"Oh my God, I'm back again..." cues music to Everybody by the Backstreet Boys, changing lyrics.....

Huh, oh sorry. I'm getting tired of writing the same thing over and over and over.

Seriously though, thanks for reading. For this chapter I would like to thank a new site I found called Learning Russian dot com. It has the transliterations for Russian, so I don't have to write in Cyrillic, lol. I'm detailed, but not THAT detailed. Speaking of details, this chapter is sort of dry in spots. More excitement to come in the next chapter.

All characters besides canon ones are of my own creation. Names for the people who run the charities in the story come from my own imagination. Though I know some of them, in no way is this meant to resemble them at all. Except the fact that the head of Center Street Mission was nominated for a Jefferson Award.

The reference to Linz comes from the Susan Garrett story Kind Soul and is used with her permission. See Susan's website for the Dorian stories to read it. Just type in Kind Soul and it should come up.

Same rating, same permissions, same everything. Oh, and I know how to end this now, only took a year...

CHAPTER 14

Cary was still reeling some when they landed on the turret above his bedroom. Colin opened the door mentally, making Nick take a small gasp of surprise. Colin looked at him as he led the way down the stairs to the bedroom proper.

"Some have one talent, some have another," he told the blond.

"I've never seen a vampire do that," whispered Nick, in a sort of stunned awe.

"Oh, there are vampires who can do much more than that," replied the Enforcer, watching Alex place Cary rather tenderly into the bed. "Take his maker, for example," he said pointing at the tipsy one. "She has powers that would astound you."

"Does he?"

Colin thought a moment. "Not that I've ever seen. I don't know whether that's from ignorance about them or just not having the capabilities. All vampires, Nick, have powers in one form or another, but need to be taught how to use them. You should see some of the fledglings we see.

"They don't even know how to fly. Some don't even know how to feed."

Nick shook his head. If anything, LaCroix certainly took his education in hand—and did it well at that.

"I can't imagine one who doesn't know how to feed," he said in disbelief. "I've seen others ignorant of other things perhaps, but that one thing?"

"Well," began Colin, and then cleared his throat at Alex. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Undressing him, priyatel," said back the Russian vampire, using a rather familiar form of address, sort of being 'buddy'.

"Why?"

"He'll be uncomfortable sleeping in his clothes." Alex was the picture of innocence, hand at Cary's belt.

"Give him a few moments and he'll be fine." At Alex's look, he glared at him, hard. "You don't want to make me angry Alex. Don't push it."

"Poshyol ti," muttered Alex, under his breath, using a very rude expression indeed.

"What did you say to me?" demanded Colin, getting gold in the eyes, fangs extending.

"Nothing, nothing at all," Alex backpedaled, realizing he had overstepped.

"Make sure of that, Alexandro Dmitrovich, panimat?"

"Da," replied he, chastened, with a longing look at Cary. Nick felt almost sorry for such unrequited passion. He could understand it, though.

"Good. Now, Nick, to get back to your earlier statement, I'll give you an example. Not too long ago we had a rouge bringing humans across for no reason other than plain arrogance. He would snatch them from clubs, bite them, and then leave them on their own with no knowledge of what was happening to them. Quite a few burnt to death, not realizing about the sun. Those who survived fed on hunger instinct alone and quite messily at that. Some of these died of starvation."

"So what happened?" Nick asked, thinking this had to be one of the worst willful massacres since Linz. For after all, the vampire did leave them to perish.

"We caught up with him and he was rather properly punished. I don't think you really want me to go into those details..."

The blond shook his head. "You're right, I don't."

"Smart lad." Colin smiled then, eyes back to normal color and fangs retracted.

On the bed, they heard a soft moan as Cary put his hands to his forehead.

"God, what did that man have to drink?" He asked, trying to shake it off.

"Ah, lyubimyj moj, are you feeling better?" Alex was all sympathy.

"I am thank you."

The auburn vampire smiled and placed a soft chaste kiss to Cary's temple.

"Good."

Cary turned to Nick, his eyes still a little dazed from the blood and the alcohol.

"So, you did well. Congratulations."

"Did I pass? Anymore little tests?"

A shake of the head, then Cary put a hand up as if he had a headache.

"Yes, you passed and no more tests."

Nick smiled. "Good."

Colin took a look at the sky, though his internal clock told him how far away from sunrise it was.

"It's getting lighter. We have to go. Alex?"

"I think I'll stay here, make sure Cary's alright."

Colin gave a small mirthless laugh.

"I don't think so. Let's go."

For a moment, Nick thought he was going to refuse. The Russian had more sense than that, though. He gave Cary another small kiss.

"Ya postoyanno dumayu o tebe."

"I'll think of you also, Alex. Good morning."

