This has not been beta read. all mistakes are mine.

Fixed a missing sentence.

The vampire blocked the cross, grabbing it easily at the joining. It didn't produce so much as a sizzle. He yanked it from the young man's grasp. "Easy there, I have more faith in that particular symbol you are holding than you do." He gently pushed his attacker backward and set the cross down on the desk. "You are not a very good hunter are you?" He had a strong cockney accent and his eyes glittered in amusement. "Also…" He sniffed the air. "You must be new to try something this stupid. And you don't smell familiar…so the name is Newkirk, Peter – Corporal."

"Thomas Bakerson, Private…" The blonde child stammered out, unsure of the odd turn this night had taken. "I just got here two days ago." He was American, with those blue eyes that marked him as one of Carter's ilk – those of the eternally optimistic.

"Makes sense – I haven't been awake in three." The vampire gestured to the seat by the desk, "The Colonel will be along in a minute – best take a seat. You will need to explain yourself. We don't take attacks on other men lightly around here."

"But you are a…!" The word died in his throat. "What are you, sir? You aren't like any vampire my parents ever told me about. I haven't seen a single thrall the last three days – a master vampire doesn't go without a thrall or two at least."

The vampire's eyes shifted red for a moment when he used the terms 'master' and 'thrall'."A master vampire? Well, I'm not as uppity as that – I'm the only vampire around here and I've worked hard to keep it that way. Besides the Colonel is in charge and while a good many of us may fit the definition of Thrall, considering all the bloody stupid things we do for him, no one listens to me. And how would you even be able to tell? You obviously don't have a clue what you are doing."

"Well I would sense them wouldn't I? The way I sensed you."

"How should I know?"

"Peter! You are awake!" Kinch came through the office doors and wrapped the vampire in a fond embrace with the vampire awkwardly returned.

"All parts of me seem to be functioning this evening, yeah. Where is the Guv?" He distanced himself from the SGT quickly, almost nervously.

"He and Louis went out – last minute underground thing. Tiger came by with a few things for you. I put them down in your sewing room. "Bakerson? What are you doing in here?"

"Trying to stake me…bit of Hunter in the bloodline. Probably thought his parents were crackers and then a funny little feeling hits him and he's trying to end my afterlife."

If the vampire's reactions seemed a little too relaxed, the glare that SGT Kincheloe gave him was anything but. Bakerson felt a cold chill run down his spine. "I didn't know!" He squeaked.

"Didn't know what?" Kinch ground out, towering over the slender private.

Bakerson bolted to hide behind the vampire, betting it was safer than standing by Kinch. "I didn't know he was…manageable."

Newkirk chuckled and Kinch's face softened. "Manageable? You obviously don't know me. Give the kid a break Kinch; it's in his blood you know. It's almost like the hunger, hard to ignore."

Kinch backed off and took a seat on the bunk. "Alright, Newkirk but you are going to have to explain that to the Colonel and he is feeling a bit overprotective right now."

Peter moved away from the kid and leaned against the wall, pulling a cigarette he lit it but let it sit between his fingers. "Considering how I feel, I can imagine…what happened the other night?"

Kinch frowned and set his elbows on his knees so he could lean forward. "You don't remember?"

The vampire shook his head and then took a long drag from his cigarette before answering. "No…nothing after we left Wirtshaus." His eyes were turning red around the edges, the only sign that he was uneasy, the rest of him so relaxed he was nearly boneless.

Every nerve in Bakerson was on edge screaming that he was in danger – but the vampire just leaned against the wall and smoked.

Kinch waited until Newkirk was on the second cigarette to answer and the vampire did not prompt him for an answer. "We probably should wait for the Colonel" He looked at Bakerson as if remembering he was there "and for the kid to leave, lest he loses his belief that you are….manageable."

Peter took another long drag, impossibly long for a human and then blew out the smoke like a dragon. "Hilarious mate" He rolled his eyes, knowing that Kinch was passing the buck rather than trying to protect the Private, "but I don't think I am going to shock the kid. He grew up with stories about all the bumps in the night I wager."

Kinch swallowed, his nervousness growing stronger. His voice went soft. "You may change your mind when you hear the story, Peter." A scent caught Newkirk's interest as Kinch talked, something sour and wrong but before he could pin it down a new voice rang out from the doorway.

