Holy Hell, 2 YEARS!... I have some explaining to do, AFTER the chapter


Steve awoke to find himself flat on his back staring up at the pale blood-moon. He looked around himself and found his kin in the same supine position. A sudden ringing in his ears urged him to stand and clutch the sides of his heads as if in pain. He began walking straight—alongside the large crowd.

He was in a large field, barefoot, and with clothes that seemed to share more in common with the kitchen rag than they did his normal uniform. The ringing became louder the more he went forward. He wanted to stop walking, look around for Tony, for anyone that he recognized, but all the faces were pale and dead, long since lost their luster of youth and vitality. Steve took a deep breath instead, keeping his head low, and followed the sound.

He slowly trudged up the cobbled steps, just now noticing there was a large castle in front of him. It was old and decrepit; the years having taken their toll on the architecture. Large, loose stones hung warily overhead, feeling as if a feather could unbalance the precarious weight and have an avalanche of rock fall and flatten the crowd. This made Steve hurry to enter the expansive wooden door that lead into a series of twists and turns reminiscent of a maze. It would be apropos to point out just how much of a rat he felt like at this moment.

The large crowd emptied into an even bigger one, where hundreds of bodies huddled closely, all packed like sardines staring intently at the solitary figure who stood above them all. Steve tried to make out the face, but all he could see was pale skin and silver hair, the black robes that covered the body didn't help either. More people emptied into the large ball-room, pushing the crowd further inward. Steve hard-pressed himself through the bodies, trying to get a closer look at the pale face who stood so tall and impenetrable.

The ringing had transformed into a sort of murmur, it took Steve second to realize that it was a voice, low and rumbly like the inside of a volcano. It repeated one word like a mantra: come.

Steve, surprisingly, was able to force himself to the front of the crowd, he wasn't quite sure if he had wanted to do that now, seeing as the being in front of him was none other than Dracula himself. Lucky for him, it didn't seem like the king of vampires was cognizant of his appearance. Steve could only be thankful for that small blessing.

"My children!" Dracula finally spoke, when he did so Steve and the others froze in place. It had felt as if the vampire's voice had been directly in their ears. It made Steve shudder, the unwanted closeness eliciting a series of winces that replicated those of a man going through small bouts of seizures.

"I know you are wondering why you are all here!" Dracula said again, looking at them individually yet never seeing them. "All your questions will be answered soon, but you must be patient. Some of you have just turned and are wondering how this came to be. Do not worry my children, I will be there to guide you to your true path." Dracula said, an almost soft quality to his tone of voice.

Steve couldn't help but relax into the crowd like many others were doing. It was as if Dracula's voice was an elixir that calmed and soothed his frayed nerves. In that moment, Steve only wanted to do as he was told; later, he'd come to his senses, but as it stands he was quite content with just listening.

"I have one small request for you my children. You are many in number and I am but just one, it would be quite the injustice if I should perish, but death for an immortal is a slow and painful process. I must transfer myself to a stronger, more suitable corpse." Dracula said, a hint of weariness creeping into his voice. "Who among you is worthy to uptake this task? Who among you is willing to part with your bodies? I need the strongest soldiers in my army if I must survive!" Dracula pleaded, locking eyes with his children, but still not looking at them. He only had so much control—if he were to focus too much on any one, he would lose them all.

Steve felt a sudden stirring in his chest. He wanted to be the one! He wanted to raise his hand and rush to the aid of Dracula. He almost did, but something stopped him. Something corporeal and out of this reality he had suddenly woken into. He wanted to leave now, he wanted to chase after that thing that seemed so real and alive compared to these dead faces.

"No one? No one is willing to be my vessel?" Dracula asked, sounding genuinely disappointed. "You newer vampires have a knack for stubbornness, I must admit that. If a bribe is necessary, I can assure you that you will have my fortune, my castle, and reign over all the vampires." Dracula said, something in his face slipping as he let a small self-satisfied grin through. "What do you say?"

The crowd began murmuring amongst itself, trying to decide if giving up their current life was worth being the new Dracula. Whatever that meant.

"No? I will give you some time to think about it. For the moment, I will assign you one task: feed. The stronger you are, the stronger I will become in twine. Now go, I will summon you henceforth when you are needed." Dracula said. With those words, he dispelled whatever hold he had on them and Steve was finally able to chase that corporeal being that had anchored him to his place, preventing him from doing something brazen.

