation." House found nothing objectionable about the transformation. Young Wilson was easy on the eyes, and would only admit to himself that he missed the "Boy Wonder" of late.
Youthful or not, gravitas shone from the eyes, "You really should've let me go. You don't know the kind of trouble you're in."
"Mind if I have a beer while you tell me?"
Wilson stood with his hands in his pockets, and nodded his agreement, swaying slightly from the medication, "Go right ahead, but you're buying."
hwhwhwhwh
They were back at the kitchen table. House sucking down the brew he brought over, and Wilson quietly sitting in the opposite chair, forsaking any interest in the golden liquid, blinking hard to check the diminishing effects of the medication in his system.
Both were quiet. Watching each other; considering their next move. By the time House twisted off the second cap, Wilson's reflexes and thought processes were close to optimal bandwidth.
"Give it to me straight, doctor. Earn that ten dollars I'll owe you."
Wilson tried to keep his voice objective, but the eyes betrayed embarrassment, "You have to understand, blood is everything to m-'my kind.' We are predators first, second and third. Blood is food, sex, procreation…life. The drive for blood is overpowering, and after the first taste," Wilson lowered to an almost inaudible whisper, "Especially from a compatible sex partner the need to consume becomes overwhelming, and there are only two choices: Caressing or embracing the prey."
"Caressing?"
"Drinking enough to survive without draining and killing the victim." Wilson scrubbed at his forehead. "Obviously, I practiced this with my wives, and girlfriends, and they never had a clue. Just lovemaking that began with a kiss on the neck."
"Convenient."
"Yeah, convenient." Wilson did not look happy.
"And, an embrace?"
"The embrace. It's the only way to reproduce. Turns the victim into a creature like me." Wilson saw House's eyes darken to a vivid blue as he speculated on the possibility. Waving his arm, he tried to erase any interest from his friend's mind. "Forget I mentioned it. It's ugly. Horrific. It takes a physical and emotional toll, and the outcome can tear a relationship apart."
"Have you embraced anyone?"
Getting up from the chair, Wilson began to pace, "Actually, yes. I didn't realize what I was doing at the time until it was too late. I've avoided the situation ever since."
"…And, you avoid the situation by using fang prophylactics?"
Wilson forced himself to stop in mid-pace, and shoved his hands into his pockets. His face turned three shades of red before he admitted, "By having relationships with women and drinking their blood." With his head bowed, he waited for the inevitable question.
House's eyes focused on a distant point as he processed the information. His next remark wasn't a question. It was a statement. "You're gay, and I'm in deep shit."
Silver jets of light jumped out of Wilson's eyes. A bulge in his jeans began to grow despite the fisted hands pushing out from the fabric of his pockets. He made a wide berth away from House, and skulked into the chair near the empty bookcase, burying his head in his hands. His body language read 'horny but miserable.'
A low moan prefaced the speech, "With women I can control my cravings and passions. Besides, I really don't want to sire a harem, but men…I can't control my desires. I'll suck until there isn't a drop left, and unless I embrace them and let them drink from me, they're dead."
As awful as the disclosure was, House offered his brand of consolation, "But, you're a lover, not a killer."
A wretched whisper traveled from the corner of the room, "One and the same."
"You said, you embraced someone. Did you also kill?" House didn't want to know, but the question wrenched out of him.
"Thank God, no, but I nearly killed two men until I realized it was easier to feed off women. The first time I was lucky, and by accident broke away. The second time I had no willpower. The only choice was to embrace."
House's curiosity was in overdrive and wasn't going to slow down. He dragged his chair over to where Wilson sat, and stared at him until he looked up. "Don't stop there. How did it go down? Did you go down?" His interest ignited. He wanted to know, needed know, was hot to know.
Wilson unfolded his story and spread it out like a road map for House to follow, "My sire's name is Zehava. After she turned me she fed me until I grew stronger and could fend for myself, but she wasn't generous with information. Whatever she told me was on a need-to-know basis.
"The first time, I'd been on my own for a week, and was naive, not understanding the scope of my hunger. After class, I worked part-time as an EMT, earning money and pumping up my intern applications at the same time. I worked part-time up until the…incident."
"Another tech and I were in the back of the ambulance while the driver cruised our area waiting for calls. We were sitting kind of close, almost shoulder-to-shoulder, kidding, maybe…flirting, and then we went over a speed bump too fast, and were pushed together. Our arms went out to steady each other, and…and I lost control. The warm skin of his neck was beneath my lips. I could see his pulse, watched it throb, and heard the rush of blood…" Wilson paused, swallowed hard, and took a deep breath, "Without thinking, I began biting down on his neck. I swear House, my behavior was reflexive, and there I was, enjoying the hottest sex in my life. Neither of us could break away. I was in…oblivion."