"Dobry dyen. Paka."

This to Nick as well, who returned the sentiment, which meant good morning, see you later. With that, he turned to go down the stairs to the car that he and Colin drove up in.

The Enforcer shook his head. "He gets more and more blatant with you every night, my friend."

Cary shrugged. "It doesn't do any harm. It's sort of flattering," he admitted.

Colin shook his head. "Be careful, Cary. It might be innocent now, but one day he might really try something and someone is going to be very hurt—emotionally, maybe even physically."

"I know how to handle myself Colin. I've had it happen for over a century now. Do you think Alex is the first man to ever proposition me? Hellfire, when I was a mortal child my brother tried to pimp me out on the streets—and not to ladies either. Trust me; I know how to manage him. I've been doing it for over a decade now."

"I'm just saying, be careful. Alex knows very little scruples and you know this."

Cary nodded, placating the elder vampire. Colin was more respectful of Cary, not only because of his leadership position, but also because of his maker. Helena was not one to mess with.

Nick watched all of this with interest. The three vampires—Colin, Cary, and Alex, seemed to be close friends. But there was always an undercurrent of something. Then of course, he thought, vampires were predatory creatures, never quite trusting of anyone. Especially other bloodsuckers.

Colin bid them goodbye and left to join Alex in the car—a Porsche, Nick noted with amusement. They certainly did not mind flaunting the wealth here.

Cary gave Nick a glance and then walked out his bedroom door and down to the back parlor and pressed the flashing light on the answering machine.

"Darling, Jill. I have to leave for LA. I'll be back on Saturday. Hugs and kisses." Then a big smacking sound.

"Cary, we have a supply chain problem. Call me. If not, I'll see you tomorrow night."

"Andy," Cary told Nick. "My VP."

Nick remembered Andy—or Andrew as he introduced himself. A very proper British vampire who had been dressed in Harris tweed at a nightclub.

"Nick, this is Esme. Sorry I had to leave like that but the whole system went down here. I'll be out of town a few more days and I'll call when I get back. J'taime."

"J'taime? Nicolas, you dog."

The current slang sound so strange from Cary's mouth, Nick started to laugh. A few more messages, one from an insurance salesman and then Cary gave a huge yawn.

"Bedtime for me, Nick. I'll be laid out on the floor soon. Morning."

With that, Cary gave another yawn, resting a moment against the stairwell and trudged heavily up the stairs.

Next night, Nick awoke rather early. The sun was just setting with another spectacular show. That was the one thing he had to admit about Reno—they had beautiful sunsets. Of course, once it went behind the mountains it got dark rather quickly. Even now, in late spring it also got rather chilly.

He showered and dressed casually in black dress pants and a lighter blue shirt. Cary was still asleep he noticed as he went down for breakfast.

He was reading the newspaper, when Cary appeared, impeccable in his Ralph Lauren suit of charcoal grey.

"Alright Nick, I'm out of here. I'll see you tonight. Oh, and keep Friday open."

"Why?"

A slight smile as if hiding something from the other. "No reason. Just keep it open."

Nick shrugged. "Alright."

"Going to see how the plans are going?"

"No, I have a meeting with Project Restart. Center Street Mission has a database of clients and I want to go over that." (A/N: I know because I created it for them. Back to the story, sorry)

"Sounds like an enjoyable evening," Cary cracked. "Me, I'll be on the phone all night, or the computer trying to get things flowing smoothly. Our clients depend on us. See you."

And with that he was out the door, into his car, and off down the street. Nick finished his reading and washed his glass out. Then a last minute check to see if he had everything and he too was out the door.

A week before hand, the Caddy had arrived. Nick quickly got it registered and smogged and turned his drivers' license from a Canadian one to a Nevada one. Instead of Larry Merlin doing the work though, Esme's company did it and did it very efficiently. Nick was impressed and told Cary so.

Traffic was rather light so he decided to take a tour and turned right on McCarran Boulevard. This led south, as the loop circled the outskirts of the city. It was a nice drive and he had driven it often heading toward his building.

The road led down and around past Skyline and through the Park Ridge golf course past Plumas. Signs noted he was in the Toioyabe National Forest. From here the road went in an easterly direction, passing Keitzke, 395, and Virginia Street, with the towers of the Atlantis visible in the background. The torches that would define the hotel were not built yet, but the building was still an impressive site. Nick could also spot the rainbow colored letters of the Peppermill. If you looked you could see the laser show in the Atlantis' atrium. The street meanered past Meadowood Mall and once past Longley Lane, turned northward. It passed Mira Loma Park and Rock Boulevard in Sparks and Nick exited on Mill Street. A few miles up the road, over the city line that divided Reno from Sparks and he was at his building.