Steve woke up with a long gasp, his throat a furnace with how much it burned. It reminded him of the first time he had woken after his half transformation. His head also ached, then he looked to the window and realized the blinds were wide open—letting the morning sun stream in. He wondered why they were open, he had remembered purchasing black-out curtains for his room and making sure that they were permanently closed. He stood from the bed, not thinking rationally, trying to get the annoyance out of the way.

As his hand reached for one of the blinds, it passed through the sun-ray. He leapt backwards, baring his fangs, and hissing at the offensive light. He clutched his hand and took a second to look at it, noticing a large rash that slowly healed itself. Steve momentarily forgot about the burn on his throat and focused on the one on his hand. He approached the light more cautiously now, holding his uninjured hand to the ray once more, marvelling (in a twisted way) as large plumes of smoke rose from his skin as the small ray burned through his hand like paper.

When the pain became unbearable, he removed his appendage and quickly shut the blinds. He tried to understand what this now meant. Was he fully a vampire now? He'd never burned up in the sun before. Steve knew that it could only have been a matter of time before the scales would tip. He'd just wished he and Tony could have figured out a solution to the problem before it got so out of hand.

Tony… feed.

Feed. Feed. Feed. FEED. FEED. FEED. FEED. FEED.

Steve was on the still body in an instant, remembering (in fleeting moments) what had transpired last night, why he was in this bedroom as opposed to his own. An automatic reflex took hold, rendering all thought impossible as he grabbed for Tony's neck, following that pounding mantra that had been bestowed upon him by none other than Dracula himself.

He wanted to fight this, fight this command that rendered all the prior love and tenderness he'd had for Tony basically useless. His mouth, however, filled with the familiar sting of venom and as he bit down, with no hesitation, he found the voice in his head (that dark voice, that once he's done feeding he'll dissect) was contentedly receding, giving his brain some more space to be itself.

"Steve!" Tony squealed, after being violently awoken by Steve's sharp fangs. No matter how many times they had done this, those suckers were sharp, and the initial bite always felt like a serrated knife cutting through his skin. Tony had noticed that Steve would sometimes lick the place before he bit it, that always had a sort of numbing effect on the area, but there had been times where, in his eagerness, he'd just bitten Tony. Of course, the blonde was none-the-wiser, Tony would have to tell him about that, but it still took the billionaire by surprise (until the venom took effect and it didn't hurt as bad anymore).

But right as we speak, even the venom couldn't mask the sudden jarring pain of having been woken into this.

Tony couldn't break the iron grip Steve had on his person, it was like trying to bend steel. It didn't mean he didn't try, he tried to wriggle out of the grip, but Steve only held him tighter, pulling his fragile body (by comparison) closer still, until there were only the clothes they wore as a barrier.

In any other circumstance, Tony would have been ecstatic to have Steve so close, but at this current moment, with his heart racing dangerously fast and his breathing too shallow to call it normal, the last thing he wanted was for Steve to be near him. He wished to voice this, but only small, meek little gasps escaped his throat.

Steve drank so much and so fast that he was almost sick by the time he was done. He slowly returned to his senses—touch was the first to register in his brain, he was squeezing the life out of something soft and warm, that's when sight decided to make its appearance, and then his hearing joined the group of senses culminating in a simultaneous 'oh shit' moment.

Tony was slumped over in his arms, not by his own volition, but because he was too weak to hold himself upright.

"To-Tony?" Steve asked, scared that he had done something irreversible. Had he…? Was Tony dead?

Steve started to panic, holding Tony by the shoulders gently, trying to rouse him from this state.

"Tony, hey Tony, please wake up," Steve said, his voice shaking with this wretched deed. The blood in his stomach threatened to return and that would not have been good for anybody. It would have been a waste of Tony's blood, and right now it seemed like the billionaire could have probably used those extra 2 liters. "Tony?" Steve asked, his own heart racing of the thought of having to explain himself to his comrades if Tony didn't open his eyes.

"You…" Tony replied with the little strength he had left.