House wanted to rewind the last part and check for bonus features, "A vampire's bite is orgasmic?"
Wilson was reliving his humiliation and didn't catch the subtext of the query. He hurriedly answered, "Yes. Remember the old E ticket rides at Disneyland? This ride would take the whole book. Several in fact. It was all the rides in the park, even those that were gone…from the old Rocket to the Moon to California Screamin' with Pirates of…" Wilson caught himself…and the speculative sparkle warming the blue eyes across from him. He raised his hand, "Oh, no, don't even think about it. I keep telling you that the price of admission is far higher than the gate fee at the Magic Kingdom."
Rubbing the back of his neck, he recalled where he left off, "We were holding on to each other, unconscious of anything around us when the siren screamed overhead and the vehicle sped off to an apartment building fire with reported injuries, but neither of us stopped – we couldn't. Fire trucks followed along the same route with their horns blasting along side us. It was enough to wake the dead, but I was barely aware of what was going around me." Wilson sat forward in his chair, "House, I still couldn't break the connection. We stopped at the curbside, and I could smell smoke entering the cab through the ventilation system, heard the guys up front, the fireman, and finally I cooled enough to push away. I don't know what stopped me. A few more minutes, and he would be drained. My EMT partner, Bill, was dazed but able to walk. I was terrified he would tell somebody that I was a vampire, but all he remembered was having crazy passionate sex.
"I quit my job after that. Avoided Bill the best I could, but he kept showing up with…gifts. I was being…stalked. He was half out of his mind because I refused to continue what we started. Not that it was any easier on me." Wilson's eyes were haunted, "I understand more about addiction than you think.
"I returned to my sire, asking her what to do. She couldn't understand why it mattered to me. She laughed and said I should embrace him. Told me it was not her affair, and that I was on my own. I begged and pleaded with her. Threatened to dust myself if that was the only way to end the connection. When she saw I was serious, she offered to grant me one last favor, and took Bill under her guardianship, but she warned me never to bother her again."
House was fascinated, "So, now that you drank my blood, I'm under your spell and not only will be picking up your laundry, but will be paying for your lunch?" He inwardly sneered. Like that would be the day.
"Yes. Why should I dwell on the bad news, when there's so much good to celebrate?" Wilson was far from breaking open a bottle of champagne, "You can buy your own food from now on, but you'll be paying for mine in blood. I suppose you'll want to wash and wax my car too?"
The words flew out of House's mouth without thinking, "Only the best Carnauba for my Master."
Neither man laughed. House could almost smell Wilson's melancholy in the back of his throat.
He shook off the impulse to comfort his doleful companion. He was hunting for knowledge. Now that he knew about caressing, he wanted to hear about the embrace. "What happened the second time?"
Wilson pinched the bridge of his nose, "The second time was a few weeks before graduation, and I was dating my first future ex, Jenn." Lips pressed together in chagrin, "I thought everything was going well. I cared for her. I-I was happy. She was a willing donor, and I thought as long as I wasn't hungry, I could control myself. And, I could, but only up to a point.
"We weren't living together. I was still sharing an apartment with a guy named Joel. There was absolutely no chemistry between us. I didn't want to ruin what Jenn and I established, and really, Joel was a dick. He was as straight as a carpenter's level, and twice as boring. And, to prove lightening can strike twice his fiancée was his female clone.
"One day, Joel was rushing to see Sarah and began shaving at the sink while I was in the shower." Wilson grimaced with annoyance, "The cheap bastard nicked himself a couple of times with an old razor, and as I stepped out of the tub, a couple of drops splashed on my face. I instinctively licked, and that's all it took. Two specks of blood and we were connected. I could feel it immediately and knew I needed to get out of the apartment. Somehow I resisted the impulse to stay, and broke records throwing on my clothes. Jenn took me in, and I fought the urge to go back, but Joel kept calling. Asking why I left in such a hurry, wanting to know when I would return because he needed to split the rent and expenses. Finally, he said if I was moving out for good, I should at least pick up my things. Thinking I'd curbed my own passion by caressing Jenn, and since I didn't bite Joel, the connection only flowed from me to him, I returned…and again…"
"Dun, dun dunn." House inserted the sound affects.
"Yeah. This time no stopping. I had to turn him, or kill him."
"Bet your private bachelor party went over big with boring dick's chick."
"Right. I ruined both their lives."
