Sorry for the long wait, everyone! But...I have a treat for you. ;) We'll say it's a thank you for sticking around for 27 chapters with no sexiness, haha.

Marko had never been a fan of emotionally hurting people—especially humans, who had such short lives and thus very fragile hearts. That wasn't to say he'd ever really felt bad for the humans before. Not on a personal level. Sometimes he allowed himself to feel some sympathy when he was directly at fault for the loss, but that sympathy only lasts for several short minutes. It's always quickly shoved away to make room for the present. His present. He didn't have much room for people that didn't matter to him.

Some might consider it selfish to only revolve around matters that concern him (and those he cares about, of course; he wasn't that self-centered), but the instinct to self-preserve was the reason he still walked this Earth. There had been many situations in the past that should have resulted in his demise—more than he liked to remember. He survived them because he didn't dwell on anything, ever. Even the death of his creator hadn't immobilized him for very long, though walking away from that had taken (and still continued to take) more from him than was probably healthy.

Something about breaking the news to Sam felt off. It could more than likely be attributed to the fact that Marko himself had experienced loss recently, and therefore felt more sympathy for the annoying human than he otherwise would have. But…there was something else.

Long after Sam left to who knows where (to mourn, no doubt), Marko sat in the kitchen, staring out the picturesque window and at nothing in particular.

It hurt him; that's why talking to Sam had felt so…strange. But that wasn't all. There was something else that he couldn't quite explain at first. It wrapped itself around his heart, his stomach, its fingers constricting and icy cold.

Unlike his creator or any of his siblings, he'd always felt a sense of kinship with others that extended beyond the blood he shared with his mostly-deceased vampire family. He formed bonds with others every now and then, and though his bonds with them were usually complicated, Marko was nothing if not loyal to those he trusted. Loyal and compassionate.

He could love without inhibition when someone grew on him enough and earned his trust, regardless of whether they were human or vampire. His gift and age allowed him to be sensitive to his surroundings, and combined with his natural tendencies toward empathy, he could be incredibly in-tune to anyone he formed a connection with.

Sam was growing on him; he couldn't ignore that. He'd blown up at the human just yesterday and sworn that they had nothing in common, but they did. They have several important things in common. And Sam… After seemingly about to open those blinds on Paul (which Marko could honestly give Sam a pass for, now), the human had done nothing suspicious. Nothing. Marko was inherently good at reading people; it didn't take long for him to know a person's true character. Sam…well, Sam was genuine—a very important trait when it came to earning Marko's trust. Sam was a little guarded yet (another thing that Marko liked, if he was being honest again), but he was a genuinely good person. Even more, he was a genuinely good person who had no glued loyalties to Max so far. To Marko, anyone loyal to Max was hard to trust—even Paul, sometimes…if only for the simple reason that Paul would be forced to do anything that Max ordered. Paul wasn't in complete control of his actions. None of Max's boys were, even if they (David) acted like it.

Yes, Sam was the most trust-worthy out of all of them. He wasn't entirely trusted, but Marko could see him being able to lean on Sam in the future—after a little work between them. Practically speaking, it would be smart to earn Sam's trust. Emotionally speaking, it might bite them both in the end.

He had enough experience under his belt to know that he could become friends with Sam. It would be easy; Sam was so young and hungry for acceptance. It wouldn't be a one-sided friendship, though, and that's why he hesitated to make a decision.

As Marko sat and thought, Dwayne stopped in the kitchen and grabbed some string cheese from the fridge. It wouldn't curb his appetite by any means, but the taste and comfort of human food kept Max's fridge stocked more often than not. (It was a waste of food, in Marko's opinion.) A few moments later, Marko faintly registered Dwayne calling Michael from the living room.

Next came David, his footsteps noisy on the porch steps as he came in through the side door in the kitchen. "Where's Sam?"

Marko turned his attention away from the window to give David a curious look. He just woke up and the first person he wanted to see was Sam? "Why?"

"Did you eat him?"

"No. He left hours ago."