"I thought meetings in my office were supposed to have me in them?" Colonel Hogan smirked at the occupants of his office, clearly pleased with himself about something. His eyes swept over Kinch, then Bakerson, then Newkirk – his mischievous grin turning to a thoughtful frown.

"Good to see you up, Newkirk."

His reaction was not lost on Newkirk. Hogan couldn't even muster up a front of excitement. Instead he seemed even more nervous than Kinch. "Good to be up Guv. Though next time yew 'ave a 'un'er runnin' loose around da place, yew may wan' ter leave a note on me bedside table. Terrible shock yew know an' I can't 'andle much mawer ov those dis year."

"English Peter." The Colonel chided, his eyes glazing over from the stream of slang assaulting his senses. It had the desired effect, the Colonel relaxed.

"That was English." The vampire smirked. "Long and short of it – you have a hunter here and he tried to brain me with a cross." He inclined his head to Bakerson who smiled and waved sheepishly. "He has no real training and no idea what he is doing."

"Then what makes him a hunter?"

Newkirk's eyes unfocused for a second, becoming almost entirely red before snapping back to their grey blue – like he was stopping to remember something from a long time ago."Blood mostly – the urge to hunt and kill the undead is as strong in his blood and the urge to kill and eat humans is in mine. Only I'm guessing there isn't a lot of undead in…I am going to guess Kansas." He lit a third cigarette.

Bakerson smiled a small painful smile. "Indiana sir but good guess and no – no one in my family knows anything but Grandpa's stories. His very, very detailed stories. I thought he was crazy…until I saw Corporal Newkirk and followed him in here."

Hogan looked at both men, imagining what that scene had looked like. "Well, that was incredibly…"

"Stupid…" Bakerson filled in the word that Hogan really hadn't wanted to use. "I know Sir. I just couldn't help myself."

"Well, since Peter actually seems to be in better shape than last I saw him so I will overlook it this time but no repeat performances. You are excused Private. Go back to your barracks and get some sleep, it's getting late."

Bakerson fled: his relief so palpable that Peter wrinkled his nose. Kinch stood and excused himself, closing the door behind him – leaving Hogan and Peter to stare at each other for several long moments. Peter extinguished his cigarette in the desk ashtray giving Hogan plenty of time to break the silence. When he declined to do so; Peter took a seat in the sole chair by the desk. "What happened?" It was a plea more than a demand though his voice was hard.

Hogan took a seat on the bunk and sighed, a long tired sigh. "What do you remember last?

"Wirtshaus."

"Wirtshaus?" Hogan blinked, the shock evident on his face. "Newkirk, that was nearly two weeks ago."

Peter smelled the lie and swore, in German, English and a few languages Hogan had never heard before but he didn't seem surprised – just livid. His eyes went pure red even through the white and he snarled. "I thought I smelled Blood Magic when I woke." Then he stopped and looked at Hogan, taking a delicate sniff and then another deeper one. An expression that Hogan had not seen before, and never wanted to again, came over his face – an expression of possessive rage. "Colonel – show me your neck." Command tinged his voice and Hogan obeyed without a second thought or even a twinge of irritation.

Newkirk stared for a moment at two small nearly invisible holes above the carotid artery on his CO's neck and growled. "You have been feed on in the last 24 hours."

Hogan pulled away in shock, snapping out of Newkirk's command. His eyes were wide as saucers. "What! That's impossible. You keep all the others away from here." Even as he spoke he didn't doubt his man, Newkirk didn't make this sort of stuff up even if he did look like you could knock him down with a feather – if he smelled a vampire there was one to smell.

Newkirk sniffed again this time Hogan's lapels, latching onto his jacket with long fingers and getting entirely too close for comfort. "Female, a Sister…" He pulled back releasing Hogan, eyes now black, fangs descended and skin as pale as a winter's moon. Hogan had never seen him look less human and shivered despite himself.

The smell of fear brought Peter back to himself and he took several steps back his eyes turning back to human eyes full of fear and self-loathing. Fingernails cut half moon rivulets of blood into his palms. He swayed, his reserves not up for the events of the evening. He had not fed in three days and his wounds had taken so much out of him. He sat back down on the chair, propping his head up in his hands, fingers twisted in his dark, disheveled hair. Then suddenly, something that had been nagging at him in the back of his mind surged to the forefront of his thoughts and he sat up straight, pinning his confused guvner with his gaze."Where is Klink?"