"Oh god, oh thank god. Tony, I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me-

"Get out," Tony said, slowly regaining his faculties. The first of which was an overwhelming sense of anger and betrayal. He couldn't express those yet, but they were there.

"What?" Steve asked, holding the limp man in his arms.

"Leave, get out, don't… don't." Tony said, fighting the sudden urge to fall asleep and leave himself even more vulnerable to Steve's attacks. To think that he had given the man a chance.

"What?" Steve asked again, stupidly.

"I said leave!" Tony said, his tone conveying something serious even if the volume was quite soft.

"Tony I'm sorry-

"I'll tell Jarvis to call the Avengers, I'll… they'll know…" Tony said, fighting his drooping eyes, trying to free his arms from Steve's grip.

"Tony I'm-

"Jarvis-

"Okay, okay, I'll leave, but we have to talk later." Steve said, another sort of panic overtaking his being, one that was not as easily resolvable as the first.

"No. We… you… god, get out of room." Tony demanded, falling face first into his duvet as Steve let him go. He couldn't bring himself to correct his position, if Steve was going to attack him again, he would have to just live with the consequences of killing Tony, because for the life of him, Tony couldn't lift himself even to see that Steve had complied. Which he had, reluctantly, and sheepishly, locking the door as he went.

Tony passed out almost immediately. His last thoughts being: how could you?


Steve paced his room, digging a trench beneath his feet with how many times he'd done it. Oh hell, how could he have been so blinded by that command. Christ, he'd almost killed Tony. And not in that undead way, but in that dead-dead way. Damn it, damn it all. He was so freaked that he didn't even try to ask his team-mates for help on the matter. If this had to come to light, he wished it under his terms, not because he'd almost killed—

Fuck, he'd almost killed Tony.

He held his head in his hands, rubbing his temples as is brain repeated that sentence over and over, taunting him as a child does.

He'd asked Jarvis if Tony was still breathing, if his heart was still beating. At least the man-servant was not the inquisitive type and replied in the affirmative to both. Steve could, at any rate, breath-easy with knowing those two facts.

The annoying Avengers' alarm rang, calling him to battle like the good soldier he was supposed to be. But how the hell was he supposed to fight in the middle of the day with his current predicament?

As if by some serendipitous manner, thunder rang over-head. Steve walked to his blinds, slowly pushing them open and noticed the thunderstorm hailing him outside. He'd been so caught up in his own inner-turmoil that he'd completely missed that. He was still wary about placing his hand to the grey light, thankful when it didn't burst into flames. He did, however, notice how uncomfortable he felt in his own skin as he stepped outside.

He rushed into the Avenge-jet needing the shadowy relief.

"Tony not coming?" Natasha asked, prepping her wrist gun thingies (the words escaped him right now).

"No, he woke up feeling ill, told me to tell you all." Steve said, swallowing the lie as it escaped his lips. It tasted bitter on his tongue, he hated lying to his team, but this time it was pertinent for his own survival. If Tony wanted to tell them afterwards, that was up to him.

"So, why didn't you?" Clint asked, adjusting his arrows as Natasha went to prepare the Avenge-jet.

"I wasn't feeling well either," Steve said; this was not a lie. He'd felt like the crud you found at the bottom of a docked ship you hadn't cleaned for a while. Even the barnacles that latched onto the bottom of the boat had more integrity than him, at least they didn't hide under a façade, they knew what they were—nothing more than dirty parasites.

"No kidding," Clint replied as he noticed the way that Steve's face fell at the question.

The Avenge-jet was ready to go, and the passengers buckled in.


"Shit! We could really use an Iron-Man right now!" Clint shouted into the sky as if by some miracle Tony would apparate from thin air.

"No shit!" Natasha retorted, dodging a close hit. She attacked it with her stingers (that's their name), dealing close to no damage as the large robot's metal armor reflected them like a mirror does a reflection.

"No matter! If the Man of Iron is unavailable, Mjolnir will substitute!" Thor shouted from high above the sky as he conjured up lighting from the heavens.

Steve was working at half capacity, even the fullness of his recent feeding session didn't prepare him wholly for this. The robot was unlike any he had seen before, large and silver, it rolled around like a bowling ball, sprouting arms like a spider, and shooting ultra-violet beams at his opponents. Just another thing that Steve, in his current state, could not handle.