Outside, trees blew in the wind, their branches bending into delicate arcs. Snowless, of course—not even frost-bitten. It was a modest fifty degrees outside. Temperature change didn't affect any of them, but he knew it had to feel damn chilly to humans who were used to eighty-degree averages the rest of the year.

It was also pitch black outside. It'd be interesting to see if Sam could find his way back home.

"Where did he go?"

"I don't know. Outside." He thought back to his conversation with Sam earlier—how shaken the poor human had seemed… "You should go find him."

Now David looked suspicious. "Why? What did you do?"

"Christ, David, I didn't do anything. I talked to him. He was upset when he left. He would probably like to see you right now, of all people." Marko knew about the attraction between them. Sam would take much better to seeing David than any of the others, with the exception of Michael. "I mean it. Go." He could see that David wanted to, but was still giving Marko that questioning look of his.

David went.

Leather was cool to wear, but it did very little in protecting Sam from the cold. It wasn't that chilly outside (though the wind was unforgiving), but compared to the temperatures he'd grown used to in Phoenix, this may as well be North Dakota.

Slight exaggeration. But still.

It's better than nothing, he chided himself. He was huddled up on the ground with his back to a tree and his knees pulled up to his chest, and damn was the ground cold, but he liked to think that his butt was warming it up, slowly but surely.

It was actually very calming being outside—quiet, save for the sounds of wind blowing through the forest and little creatures moving about on the ground and in the trees. He sat back and closed his eyes, breathing in fresh air and just…thinking. It felt good to think on his own, outside of that stuffy house where he felt surrounded by vampires all the time.

He didn't think of Lucy, or anything that would distress him. He thought of his brother, of that good-smelling shampoo he sniffed every time he took a bath, of the food he wanted to have in that house, of the various things he'd like to buy to help complete his transition into the vampires' home. Simple things that he hadn't really thought about since arriving there.

He thought about David—David's eyes, David's personality…David's fangs. Okay, that didn't have a very calming effect on Sam (though it wasn't a bad effect, either…), so he should probably move on from that…

What else was there to think about?

There was the fact that the last time he spoke with Marko, the vampire didn't seem to hate Sam's existence. That was good. Progress?

And Michael…well, Michael seemed to be adapting more and more to his new life every day—or so Sam hoped. They didn't get to see too much of each other. He just hoped that Dwayne was taking care of his brother, wherever they were last night when they missed most of Michael's own party… Did he even want to know?

Sam didn't know how long he sat out there. He'd become numb to the cold after a while, and the sun had gone down, but he'd evidently zoned out during the entire sunset. By the time he realized it was getting dark, he was already sitting in blackness. Or maybe he hadn't just zoned out. Maybe he'd fallen asleep, but not fully—a trance.

Nice, Sam. Real nice. Way to pay attention.

He stood, brushed off the dirt and forest junk from his butt, and realized he didn't remember which direction it was to Max's house. He hadn't been paying attention while walking to this place—he just…walked about nonsensically until he finally dropped into a sitting position and stayed there.

Fucking hell, Sam.

No, no—calm down. It was okay. He had a feeling that it was in…this direction. If he chose to walk in this direction and didn't reach Max's house, he'd reach something eventually.

He began walking, though his visibility was so low that he couldn't anticipate dips in the ground or fallen branches, and he nearly tripped more than once. His trek was very slow-going, but the eeriness of being alone in a forest at night made him walk a little faster.

In the far distance he heard barking—not howling, which was good (were there wolves to worry about here?)—but it made him stop dead as he exhaled all the air out of his lungs. It was a moment of reassuring silence before he inhaled again.

He had no way of telling how much progress he had made, but he was breathing heavily (more from jittering fear than fatigue) so he rested against a tree as he thought for a moment about how fucked he might be right now.

If only there was a way to communicate telepathically with his new friends. That would be very convenient at the moment.

Could Max read minds? Sam had gotten the impression that he could. From a distance, though? How far of a distance?

Max, get me the hell out of here!

