She was breathing first light and shallow, then slow and deep, her face hot and sweaty from crying.

Her fangs felt sore in her mouth, her stomach was a snarling thing in her abdomen, but both were slowly fading...

She'd eaten spiders, crackers, moths, roaches, jerky, anything to ease this ache in her teeth, to take the edge off of this unreasonable hunger. It helped, but this hurt. Mavis curled up on her cot in her and Johnny's room, wiping away angry tears. She didn't understand, and didn't think she'd want to. So...so was that guy just going to go die now? Would that be her fault? . . . She buried her face into the thin pillow, feeling drained and depressed...

She sat up, determined to go find the guy, ignore the redness, and hypnotize him to not kill himself, when Johnny came in, looking tired, and confused, but happy, "Hey, Mavis," he greeted, smiling, "Was looking for you." She blinked, moving a bit to get him to sit down, watching him fall back with an exaggerated groan, to be nearly boneless, lying crosswise on the cot.

"Avril work you to death?" she asked, smiling a bit, but looking at the exposed skin of Johnny's throat, not hidden by a shirt neck...

"Not yet." he laughed weakly, then raised a finger aimlessly, "Ellie says you move fast for an old lady, and that Oscar guy wanted to say 'thank you' for some reason."

Mavis blinked, feeling thrown as Jonathan awkwardly raises his head to look at her, "Did something happen, with him?" he asked, concerned, and now he sees the redness of her eyes, the way she looked like she'd been crying, and she shakes her head, rubbing at her eyes, "He had, um, had a problem," she said, as he sat up, worry on his face, "We...talked about it," she said carefully, dazed, "I don't know but—but he looked okay?" she asked, anxious.

"He seemed okay, but his face sure wasn't." Jonathan said bluntly, and watched his girlfriend wince. Ah-hah... Johnny smiled tiredly, overriding Mavis's stammers, "I think if he wanted to say 'thank you' for it, you probably had a good reason for...for whatever," he eased, "He didn't hurt you?"

She shook her head, and Johnny rubbed her shoulder, "That's all I need to know." he said quietly, smiling at her, even while she nervously kept shaking her head.

"Humans are so weird..." she finally mumbled helplessly.

That made him laugh a little, holding her while she calmed down, "I'm sorry..." he murmured, but when she wasn't looking, a dark expression was on his face.

. . .

A moment in the day, mid-morning.

Johnny had managed to find a working outlet to charge his cell phone, and he and Mavis were staring at it nervously, as it sat in-between them on the floor.

The little battery icon in the corner blinked almost cheerily to show that it was full. They could do it, finally. They could call the hotel.

They would call the hotel.

Johnny smiled at her as she dialled the number, holding it up to her ear as it started to ring.

They both looked nervously at each other, as the ringing went on for a long time.

"Hello!"

Mavis's face lit up at the sound of Dracula's voice, then froze, and slowly fell and paled as it went on as an answering machine message...

"This is Dracula, manager of Hotel Transylvania..."

Their eyes met silently, Johnny able to hear the disembodied quality of the voice coming out of the phone.

"I am sorry that we cannot take your call at the moment..."

The phone trembled in her grip, but Johnny was slowly shaking his head, trying to ease her.

"If you would simply leave a message with your number and reason for calling, we will get back to you as soon as we can..."

Mavis's breathing hitched at the cheeriness in her father's voice, now anxiously waiting for the tone, just so he'd know she's okay...

"Thank you for calling, for it is most appreciated. I hope you are in good health, and thank you for considering our business."

*beep*

Mavis tensed, ready to give her message, only for her words to catch on her throat and die, as a voice told her the message inbox reported it was full...

"Tomorrow," Johnny said quickly, as she quietly pushed the END button and gave it back to him, shaken, "W-we'll call again tomorrow..."

Mavis nodded, "Tomorrow." she agreed, but she didn't sound so sure.

. . .

"We're gonna party tonight." Ellie told Mavis a while later over lunch, making the vampire blink.