Hulk roared as he punched the large metal ball into oblivion and back, but even still the robot could hold its own, keeping its shape even after such tremendous hits.

The robot let out another wave of UV rays, this time Steve was prepared and blocked most of the damage with his vibranium shield, but even the after effects made his skin crawl and the urge to puke was stronger now than ever.

Out from the little break in the clouds came that familiar red and gold armor, flying like a bullet into the robot. Tony expertly ripped through the center of the beastly thing, giving Hulk a perfect opening to destroy the machine from the inside out.

"Next time you guys want to have a party, don't forget to invite the entertainment." Tony said through the comm., a bit of fabricated offense tinted his voice, though no-one was fooled by it—they could all tell how tired he was.

"Nice to have you back on board, Cap said you were sick." Natasha said, running from her spot by the trees into the center of the field to meet Tony as he descended. Hulk and Thor were dealing with the remainder of the robot, their massive hits and shouts echoed through the small island.

"Is that what he told you. Yeah, something like that." Tony said, unable to hide the bitterness that bled into his voice as he replied.

Steve's heart made a wrenching motion, hurting more than a stab wound would have.

"Woah! Something happen between you two?" Clint asked, never one to miss a cue. "Drop it!" Natasha warned, knowing tense situations when she saw them, and currently the air between Steve and Tony was thicker than an iron beam.

"No, nothing happened. But next time, tell Steve to mind his manners at the dinner table. Wouldn't want to seem like a glutton in front of his peers." Tony said, kicking his repulsor boots into over-drive and flew as fast as he could from the area.

"What does that even mean?" Clint asked, scratching his head with one of his pointed arrows.

"Exactly what he said." Steve said, sighing into his hands. He wasn't about to live this one, down was he?


It was exactly three weeks before Steve tried to contact Tony again. He'd been surviving on substantial portions of raw cow meat (to the horror of his comrades, he's taken to eating in his room or late at night to save them the brutality as he ripped through the tasteless flesh). He was full, but not satisfied, however his satisfaction wasn't what was important right now. He had to understand that if he ever wanted Tony to speak to him again.

He could still feel the billionaire in his veins, he could tell the moment when he woke or slept (he didn't dare try to enter Tony's room again, he could only guess that the genius had put safe-guards against him). He kept tabs on the brunette from afar, taking care to savor only small glimpses at a time, tried his hardest to pry his eyes through the blacked-out screen of Tony's lab.

Probably by Natasha's threats, the team didn't ask for details on what happened between Steve and Tony, which was better for him. He'd say anything right now if it meant he could talk to his beloved once more.

He did feel horrible for what had happened, he had to tell Tony that much, he… he just couldn't help himself. Dracula hadn't tried to contact his children again so, for now, Steve's mind was his own. He still wanted to figure that out, but he didn't want to make any leaps of logic without Tony's input. They'd gotten this far, why not try to solve this together.

That was his poorly placed sales pitch as he stood by the laboratory door, begging without saying to be let in. He held his breath (knowing him, he'd probably been holding his breath for the past hour) waiting for the green-light to appear on the key-pad, allowing his access.

Not even a peep from Tony. Boy, when he was mad, he really kept a grudge.

"Tony, darling, please. I'm sorry, just let me explain-

"He's not gonna open that door." Clint said, sneaking up on Steve (which was almost impossible, but he was probably distracted) and scaring the venom out of his fangs.

"How do you know?" Steve asked, incredulously.

"I once stole one of his limited-time only Doritos and he wouldn't let me in the tower for a month. He'd even frozen my Stark credit card and any assets that came with." Clint admitted, his hand going sheepishly to his neck.

"I thought, wait, I thought you'd had a mission for SHIELD, that's why you weren't here. At least that's what you said." Steve said, remembering that time very well—it had been blissfully quiet.

"Yeah, I lied, I did end up staying in the Helicarrier until Master Tony let me back in." Clint said sarcastically, leaning against the railing next to the disheartened Steve. "What did you do?"

"Oh, I sucked him dry." Steve sighed out, not caring how that sounded.

"Oh dude, TMI, wait, how is that a bad thing? What, is our Stark a bit of a prude now?" Clint asked, completely misunderstanding the statement.