He sighed and then jumped when he heard sticks snapping and something scuttling past him quickly. Whatever it was, it was probably just a small critter, he told himself. And it sounded like it had just run off into the distance. He was fine. It spooked itself.

He pushed off from the tree. Sticks broke under one of his footsteps, but before he broke his right foot forward, he heard the same noise from directly behind him only a split second before a hand came down on his shoulder.

"AH!" Jesus fucking Christ no no no NOT TODAY, he thought as he frantically shoved the hand away and darted away from it like a bat out of hell.

"Sam," a familiar, calm voice said, but Sam didn't stop until he ran directly into a hard body. If he didn't know better, he would have thought that there were two people trying to corner him—or that the person who had touched him had teleported. But the voice finally sunk into his brain, and he could (barely) make out familiar facial features in the man he just nearly hurt himself running into.

Sam took a step back, waiting for the stinging and aching pains in the front of his body to subside as he caught his breath. "My chest," he complained, rubbing it.

"Sorry," David apologized, shrugging lightly. "I tried to warn that I was behind you."

"By snapping some twigs half a second before you sneak up on me?" Sam shook his head, bent slightly at the waist as he held the sore spots on his chest and nose. He wasn't angry, though, or even irritated. He could try to be, but he didn't want to. He was glad that David was here—gladder than if any of the others had found him, if he was being honest with himself. "How'd you find me?"

"By scent."

"Right. Of course." He straightened his back and dropped his arms. "So you can see in the dark?"

"In this form I can."

Sam's eyes widened. "'This form'? What form are you in?"

He could practically sense David rolling his eyes. "My normal one," he responded, walking around Sam. Sam turned 180 degrees to follow David's form. "Why are you out here?" he asked while facing away from the other blond.

"My mom died."

David stilled. "I'm sorry." And Sam believed he was.

"It's okay. You don't have to be sorry. I…" Sam laughed without humor and felt tears welling up in his eyes. "I'm not heartbroken over it. Isn't that terrible?"

"No. It isn't," David said seriously. Sam almost flinched when he felt a hand rest on his shoulder; because of his blurred vision, he hadn't seen David turn around or move toward him.

"I guess I just wasn't that close with her," Sam explained, trying to hide the shake in his voice. "After my parents got divorced I lived with my dad, and she lived here, and I barely saw her. I got the impression she didn't like me that much but…I didn't care. I didn't want anything to happen to her but if I'd lived with you guys and never seen her again I wouldn't have missed having a mom that much…" I'm an awesome person.

"You didn't have a big motherly figure to begin with," David tried to reason gently. "It's okay, Sam. Don't feel like her death is supposed to crush you."

Tears slid down his cheeks and he bowed his head. "She was my mom, though," he breathed, and was unable to say any more.

David was silent. For a moment, Sam thought that he simply wasn't going to say anything else about this. And then… "I was close with my mother. But my father…" He paused, and Sam willed him to go on. Thankfully, he did. "I had no love for him. Just because you're someone's child doesn't mean you'll have a strong bond with them. You can choose who you consider to be family."

You can choose. Sam knew that, of course, but he'd never given it much thought before. "Were you upset when they died?" They had to be dead, if David was in his fifties (not including how old he'd been before being turned).

Sam swore that David smiled at him. "Come on, Sam" He turned away. "Climb on."

"What?"

"Climb on," David repeated, gesturing to his back.

It felt weird, but Sam walked forward quickly and jumped up on David's back. David didn't even sway, naturally, and grabbed hold of Sam's legs as Sam held onto his chest. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see." And David took to the sky.

Sam had half-expected they would just go home. He didn't expect them to go to the jewelry shop—the same one where he'd gotten his first piercings and also met his first group of vampires.

It was open, with customers inside and a young boy with shaggy, light brown hair working behind the register. David pulled Sam by the hand into the store; as soon as the young boy saw them, he graced them both with a smile that lit up his pale, delicate features. He couldn't have been any older than Sam…and that's when Sam realized who this probably was, even before David introduced them to each other.