It was a long building of two stories, meant to be headquarters for some corporation. He pulled into the parking lot, admiring the newly painted yellow stripes designating parking and noticed the handicapped signs were up. He pulled into a spot labeled administration (he had refused his own space) and exited the Caddy, locking the doors for Reno had a wee bit of a problem with car theft. Major crime was almost nonexistent, but larceny lurked everywhere in the world.

The head of Project Restart, Jim Edwards, came to greet him.

"Place is looking good, Nick."

"Thanks," he greeted the tall, distinguished looking gentleman. Jim Edwards was an older man—Nick guessed early 50's with white hair. He dressed and acted like the rancher he once was—complete with Stetson hat and boots. For all that, he was a sophisticated gent who owned several real estate properties in town.

The two men walked into the building through the main doors. Nick had wanted glass doors for his entryway and was tried to be talked out of it. He prevailed though he did give in to the demand for tempered glass, not easily broken.

The reception area was bright and cheerful looking with comfortable chairs and a couch or two. The main desk, which would be manned by residents on shifts, stood new looking with holes for the computer equipment yet to be placed. The smell of sawdust and paint were in the air and Nick wrinkled his rather sensitive nose at it.

Down a corridor were the offices. It was decided that there would be very few employees on salary. The director, bookkeeper, social worker and teachers would be paid. All the rest would come from volunteers—either the residents themselves or community service workers. Off to the left was Nick's own office, smack in the middle of the building with no windows anywhere. The rest rooms, day room, and accounting office surrounded it. Nick was more than pleased with the arrangement the firm he had hired had come up with.

He entered his office with Jim on his heels and greeted the people in the room. Included were representatives from most of the charitable organizations in town including Center Street, the Gospel Mission, Salvation Army, CASA, Saint Vincent's, CAAW, HAWK, and others. In all, there were 12 people in the room of varying ages, educational backgrounds and race.

The meeting proceeded, with Nick laying out his plans. The residents would be referred from other agencies and would include homeless families. Homeless men, while more numerous, had a myriad of places to stay, though Nick told them he wanted to eventually open a satellite building for men.

The residents would be granted an extended stay, provided they met certain criteria for work. Since Reno was a 24 hour town and a lot of jobs included the graveyard shift, daycare would be provided on a round the clock basis. If a person could not work for some reason, they would work at the shelter.

All residents were required to apply for assistance—including housing and Nick went over several homes and apartments which could be used for transitional housing.

The more plans were made, the more excited Nick grew. This was a good move, he thought. Yes, he missed Toronto and his friends, especially Nat, but this was fulfilling work. He could truly atone here by helping others to get their life together.

Nick explained carefully why he would not be seen during the day very often, and provided medical reasons for it. A lot of sympathy went his way and Nick decided that he would take the graveyard duties. He got an inward laugh out of this for he had lived on the night shift for over 800 years. Of course he could emphasize with the third shift workers, he lived his life in third shift.

The meeting lasted about three hours but was very productive. Nick went over the ad copy for the Gazette Journal for the positions that were needed.

The gathering broke up and people milled around before leaving as they were wont to do at these affairs. Bethany pulled him aside with the news about George Stevens.

"It was terrible, Nick. He must have committed suicide, but no blood was found at the scene. Very strange."

"No doubt," commented Nick dryly. "How's Judy holding up?"

Bethany shook her head.

"Poor girl, she cried and cried. She blames herself, saying if she had not left then George would still be alive."

"Alive, but she would possibly be dead and Jessica as well."

"That's what we have been trying to tell her," Bethany agreed. "But you know how abused women are..."

"Yes, I know," said Nick, thinking of the several he had known in his life, including Janette. "That's why Nanette's Place is so important to me."

"I understand. You know, I was in that situation myself once. It was after the state took my son from me that I cleaned up my act—leaving my ex and going into rehab and getting my degree. The proudest moment of my life was when they gave my son back to me. He's at Reno High now. He plays in the band and is an honor student. That was my best revenge back at my ex."

Nick smiled at the women with a lot of respect. That was what people needed, a second chance. The director of Center Street was a former crank addict and now was so respected she had been nominated for a Jefferson Award.

Soon everyone left and Nick took out his key and opened the three locks to his private upstairs lair. Sentimentality made him dress it up to look very similar to his loft back in Canada. The furniture was different and it was slightly more upscale, as he didn't have to hide the fact that he had money, but from windows to skylights it was remarkably the same. Nick looked around in satisfaction. The phone had been installed and he looked at it for a few moments, debating. A decision was made and he dialed the 416 area code direct.

The phone rang several times and soon the familiar voice came on the line.

"Hi, Nat? It's me Nick."