"Huh?" Mavis asked.

The girl grinned excitedly, eyes sparkling, "We never celebrated the shadows going away, so everybody agreed we'll do something. Girls' and guys' night! Ding, dong, the stuff's all dead!"

Mavis thought it over, then smirked tiredly, "Sounds fun. Will there be drinking?" Mavis joked, then laughed at Ellie's stricken expression, "Kidding." she chuckled.

". . ."

"Ellie? . . . Yoo-hoo, Ellie?"

". . ."

"Ellie, c'mon, seriously, I was kidding... Maybe."

It was still a good payback for all the 'old lady' comments, even if she had to convince Ellie to come back within a ten foot radius.

. . .

Later that night, after the baby had been put to bed, Oscar had invited all of the menfolk to a drink, which was surprising, but not unwelcome. After all, the women of the group had decided to go do who knows what girls did, so why not? Johnny stared at the bottle they'd put in his hand, uncertain.

It's not that he'd never drank before, but still...

Oscar started toasting everything, Avril, the base, the death of the shadows, Johnny's 'crazy-creepy ghoul-friend'...

Johnny shrugged, finally laughing, maybe a bit louder than necessary.

Why not?

He starts taking a few sips, something like sour cherries pleasantly stinging the back of his throat, spicy sweet, comforting him.

Johnny doesn't remember too much after that.

. . .

Mavis stretched, waiting as she heard his clumsy footsteps in the hall, then watched the door open beneath her, and Johnny moved in unsteadily. She'd had a good time this evening, but she was curious to see how his went. She sniffed, and smelled that beer smell, not as strong as it'd been on Oscar's, but still...

He was now trying to find her under the cots, and she couldn't help but laugh, "How much did you have?" she asked disbelievingly.

"One!" he protested, jerking up, only to bang his head against the edge of the cot with a thwack, "Ow-w?!"

"How'd it go?" she continued to ask, walking with amusement along the ceiling to be over him as he rolled on the ground, clutching at the back of his head, and he squinted up at her, a grimace of pain dissolving to a grin, "I don't like 'Miss', or Marcus, or Oscar." he said cheerfully, "And I don't think I like ceilings either."

She blinked, slightly taken aback, "Oh?"

Well, Miss was kind of creepy, but she hadn't seen her and Johnny talk much.

He nodded, not getting up, persistently, rhythmically patting the floor beside him, not letting up until she rolled her eyes, dropping to land in a crouch next to him.

"Why don't you like 'em?" she asked, looking at his eyes as he raised his hand to lazily brush at her hair, trace her ear, smooth his palm across her cheek. He looked tired, and pretty dopey, but he was looking at her, so that had to count for something being left in his brain, she thought.

"Ceilings let you get away, which isn't fair," he said, frowning as she smiled, "'Miss' is evil, Marcus is weird, and Oscar's a creep, and you wanted him..."

She blinked, reeling back, "What?"

Johnny sat up, rubbing at his own face, going on in that slightly harsh tone and not looking so cheerful.

"The guy confessed, right, what he thought of doing? Elliot beat him up more for it, heh, but they're cool now. He didn't mention you, but I can add things up, Mavis..."

He looks at her through his fingers, and she could see his eyes drop to her mouth, looking strange. Mavis is stunned, and then surprised when he suddenly kisses her, clumsy, tasting good and weird at the same time with the heady aftertaste of a drink called Gulden Draak...

"J-John—nnf?"

She's light-headed as he breathes into her, dizzy and slightly overwhelmed by the strong traces of beer left in his mouth, it wasn't too bad, but... Her eyes widen as he tilts his head to push his tongue between her lips, breathing shakily through her nose as she feels him graze against her own tongue, then her teeth, making her shiver.

She's about to reciprocate, when with another lick he scrapes his tongue over one of her fangs, dragging it with sufficient force that she feels the parting of flesh under the needle-sharp tip and the welling up of something fresh, warm, rich, and hears, feels him groan against the pain but he only presses closer, and her mind is shot...