"Sam, this is Laddie. Star and Dwayne work here on occasion but Laddie's here practically full-time. He makes most of the jewelry in here. Laddie, you've probably already heard about Sam—"

"Oh yeah. Star's told me about you," he said, bent forward over the counter and still smiling. "You're younger than I expected."

"Really?" Sam couldn't say the same for Laddie.

"We'll be downstairs," David informed Laddie, who shrugged and straightened himself.

So they weren't here to chat with Star's…with Laddie, after all. Sam returned Laddie's little goodbye wave and followed David through the overstuffed store and to a small storage area at the back of the room. It looked like a closet, complete with a broom and cleaning supplies and a fire extinguisher propped against its tightly-packed walls. None of the customers were nearby, which made David pulling open a trap door in the floor seem like something straight out of a movie.

"Whoa…" Sam's eyes widened. The steps were steep, and the area they led to was completely black.

"Human first." David gestured for Sam to go ahead.

"For real? What's down there?" David made the gesture again so Sam just sighed and made the precarious descend into darkness.

His nerves lit up once he had his footing on solid flooring again; the room felt huge because he couldn't see it, and he didn't know what to expect. He blinked when David descended after him and pulled the trap door shut again, encasing them both in total darkness.

Well, except for David, who could apparently see in the dark.

Sam heard a clicking sound, and then another just as a lamp flickered on several feet from where he stood. The lighting it provided was minimal, but enough to see that the room was smaller than he expected. It was adorned just like a loft would be—a living room merged with a bedroom, with an old fireplace to bring everything together.

It was chilly down here, like it was outside. David must have known this, because he began working to light the fireplace. "We have several different places we can sleep during the day," David began. "The basement of Max's house, the storm cellar outside, any of the beds there…and here. Those are our main options, at least."

"Why so many?" Sam asked curiously, taking a seat in a recliner near the fireplace. He turned to the side and pulled his knees up to his chest, comfortably nestled up and able to lean his head to the side so it could rest against the soft chair. "For personal space?" he ventured.

"For safety, just in case. But that, too." The fire added more lighting to the room, and much more warmth; Sam could feel it brush against his legs. David sat sideways on a loveseat, his legs stretched out across the purple cushions.

"Safety?"

"Well, there are people like Bernard who deliberately hunt us. Some other humans can be dangerous, too. Our own kind could pay to have us killed during the day. You never know. So we don't sleep in one area. Otherwise, if something happened, we'd all be slaughtered at once. The basement and bedrooms are the first place anyone would look, but the cellar is well-hidden—and nobody outside of my family knows about this place. Laddie does. And now you do, too. I come here for most days because it's quieter. It feels more secure."

Sam soaked in this new information he was suddenly being privileged with, but struggled to envision David feeling…insecure?...in regards to his sleeping arrangements. To be honest, Sam always thought David would be the last of Max's coven to worry about someone with a vendetta picking them all off during the day. "Marko's awake during the day."

"Which is why we feel a lot safer sleeping in plain sight. But I still like this place."

Sam smiled and relaxed further into the chair. "It's nice."

A comfortable silence passed between them before David spoke again. "I was nineteen when I was turned," he said suddenly, his gaze focused on the fireplace. "It was pretty young, but that sort of thing doesn't necessarily affect how you turn out as a vampire. I think Marko was somewhere around your age. Maybe a little older, but still. It obviously didn't make a difference, in the long run."

Sam went over that in his brain and fixed David with a perplexed look. "You mean I could become a vampire and my age right now wouldn't matter." Is that what David was getting at? "I'm fifteen, by the way."

David smiled half-heartedly to himself. "I know. Max picked up on a lot of things from you."

"Then you know I'm not all that interested in becoming a vampire." Sam quickly amended, "I mean, it looks cool. You guys obviously like it. But it just feels kind of…serious. And cold."

Now David looked amused. "Cold?"

"Yeah. You guys are freezing, this weather is freezing…you live in the dark, at night… It seems really cold. And depressing."

"That depends who you spend your nights with."

