Revelations

Disclaimer: I own Jake but no one else.

Summary: Just a little bit about the artist and his subject.

Reviews: Yes please. Let me know what you think, even if you don't like it. Readers rock but Reviewers RULE!!!

A/N: I know this is woefully short. I had more but decided to put it in a separate chapter because… well… I'm just mean. Ask anyone. They'll tell you. I am. Okay, okay, I decided not to include it because it wasn't working and these two beautiful men wanted it to end here.

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Jake stood in the doorway of the former guest bedroom, now the room of his semi-permanent housemate. He leaned his lanky form against the doorframe. Running a hand through his tobacco brown hair wearily, he gazed at his guest with tired gray eyes. He'd heard the nightmares again last night. They seemed to be a nightly occurrence now. It hadn't been so bad the first few weeks but as time flowed by, the more violent the nocturnal interruptions became. Moving away from the door before the other man could stir, Jake went into the kitchen to make coffee. That done, he wandered into the spare room he used as a studio. The half-finished painting on the easel beckoned and the young man moved over to study it. As an artist, Jake appreciated the lean features and high cheekbones of the soul weary man he'd taken in. Not that he'd had much choice in the matter. But Jake was just a little frustrated by his new friend's unwillingness to have his full face depicted on canvas.

The coffee maker beeped and he moved back to the kitchen to pour himself a large cup of the potent caffeine. With the ease of several months of practice, he opened the refrigerator and removed a bag of animal blood, opened it and dumped the contents into an empty mug. It had been quite a shock to Jake's psyche to discover that vampires actually existed. His guest had begun wasting away despite putting away copious amounts of food. It had been when Jake had accidentally sliced his finger open while preparing dinner that the other man's true nature had been revealed. The rich red blood welling from the small cut had caused the mysterious guest to morph into what Jake had found out to be vampire features. They had both been stunned and more than a little frightened. The blond had puzzled over the problem of how to obtain the required blood before a lost memory had surfaced. The next day Jake had visited the butcher and arranged to purchase animal blood on a regular basis. Jake had arranged to pay the greedy merchant enough to ensure he didn't tell anyone about the unusual purchases.

Jake shook himself from his musing and shoved the mug into the microwave to heat. Contrary everything Jake had ever read about vampires, his guest had never attacked him. He was quiet for the most part, he got quite vocal if he missed Passions. He slept at night and roamed the house restlessly during the day. Well, most of the night. He generally went to bed around two or three in the morning and slept until noon. Jake supposed it was hard for a creature of the night to adapt to human timetables. What Jake found most perplexing was that his guest showed absolutely no inclination to leave the house. Since his arrival, he hadn't left. Not once. He wasn't showing any signs of wanting to leave either. Not that Jake minded, it's just that he couldn't figure out why anyone would make himself a virtual prisoner.

Jake smiled a little as he remembered how they'd discovered his houseguest's name. He'd been making dinner and had needed something that was directly behind the vampire.

Pointing to the counter, he'd begun a request: "Will…you…?" It had been hesitant because of the reaction on the pale face following the word 'will'. Wide frightened eyes had held his for long seconds.

"I think that's my name." He'd blurted.

"What's your name?" Jake had been confused.

"Will. I think my name is Will." He'd stammered. Jake had nodded. 'Will' it was then.

A noisy yawn attracted Jake's attention. Glancing over he saw Will leaning against the doorway lazily running a hand through his unruly curls. His sapphire eyes were still half closed.

"Smelled breakfast." He hesitated. "And the coffee." His refined British accent had startled Jake the first time he'd heard it. He hadn't known what to expect but it hadn't been that. The microwave beeped and Jake pulled the mug out and set it on the table. The Brit sat down and sipped the red liquid with a sigh. "Thanks, Mate. You do realize that I'm quite capable of preparing my own blood. Right?"

Jake gave a small smile. "Right. It's just that I'm always in here first and it's no problem. I don't mind. It doesn't even wig me out anymore."

Slender fingers tightened on the mug handle. That phrase resounded through his already aching head. 'wig me out'. Why did it make him feel… lost?

Jake noticed the whitened knuckles. "Bad night?" He asked.

A nod. "Wish I knew why. It's getting worse. The fire. The light. Burning pain. I was dust and I don't know why I'm not any more. I was at peace. I was warm, loved. I knew that everyone I cared about was safe." He stopped abruptly. Those words. He'd said them before but this time he seemed to be hearing them differently. The same female voice that haunted his nightmares was repeating those same words with him. His voice dropped to a whisper. "I think I was in heaven."