"She married him?"
"Yes, but not for long. Since he was straight, he embraced her, and soon after they couldn't stand each other. The marriage was so short, they were granted an annulment citing false representation." Wilson huffed.
"Now, there were four vampires living within blocks of each other. Joel and I wanted to go for each other's throats if we so much as got a whiff of each other, and to some extent it was the same with Zehava. She wanted no part of me, but as my sire I cared for her. Surprisingly, the fiancée and I got along better after she was turned than before.
"For a while it was hell. We were all competitors sharing the same territory for the same food. Luckily I was moving out of town to start my internship." He shrugged, "Again, all I know is that embracing is a crapshoot. Sometimes, you can live with them, but more often than not you can't."
House's chin was resting on the handle of his cane, drinking it all in, "What happened to Zehava?"
"The last I heard she moved to Oregon. Said she was allergic to sun block…and to me."
"Hard to be rejected by your sire," House commiserated under his breath. "That's what you're afraid would happen to us if we embrace…our friendship would break?"
There was a mournful nod, "Yes. I don't want to find out, and take that chance."
Wilson made a good case. House didn't want to find out either.
"How come you were willing to risk living with me after Julie?"
"You're a night owl, I'm an early bird. Two compatible but different species."
House agreed. Neither one of them was the touchy-feely type, or maybe it was only he who avoided touching. Wilson abstained for other reasons - for life and death reasons.
"You believe the connection is strongest with men, because of your orientation. So, your interest in women isn't about fixing them. It's about getting what you need without killing anyone." House's brow furrowed, "No connection at all?"
Old eyes stared back from a boyish face. "There's a slim hold, but I'm definitely in control while I play the considerate lover." His attention was drawn to the arm of the chair as his fingers skated the leather in a figure eight. "Without passion I get bored, and the connection lessens. Then, they move on."
"But you and Amber…?"
"Still in the honeymoon stage, and after all, House," the eyes flashed, "She was a proxy of you." The voice betrayed bitterness, "It was a perfect solution. I thought our relationship had a chance to last."
House wrestled with his personal green-eyed monster, "And, the sex…?"
"The best by far with a woman, and yet without the overpowering connection."
It wasn't lost on House that Wilson admitted indirectly his interest in him, "I'm flattered," House leaned forward in his chair. Their foreheads were almost touching, "So, that only leaves the two of us with…the caress? Is that really the only choice? So far, I'm resisting you." As he said it, he realized his inner leg was touching Wilson's outer, his hand was rubbing the top of his friend's thigh, and he was gazing at the most fuckilicious mouth ever. He felt Wilson place his hand over his, interlacing his fingers, and then…let go and jumped out of the chair, striding over to the bookcase.
A furious campaign was initiated to pack stray books into boxes. House watched as one colorful blur after another flew through the air at the speed of light and landed in the lined up cartons. The dark eyed man didn't look away from his task, "Weren't you listening? It's not likely you will survive the first time. You better go. I'll leave New Jersey tonight. I-I'll get in touch with Zehava and learn how we can beat this connection. It's no concern of yours, House. You deserve to have your life back."
Wilson made it sound too easy. The diagnostician's invisible crap detector turned on. "Thought you weren't in contact with your man-eating parent?"
The book boxes filled to overflowing, and still more were heaped onto the pile. Derisive laughter accompanied the question, "You're a sucker, House. Is it my clueless Jimmy Stewart act, or the tragic misunderstood vampire that's making you such easy prey?" With hands on hips Wilson turned to face him, "You still haven't the faintest idea who I am."
Wilson was turning…again. He aged, aged beyond human life expectancy and beyond. A bloated hunchbacked mummy stood before him. Skin pasty, wrinkled and slack with sagging jowls. Knobby arthritic fingers ended in blackened talons. Jaundiced eyes filled with faded copper irises that surrounded paper-thin slits of red-hot fire. A few airy wisps of hair floated like cobwebs above the mottled scalp. Soulless evil grinned from liver-colored lips as a pointed tongue ran over a mouthful of tiny razor sharp, spiked teeth. The trademark canines of disproportionate length unmistakably proclaimed the fiend to be a vampire.
House was repulsed and scared to the core. Without the fangs, it was the same monster that lived under his bed when he was a kid.
Crab-walking over to House the creature poked a cracked dirty nail into House's chest, rubbing the nipple under the shirt with a callused bony thumb. House flinched and involuntarily stepped backward. He was close enough to smell the stench of death. Gone was the well-modulated voice, replaced by a reedy dry rasp, "Like what you see? I'm quite the pretty picture. This is what my sire turned me into. She'll come to me when I look like this. It entertains her to laugh at the horror she created.