"Of course. But, David—"

"I don't want you to become a vampire, Sam," David assured him easily. "Believe me, I don't. I want you to enjoy being human. But Max…" Sam worried his lips, and David sighed to himself. "Did you know your grandma was a psychic too?"

"Yes. Because Marko told me today," Sam answered bitterly. "I still can't believe nobody ever mentioned that to me. He said she had close ties with you guys or something? What does that mean?"

David locked eyes with him, finally, and rubbed the side of his head. "Let me start over. I was turned when I was nineteen, by Max. I was living in Long Beach, where I had spent my entire human life. This was after World War I, the Depression and the big earthquake; they all ruined my family, and Star's. We both lived in Long Beach. We grew up down the street from one another. Her family was Catholic like mine, except while mine was uptight and abusive—" Sam winced at the honest word choice "—hers was flakey, neglectful. And I was an only child, but she had a sister, Abigail. Your grandmother. They were close, and I was close with Star."

It took Sam a moment to make the connection—and when he finally did, his eyes widened and he wanted to interject but David continued, and Sam let him. "So. The Depression, the earthquake… Life was shitty. I worked at this hotel, one that Max happened to be visiting at the time because he wanted to pay his respects to a well-known vampire who died during the earthquake or something. He can read thoughts, you know, so he knew all about my life right away. He picked me to be his first creation. Right away he planned on us leaving Long Beach, which I didn't have a problem with; my father was my first kill, so I didn't want to stick around for much longer. But I didn't want to leave Star, so I struck up a conversation with Max about it. He turned her, and learned about Abigail's ability. She was always a little off her rocker, but after all four of us left for Santa Carla, she got better. I think being around vampires helped her, for some reason."

"It helped me, too," Sam said very quietly.

"Like I said, I don't know why it would, but it does. She lived with us for a little while—only a few years—and you should know that Max was blown away by her. Her skills were amazing. I think he's hoping you will begin to shine for him, too. He was almost obsessed with her ability at first. But she met Bernard fairly quickly, and they were married and later had Lucy. Max backed off of her, and he and Bernard formed a truce for Abigail's sake. I didn't talk to her much after that. Neither did Star. Ten years passed, only it didn't feel like ten years for us. And then…she jumped over a cliff, the one right next to her house. Dwayne was with us by then, but he hardly knew her. Max believed that her mortal mind was too weak for her kind of gift, even though she was only thirty. She'd descended back into the state she was in as a kid. That's why Max is anxious to see where you'll go with your psyche. You're only fifteen but…I suppose he's already starting to worry. You'll be in your twenties before we know it. So…that's that."

Sam stared at him for a long, long time. David's first and only kill had been his father… Star was related to Sam… David and Star had loved Abigail; it hadn't been only about what she could do for them, like Sam had worried… Max was afraid of Sam aging…

Never had Sam expected David to forgo so much information—although, David had always seemed to be very forthcoming compared to the others. It was like he accepted Sam as being one of them, while the others were hesitant to include Sam in on the exclusive parts of their lives. And to share some facts about his human life, too…

David was sitting several strides away, his blue eyes focused on the fireplace. He looked beautiful…serene, even. His features were softened, though the lighting cast dark shadows across parts of his face and made the rest glow orange.

Sam felt beyond touched at the sentiment of all of this—the story-telling, the honesty, the comfort… Never before had he felt such a strong urge to get up, walk over there and—

But he couldn't do that…

Could he?

What would David do? Would he allow it to happen? Would he turn Sam down?

Sam sat forward, letting his feet touch the floor and his hands grip the armrests as he thought eagerly. David didn't seem to notice. If he did, he didn't so much as glance in Sam's direction.

He was brooding, Sam realized. Talking about his best friend's sister committing suicide hadn't been easy for him.

Sam's urge turned into a need.

What had David said before? I want you to enjoy being human.

"Bite me." The words stumbled out of his mouth in the form of a half-question, half-order before he could second-guess them some more.

Now David looked at him. He raised a single eyebrow and punctuated, "What?"

"I said bite me," Sam repeated, more confident this time. "I want you to bite me." David was quiet, and seemed to study him for a moment. "I mean it. There aren't any strings attached to that, right? Nothing happens."