His hand cups the back of her head, not letting her back away as she tries to close her mouth without hurting him, shaking as the full taste hits her tongue and—

Johnny is shoved back against the cot, and Mavis is on the ceiling again, pacing, gasping for breath between her stained teeth, and he looks darkly up at her, teeth showing to be equally stained with his blood as he speaks again, hoarse, "See? Ceilings! . . . It's... I don't taste good enough, is that it? How'd he taste, then, huh?" he asked angrily, his voice thick as a fresh dripping of the liquid trails down his chin.

He's slammed back again, grunting as her hands are on either side of his head to gently blind him, keep him there while her own tongue gives a slow, careful lick to his chin before she kisses him fully, thumbs gently pressing over his eyes to keep him from opening them.

Her mouth is not nearly so gentle, teeth nearly carving a fresh cut into his tongue.

She backed off, breathing heavily after just a taste of that, looking down at him as she kept his eyes closed, and she seethed, leaning towards his ear.

"I don't know how he tastes..." she hissed, feeling him move under her, try to get up, but she growls in warning, and he's still. "He isn't on the menu. And neither are you. Especially not you... There...there are...lines, Johnny," she murmured, trying to calm down, brushing her lips against his ear, trailing up to his temple, where she felt his blood beat gently in a fine vein there, "Lines that are there for a reason, a good reason," she finished with a kiss to his forehead, "I love you, Johnny, and I-I do want you, oh you have no freaking idea, b-but you're drunk, you're drunk, and I'm so tired..."

He seems to be searching for words, but she doesn't want to hear him, so she kissed him again, keeping her mouth closed, even as she wants to sink her teeth into him and tear at his mouth and tongue and trachea and get more of that wonderful, wonderful, wonderful, wonderful...!

She backs off quickly, taking a shaky breath, getting off him, getting away as he sits up, he blinking.

Mavis grinned, but it quivered at the corners, didn't match her pain-filled eyes, "You taste good, you—..." she whimpered, then cuts off, and is then a cloud of mist that seeps under the doorway, and Jonathan is alone. He stares at the door, and is then crestfallen, falling back against the cot as the taste of his own blood is gross to him, running over his tongue and down his throat and drying on his lips, and now he might get why Oscar drinks so much, to wash away bad tastes...

He re-eally messed up...

. . .

Mavis walks in, but sees Marcus sitting at one of the tables. She starts back and nearly goes away, but he shakes his head, gesturing to the empty mess hall.

"You're fine." he says simply, looking back down at the table, at the magazine it seems he was reading, "Bad company?"

She's hesitant, but she does want to talk, kind of, and Marcus is the quietest of these people, and everyone else is sleeping.

"Drunk company." she admits wearily, sitting at the table, not near him, but in earshot. She sees a bottle near him, not quite empty, and stares at it.

Marcus glances at her, then at the bottle, and silently pushes it towards her.

Mavis stared at it, thinking. She's already slightly tipsy from Johnny's kiss and the alcohol that was in what blood she did have from him...

Still...

She takes a rebellious swallow that quickly turns into a repentant choking as it hits the back of her throat, "Gu-a-h-ugh...?!"

There's the hint of an amused smile on Marcus's face as the vampire writhes and retches the stinging pain away.

"Not what you're used to?" he jabs gently, and she glares at him, eyes watering, only to rest her face on the tabletop.

At least Johnny's taste is somewhat gone, a good-bad thing...

"Is been a long day..." she said, muffled.

Marcus gave a noncommittal grunt, turning back to his magazine, but his eyes drift over the page.

He looks over at her again.

". . . Are you afraid to hurt him?" she hears him ask, and turns to stare at him, surprised.

Her reply is quiet, "What?"

He raised his hands in deference, "I'm sorry," he said slowly, watching her with dark eyes, "I'm just curious. I was hoping you'd correct me if I were wrong."