"Don't know what came over me, thinking your blood would connect us. The Vicodin gave me more of a thrill than you." The mouth twisted into a sneer and spat, "A drug addicted cripple. I can do much better. I'll ask Chase to come over and help with the packing. I'll stare at him with my puppy-dog eyes, and he'll drop Cameron as if she were a broken Barbie doll." He shuffled over to the kitchen and picked up his cell phone. "Got him on speed dial. Don't know why I didn't think of this before."
The cruel words lashed at House, but he was more overwhelmed by a furnace of fear roarimg within him. His head felt feverish from the rush of blood pounding through his body. Beads of sweat poured down his face. Alarm and dread collided within him as the front door and safety beckoned.
Self-preservation cleared the panic from his brain. Wilson was insane, better beat a retreat and warn Chase to stay clear.
The ancient one nodded, "That's right, get out of here, and keep your mouth shut before I decide to drink you dry and snap your bones like twigs." The vampire's nails stroked his chin, "You don't deserve my clemency. It would be much better sport to bury your body in a shallow grave in the woods, and watch wild predators scatter your remains." He finished with a wheeze that served as a laugh. "Hmmm…One of my better ideas…" He changed direction and moved like a spider toward House's direction…
He heard the bang of the door smashing shut on epic evil, and was astonished to find he was outside of the apartment. He couldn't remember ever moving so fast. He couldn't remember moving at all.
The terror faded quickly now that he wasn't facing his private nightmare. He headed toward the elevator, but at a slower pace. All the adrenaline pumping through his body was making his arms and legs shake and his cane couldn't steady him until his hands stopped as well. He bent over and concentrated on inhaling large breaths of fresh air before he straightened out and felt strong enough to head down the hallway.
Calmer, he became aware that the connection was with him. Every step was an effort. Finally, he was at the metal clamshell doors, and pushed the down button, closing his eyes as he waited.
He could see the shrunken monster again. Not only did it remind him of his childhood nightmares, it was an exact replica. Gray fluttering moths beat in his stomach. It was too much of a coincidence. Sly-eyed suspicion crept up to the edge of mind. Perhaps, there was more to the connection than he knew. What if the gruesome troll was a hallucination projected by Wilson? Was he capable of reading his mind and dredging up childhood fears to trick him into leaving? Several times in the course of the evening, his friend second guessed what he was going to say.
On the other hand, the connection could be manipulating his perception. Seducing him to return to the predator's den.
As the elevator doors rolled open, fresh foreboding flooded his senses. He saw Wilson disintegrating into crackling sparks as flames roared about him. Another vivid vision, and a hurtling locomotive's wheels ripped a dark haired head from a slender body with the ease of a knife slicing through warm butter. There was one more apparition, and Wilson shattered into dust as a wooden stake impaled his heart. The last image glowed and sharpened. It was hi def compared to the others.
Shunning the elevator he flew back along the hall, testing the door. It held fast. He reached for his keys, looking for the duplicate, but his trembling fingers wouldn't cooperate. God, no! This can't be happening! When he found the right one, his hands shook like a tree branch buffered in a storm and the keys chattered to the floor. Jesus! don't let me be too late! He swept them up, and started again. Precious seconds escaped before the brass key plunged into the steel tumblers and released the lock.
He threw open the door. It ricocheted against the wall as he heard a sharp crack and the splintering of wood. Nooooooo! Icy fingers squeezed his heart. He saw his handsome friend with a discarded and fractured broom close to his feet. The shirt was open, his chest exposed. A portion of the broken handle was converted into a jagged stake that was grasped in both hands and raised high above his head pointing directly at the most foolish heart he knew. The long sharp tip was poised to plunge as House limped forward, but there wasn't enough time to get close enough to wrestle it away, so he used the only weapon available and furiously thundered:
"STOP!! YOU SELF-SACRIFICING SON-OF-A-BITCH!! Who gave you the right to dust yourself?! You think you're gonna leave me here to sweep up what's left of you with a broken broom? We're connected. YOU OWE ME!!
The lethal point wavered in the air as the diatribe broke over Wilson's head, but white-knuckles continued to clench the wood spike. He turned his head and frowned at the man with the cane, rooting him to the spot, "You're right, House. I do owe you. I owe you your freedom and life, and the only way I can do that is if I take mine."
The dagger rose higher. The vampire returned to his task more determined than ever and didn't waste another second. The wooden missile rushed down to meet its target…
TBC
Thank you for reading. Comments welcome.