"Right."

"So…do it." His heart thumped wildly in his chest in hopeful anticipation. He felt it was appropriate to add, "Please?"

David smiled at him, slowly, showing pointed fangs that had just appeared. His face was unchanged—although his expression was definitely…hungrier—but his eyes seemed to grow very dark. He swung his legs off the loveseat, mirroring Sam's movements just a moment before, except David remained seated on the couch, relaxed. "Come here."

Sam swallowed hard but stood up and began the awkward trek across the space that separated them. He felt very exposed and vulnerable under David's intense gaze, but at the same time, it thrilled him. He shed his leather jacket on the way over, figuring the collar would just get in the way, and walked until his knees touched David's.

His heart hammered away inside him, and now he faltered. What now? Did he…climb onto David's lap?

Thankfully David decided to take some initiative by leaning forward slightly and placing his hands above Sam's hips. Sam squirmed under his touch and just about lost his breath when David yanked him down at vampiric speed so that Sam's knees suddenly straddled David's thighs.

He knew he was probably red in the face—and that David could hear his erratic heart beat and breathing—but it was hard to care when he felt David's hands touching his body, unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it off.

Was this considered half-naked? He was straddling David's lap, half-naked. Never did any of his visions—even his late-night dream ones—ever point to this happening.

He jumped at first and wanted to recoil, because David's hands were so cold against his hot skin—but then David locked his eyes with Sam's again, and he didn't care anymore. His lips were slightly parted, and he wanted to breathe bite me again just to make sure David hadn't forgotten in the last minute, but David put his hand around the back of Sam's neck and pulled him in close. Sam automatically tilted his head, exposing his neck further. Funny—he never thought he'd ever want to be bitten, after what happened with Neil, but every part of his body (and especially one lower part in particular) was screaming yes just do it.

He flinched and gasped sharply when it finally happened. For a second, it hurt a lot, but all of that initial pain quickly receded and was replaced by a hot, tingly wave of bliss. Sam's chest was pressed up against David's, his hands braced on the back of the loveseat and eyes rolling back in his head. He quivered for a second from the strain of pointedly keeping his crotch (which was feeling very tight at the moment) away from David's. He made a noise that should never leave this room and, the next thing he knew, he was on his back with David's strong form hovering above him, pressing into him at two vital points—his neck and his still-fully-clothed-but-painfully-hard dick. As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he felt his face (his entire body, actually) grow intensely hot.

Sam moaned and rolled his hips upwards, searching for friction—and, God help him, David was hard, too, and he responded with a low growl against Sam's throat.

Sam could feel David's teeth leaving, replaced by a cool mouth and wet tongue. His hands grabbed at David desperately, pulling up the end of David's shirt so he could feel smooth, icy skin underneath it. "David," he gasped, needing to feel more. Take off your damn clothes.

David responded by wrapping a hand underneath Sam's knee and pushing it out further so they could grind rhythmically together, David's movements hard and immobilizing. Sam hadn't felt anything so pleasurable in his life. His breath caught in his throat, stars danced across his vision, and he shook under David's weight as he came from cloth-on-cloth action like the inexperienced virgin he was.

But that didn't deter David, who sunk his teeth back into Sam's neck and sucked eagerly, much to Sam's never-ending bliss. Sam thought his heart might burst from too much continued excitement, and he was feeling light-headed, but wasn't about to start complaining. He couldn't help but made unholy noises, and David's name was beginning to sound like the dirtiest thing he'd ever heard.

David pulled his fangs out of Sam's neck again, which allowed Sam to pant, "Oh my God you were right."

David was looking at him then, lips red and stained with blood. "Hm?"

It took Sam a few more heavy breaths before he could try to explain. "About it feeling good. Especially because your fangs are all ripened." He didn't know how much sense that made. "How old are you again?"

David smiled, and Sam's eyes gravitated to his bloody canines. "Fifty-two."

Sam gasped and arched his back when he felt the new, blissful sting of David's teeth in his collarbone.