Mavis's eyes narrow, as she considers this human. She shrugs, sitting up and brushing her hair behind her ear, "Don't have anything else to do." she decided tiredly.

Marcus nodded, shifting in his seat to face her more directly, the magazine abandoned, "You do not feed from him, or from humans," he observed, watching her steadily, "Is it because you're afraid to hurt him, or them, or is it because you require...willingness?" At her angered expression he raises his hands again, placating, "Alright, alright, the first thing, then."

She nodded silently, and Marcus returned the gesture, leaning on his knees, "But it's...eating at you, isn't it? Your, uh, your abstinence?" he asked, watching her recoil slightly, but she stayed. He nodded again, to himself, "What do you eat then, if you no longer have your substitutes to rely on?"

Mavis frowned, now a bit uneasy about this line of questioning, but apparently that's answer enough for this human, as he tilts his head.

"You don't. Then what stops you?" he continues to ask, "If he's willing—"

Her open palm slams the table, slightly startling him, and her eyes meet his, ice-blue meeting near-black.

"It's not just because I'm afraid to hurt them," she said slowly, evenly, "It's because I just don't. I've never had anything other than Blood Beaters, I never plan to. It's not just that I'm afraid to hurt them, I'm just afraid that I wouldn't be able to stop..." she takes a breath as his eyes widen with something indecipherable, and she continues, easily finding the words now that she's spoken some of them, "I've never had to deal with this kind of thing, never thought this kind of thing would happen, and it scares me, because I don't know what will happen..."

"And that's why you fear for him, because it is him, the last person you want to happen to." she heard him say simply.

She nodded, shutting her eyes tight for a moment at the thought of that rich aftertaste.

"Yeah..."

He hums in thought, and silence falls again, filled with the distant pings of pipe-work and the subtle buzz of fluorescent lights that echo in the spacious hall.

"How would it be, then," he goes on, making her glance at him, "If someone was perfectly willing to feed you and accept the consequences that come with it with full knowledge and consent?" Her eyes widened, as he gets up and moves next to her, leaning a hand on the table so he was partly over her, casting a shadow, staring down at her evenly, ". . . I wouldn't mind." he said softly, leaning his head to the side, and her eyes automatically draw to his bared throat, "I even know people who would line up for something like this, and never think the worse of you, hell, they'd sing your praises..." he added, smiling slightly, making her blink.

"I-I don't understand." she mumbled, backing off a little as her seat allowed.

But he continues, "You think there's a catch to such a thing."

She doesn't answer, which is enough.

He smiles a bit more wryly, "There is," he admitted, leaning in almost conspiratorially, "But it benefits everyone. Simply...turn some...turn m—"

Marcus blinks as she's suddenly across the table, staring at him warily.

"Th-thank you for listening to me," the vampire said shakily, as the human stares at her, "I can't give...I-I, no, I can't, I'm sorry, bye."

He blinks, and then she's just gone, and now Marcus is alone in the mess hall.

. . .

The hand on the table slowly curls, blunt nails scraping along the laminate to clench into a white-knuckled fist...

. . .

Mavis is now huddled up in a dead-end of the duct system, gently hitting her forehead against the sheet metal.

Right now she wasn't sure if she hated humans, or if she just hated boys in general.

She missed flying. She 'missed' Johnny. She missed the hotel. She missed her dad.

And she was so, so tired...

Tomorrow.

She'd get to have that cup tomorrow evening, and then she and Johnny could talk, just talk, and things would be okay.

She'd just have to hold out until tomorrow evening.

. . .

"You need her..." It observed, as It soothed this broken, fearful, angry thing, and might have felt something like affection.

"Yes..."

"Her wings are clipped," It told the thing, "And her will is weakening as her hunger grows. But you will need some things, in order to get what you want..."

Dark, near-black eyes meet the ones It doesn't have; It feels a tremor of joy at this wonderful, wonderful investment that was coming so close to fruition.

"What do I need?" the investment asks—the perfect words!

It is happy to tell him.