It took Steve a second to understand Clint's sudden revulsion, and slapped his forehead; he still needed to get used to this 21st century patois. "Not like that, get your head out of the gutter."

"Then like what? Like a leech? A vampire?" Clint asked, even more confused.

"Yeah, something like that." Steve said, he was almost to the point of confessing everything to Clint, it wasn't as if he hadn't guessed it for himself already. If only he knew.

"What do you mean 'something like that'? You couldn't have spent that much money? The dude's a billionaire; it would take you a couple of islands and some really expensive cars to drain his bank account." Clint said, a bit exasperated.

"No Clint, you're missing the point-

"What are you doing?" A third voice asked, standing at the threshold of the door.

"Tony." Steve said, his voice going soft and pleading, making Clint incredibly uncomfortable.

"Clint, could you leave us alone for a sec?" Tony asked, dragging Steve into the lab.

"Like I have another choice." Clint said, either too uninterested to figure out Steve's words or too dense.

Tony closed the door, his hands shaking a bit as his heart raced. Three weeks, three maddening weeks he'd been able to survive without Steve; even with his resolve to starve the Halfling out, it had been incredibly difficult. And now the idiot was out there, flapping his gums like an idiot, ready to oust them like some depraved UGH, what the hell?

The room spun suddenly out of his control and Tony tried very hard not to lose his sense of balance as he made it over to his stool.

"Tony are you-

"If you ask me if I'm okay one more fucking time, I will slit your throat." Tony warned murderously.

Steve hadn't known Tony could look so lethal, but at that moment, any thought he'd wished to voice lodged itself deep into his chest and locked itself in, afraid to get out.

"What the hell is wrong with you? Do you want other people to know about your vampirism?" Tony asked, madly irritated. He held his head in his hands as it pounded deep in his skull. After Steve had 'sucked him dry' he'd taken that entire morning to recover. When he'd arrived at the battle-ground he was almost at a hundred percent; and so was his anger towards Steve.

The last few weeks had been hell though, he'd been dizzied and weak, his head feeling as if someone were playing basketball with it, and not to mention how he felt hot all over (and it was not due to his arc reactor). He was constantly irritated, unable to rid himself of these maddening symptoms.

He'd gotten so fed up, that he'd made an appointment to see the doctor tomorrow; something he hadn't done in many years because of his distrust of hospitals.

"Tony… I'm, I'm not quite sure how else to get your attention. You haven't talked to me in so long and I just… raw cow can only get you so far." Steve admitted, hanging his head in shame.

"So that's it huh? You missed me, not because you care for me or anything, but because you're a little bit hungry." Tony said, and here Steve thought he was the one with venom.

"It's not like that." Steve pleaded, trying to find a way to say these words without making it about him. But no matter how he spun it, it came down to the fact that he wanted to feed and Tony wasn't budging.

"Hm, really, because it seems that that's exactly how it is. Let me paint you a picture Steve, and since you're the artist I'll be asking for pointers." Tony said, spitting such sarcasm it was only a matter of time before the floor beneath Steve's feet melted.

"Please Tony, don't be like that." Steve said, his voice growing weaker.

"Like what Steve? I invite you into my room, I let you sleep on my bed, I show you my weakest and most vulnerable moments, and you attack me! While I'm sleeping!" Tony said, his eyes shifting momentarily from enraged to frightened and then back again the next second.

"Tony, I didn't mean to, it was, I-

"What was it like then Steve? I see nothing but a monster that can't control himself. It would be best if for the remainder of your condition, you found your food source somewhere else. I'm done being your fucking lunch-box." Tony said, returning to the pain-staking task at hand. "Or are you just going to attack me like you did three weeks ago." Tony murmured under his breath, almost as if he were trying to keep that part to himself.

Steve could feel something unhinge in his brain and he was suddenly on Tony, pushing the billionaire into the desk and baring his fangs in a defensive manner, but Tony didn't know that; he only saw the sharp objects glistening menacingly like the tip of a sword or the barrel of a gun. "I did not attack you." Steve said, pleading with his eyes for Tony to understand.

The smaller man tried to fight the hypnotic pull of Steve's eyes, he found it difficult to break free, but his resolve was as tough as nails and so he kept his mouth set, even as he felt his body going weaker under Steve's grip. "Yeah, whatever you say." He managed to get out through his gritted teeth.

Steve snapped out of it, shaking his head, and breaking his hold on Tony's shoulders. "I'm sorry, I really, really am. I keep hurting you and I just… Oh god, you're right. I'm a damn monster." Steve admitted, clumsily retreating backwards and tripping over himself trying to get out of Tony's space.

Tony sighed, taking in a couple of breaths at a time. He held himself still, trying to stop the shaking that associated any interaction with this new iteration of Steve. Christ, how were they going to get through this?


"Poly-what now?" Tony asked as he fiddled with the uncomfortable gown that they had placed him in for his check-up. This was a far cry from the hand-tailored suit he'd come in with; that was lying useless on one of the guest chairs.

"Polycythemia." The doctor repeated patiently. He'd been a little intimidated when they'd told him that Tony 'Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist' Stark was going to be his, his, patient that morning. He was sure Greg was pulling a fast one on him. But nope, the handsome billionaire was seated patiently in one of the waiting room chairs, looking as out of place as a stainless steel among plastic cutlery.

"And that would be?" Tony asked, thankful that he had a name to place his annoying symptoms and a bit worried by how complicated it sounded.

"Your bone-marrow is over-producing red blood cells, at least by your blood-count that's the only one that seems to be elevated." The doctor explained gently.

"Oh." Tony said drily—fucking heck.

"You don't… you don't seem surprised?" Dr. Bornstein (Tony finally looked at his lab-coat) asked, perplexed.

"Not since you've explained it. Let me guess the treatment, you need to suck the blood out of me, right?" Tony hadn't meant to use that particular vernacular, but he couldn't quite help himself.

"Well, not in those specific terms, we're not using leeches here, but phlebotomy is an option. We could also use medicine if you're not a major fan of sharp, pointed objects." Dr. B said, trying to smile at Tony who only looked on with a depressed sort of aspect.

"You could say that again." Tony said, sighing. The doctor seemed to understand and started picking up his prescription pad.

"We have a medicine, Hydroxyurea, we can get you started if you'd rather not deal with the phleb-

"I'm gonna stop you right there, doctor. I appreciate the initiative, but I'm more of a holistic medicine type guy. I'll just have to deal with the sharp and pointed objects instead!" Tony said, forcing a strained smile.

"Okay." He said slowly, crossing the medicine out on his pad and flipping to another page. "Here you are, you should see the phlebotomist once a week for at least a month and then we'll check up on you again to make sure everything is order." Dr. Bornstein said, handing the sheet of paper to Tony. The billionaire flashed a more genuine smile, riddled a bit with condescension. He wasn't actually going to visit the phlebotomist, but he would get his blood drawn.

"Am I free to go then?" Tony asked as doctor turned around with a gloved hand.

"Not quite. I see here that you've never had a prostate check." The doctor said. Dread, quick and hot, hit Tony with the force of Thor's hammer.

"Oh, do we have to?" Tony asked, already turning around and finally understanding why his gown didn't a back flap.

"It's for the good of your own health, so I would say that yes, we sort of do. But, of course, I can't force you to do anything you don't wish to-

"Just get on with it." Tony said, already bent over the bed.

"Alrighty then."


Tony found Steve lamenting over his food in the kitchen, if the look on his face was any indication. It was around three in the morning, when Tony finally decided to be merciful to the both of them.

"Steve." Tony said as a form of greeting. The blonde looked up from his bloody food, the desperation in his eyes only fleeting as he managed to reign his emotions in. Tony made everything he'd eaten for the majority of the week pale in comparison. He wishes he didn't have this dependency on Tony's blood. He'd wondered if he didn't have this disease, would he care for Tony as violently as he did now. He tried to think of the time before his turn but it seemed so far away even if the reality proved otherwise. "Oh man, the cow didn't deserve that." Tony said, taking a chair across from the desolate blonde.

"I know, ha, I shouldn't play with my food." Steve said, trying to talk through his fangs as they pushed through, restless as ever dragging his head towards what he needed at the moment. Steve managed to control himself, but barely.

"Is it really that bad?" Tony asked, wringing his hands unsure on how to start.

"The meat or…" Steve trailed off, considering Tony's statement. Was it that bad? So bad, that he couldn't hold off for the next couple of weeks until they found the cure? The incessant pushing of his sharp incisors into his gums answered that for him.

"Why—Tony cleared his throat, finding it suddenly difficult to speak—why did you attack me?" Why didn't you stop?

"I-I didn't mean for it to come off as an attack. Tony, ever since the transformation there's been this little malevolent voice in the back of my head intervening with my every thought. That night, that morning—it's so disorienting." Steve said, stabbing the red meat, and putting it in his mouth, sucking the blood first and then chewing the tasteless flesh. "I saw Dracula, and like 500 other new vampires, it's like he's starting an army. He's looking for a new vessel, someone to transfer his being into, says he's getting old and dying. But I don't know, I don't think he was being too genuine. He did give us a command though, to feed, Tony I swear I don't know what came over me when I saw you, I just. It was like he had my head down to your neck and I couldn't help myself. It should be my responsibility to hold back and only take as much as you're willing to give, but… I didn't know he had so much control over me." Steve said, omitting the part with the light, he decided that they would cross that bridge when they got there.

Tony had been sitting there, motionless trying to absorb what Steve had told him. Had Steve's darker self been infiltrating his dreams as well? Since he'd become his drudge there had been nights where Steve would visit him in dreams, a darker more sinister aura emanating from him. He wanted to ask, but found it too personal, even in their current circumstance.

"Do you think you can track Dracula with this link that you two seem to have? Maybe if we can find him, we can find the secret to getting you back to human." Tony said, stretching out his hand for Steve to hold. "Or at least back to being our lovable super-soldier."

Steve tentatively placed his fingers into the small crevasse that Tony formed with his own. "Maybe, I feel that the signal works both ways, but he is stronger," Steve said, trying his luck and pushing his fingers further still into Tony's hands. So far now that he could feel Tony's pulse, he gave an involuntary sigh of relief to feel that still strong heart pumping blood and life through Tony's veins. "Tony, I've seen many people die, hell, I've killed people. But when I saw you, so limp and lifeless in my hands… I've never panicked so hard before in my life, I didn't know what to do, who to call." Steve removed his hand from Tony's and resumed his bland food.

"Yeah, that was a real dick move on your part." Tony said, reaching again for Steve's hand, this time lacing their fingers together. The brunette wondered how much of that was intentional and how much of it was his venom-driven desire to please Steve. He wanted to believe that he had some free-will in this matter, but it was hard to discern one thing from another when all these feelings overlapped.

"I know." Steve said, the ghost of a smile coming slowly to his face. "I really shouldn't be this easily forgiven." Steve said, serious again, trying hard to retrieve his hand from Tony's grip.

"No, you shouldn't. But I suppose it can't be helped, what with my new diagnosis." Tony said, pushing the prescription paper across the small table for Steve to see.

"Poly-what now?" Steve asked, trying to mouth the large worth.

"Polycythemia; a disease that makes me overproduce blood, guess you're a lucky bastard—I need you after all." Tony said, his signature smile shining brightly through like a tiny sun that Steve was happy to burn in. "So, you gonna keep eating that poor cow or are you gonna become my phlebotomist?" Tony asked, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"Ah, let me brush my teeth first. I may be immune to whatever diseases are in uncooked venison, but I highly doubt you'd fair as well." Steve said putting the plate in the dishwasher after rinsing it out in the sink.

"I'll be waiting in the lab." Tony said, making his way to the staircase. It wasn't until Steve was teeth deep into his jugular that he remembered his prescription paper on the table. If one of the others were to read it, he'd hoped they wouldn't start connecting dots.


A/N: Alright, yes, hello! 2 Flipping years, Christ I could have had a child (which I didn't) but heck! So, I won't keep you long, it's just that I started college 2 years ago and many of the stories that I meant to finish then were put WAY to the back. Though I have not forgotten about them. They haunt me like little ghosts, jeez man. I've read and re-read this fan fiction and all the others that I have unfinished, vowing to finish them and finally, FINALLY, I have a small reprise of about 2 months to get all of them done. I have so many to get written and out to you guys, starting with this one. I'll try to do weekly installments until it is done. It's not that long of a fic, so it shouldn't take too long. Hopefully. Anyway, knock, knock, is anybody still here? Has it been too long. Damn, I don't blame you!