Author's Note: I think this chapter will explain a lot. Thanks to LeoChris for beta reading! Please take a minute to let me know what you think. I do not own Glee nor the characters involved. This story does not necessarily reflect the sexuality/relationship of Rory Flanagan and Sam Evans (we can only dream) or the actors who portray them. Enjoy! :)

...

Sam's body was one big bruise. He stood before the mirror in Rory's bathroom, examining the hues of blue and purple that stained his skin. His arm throbbed where he had landed on it; probably a minor sprain. The scratch marks across his chest were violent red with all kinds of scary colors spreading out around the lines. His face seemed to have had an ill-fated run-in with a brick wall.

"I look awful," Sam muttered to himself, grimacing. His eyes roamed down his body, noting the flaws with distaste.

"You look fine," Rory told him, hanging back in the doorway with his arms folded.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Is it cool if I take a shower?"

"Be my guest," Rory said. "I'll be, um, in the other room."

"Thanks."

As the door closed, Sam continued his scrutiny. He turned to his side and pulled his stomach tight, running his fingers over the skin.

He closed his eyes and squeezed them tight as he could, trying to hold back the anxiety that threatened to overtake him. Now was not the time.

Fat.

Sam cursed under his breath and lashed out, his fist banging against the mirror and setting it rattling in its frame.

"Are you okay in there?" Came Rory's muffled voice through the door.

"Fine!" Sam called too cheerfully. He muttered to himself, "Get a grip."

Shoving the thoughts away, he shucked off his boxers and ducked into the shower.

The warm water seeped into his aching muscles, and he tried to relax. It was hard.

…

"Where to start?" Rory murmured thoughtfully.

He and Sam were walking along the gravel paths in the park, bundled up in warm sweaters and sipping from large coffees.

"Uh, is it safe to be out in the open?" Sam asked, glancing around furtively.

"Of course, silly. The sun's up!" Rory said, laughing.

"Oh, right…" Sam coughed embarrassedly. "Of course."

"I guess I'm just nervous to tell the whole thing, Sam. I—never mind."

"What is it?"

Rory drank shyly from his cup and shrugged. "I don't want you to stop liking me."

"Do you think I would be here, talking with you, after having spent the night in your bed if I didn't like you, Rory? You're not going to get rid of me that easily."

"You're sure you aren't going to run away? I already made you do that once, and I feel horrible about that. I don't want to do it again."

"I'm a brave guy."

Rory nodded. "Okay. Um, I'm a vampire."

Sam stopped in his tracks, shot Rory a curious look and then threw back his head in laughter. Tears streamed from his eyes as he clapped a hand to Rory's shoulder and tried to get a hold on himself.

"You're taking this well, I suppose," Rory remarked.

"Just…just the way you said it," Sam chuckled. "I'm not sure why it's so funny."

"Um, aren't you supposed to be all shocked at the revelation of mythical creatures existing?"

"Well, I guess I've had some time to process the fact that you had red eyes and fangs and you killed two guys twice your size by ripping their hearts out. It makes sense, in a way," Sam noted. He grinned. "Besides, it's not like this has changed everything I've ever known. I'm still a regular guy with a regular life, I just happen to have a vampire for a friend."

Rory didn't have the heart to tell Sam any different, so he just plastered a smile to his face and said, "Right."

"So let's hear it, then," Sam said. "The whole story."

"Well, I guess I'll start at the beginning. I was born centuries ago in Ireland. It was me, my father, my mother and Shamus. I was born a vampire; my Dad has been around for…a very long time. And he fancied my mum, so he turned her and they had my brother and I. We lived like royalty, in a huge castle overlooking a village. We had servants and the finest things. But all those years, my Dad poisoned us against the humans. He taught us that they were disposable, just food. I idolized him, and never thought anything of his views. That is, until he killed my brother."

"I'm so sorry, Rory. That's awful."

"Shamus stood up to him one day, and my father killed him—or, at least, he made sure that Shamus would never turn up again. I still don't know what happened to him.

"I broke away from the family and I started living on my own. It was a cowardly life, I'll admit. Everywhere I went, I felt his eyes on me. I was never safe. That is, until he was put away."

"Put away? What do you mean?"

"An army of men stormed the castle and managed to bleed him. Without blood, he was weak. And they tried to stake him, but it didn't work. He survived, on the cusp of life. So they locked him away in a hidden vault, buried deep underground."

Sam remained silent for a moment before asking a question that had been tugging on his mind. "Rory, who were those men who attacked me yesterday."

Rory sighed. "They are my father's men. He's somehow managed to come back, and he's looking for me. He's testing out the waters, seeing how strong I've become…but he will come soon and Lima will be in deep trouble."

"You can kill him, right Rory?" Sam asked hopefully.

"It's not that simple. My father is not a regular vampire. His blood is the black of the Demons. He's old, Sam. Very old. And he has powers beyond anything on this Earth. He cannot be easily killed."

"But he can be killed."

Rory paused for a moment before reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a small dagger, holding it by the handle. It gleamed brightly in the sunlight, the facets of its ruby-encrusted handle glittering. "This, when plunged through his heart, will kill him."

"What is it?"

"A relic," Rory said, biting his lip, "Of religious origin."

"Where'd you get it?"

Rory sighed guiltily. "The…uh, the Vatican."

Sam gaped. "The Pope gave you that thing?"

"Define 'gave'."

"Rory, my friend, I underestimated you."

"It was blessed by an angel, and is the only thing pure enough to destroy him."

"How can you touch it, then?"

"The handle is safe to the touch; only the blade itself is holy. If I touched it to my bare skin, I would probably burn to a crisp in seconds."

"So is it all true, then?" Sam asked. He sat down with a huff on the ground, patting the space next to him for Rory. "Garlic, coffins, crosses…how are you outside in the sunlight?"

Rory grinned wryly. "It's true. Except for the coffin bit; that's just plain weird."

"Sorry," Sam replied.

"I'm vulnerable to garlic and anything sacred; I can't set foot inside a church. A stake through the heart will kill me just as easily. I need blood to survive. My Dad's stronger, but he still can't cross onto holy ground."

"Did he pass on any of his powers to you?" Sam asked.

Rory nodded. "I'm strong, Sam; stronger than the ordinary vampires. Faster, more agile, and he gave me the ability to walk in the sunlight. I'm glad for that. It's a bad way to go. I left those fellows who attacked us yesterday in a place where the sun would find them. They're now piles of ash."

Sam shook his head and stood up. He started walking. "There're a lot of rules."

"I've been alive long enough to learn all of them. It's not so—"

"When you say you need blood, Rory…do you, like, kill people?"

Rory sighed. "Typically, our species will drain every last drop. Not only does this kill the victim, it brings them back as vampires."

"And you?"

"I've tried my best to always spare the lives of the people I feed from. It doesn't always turn out that way, but I do try."

"How often do you have to…you know?"

"Usually a good drink will satisfy us for a month. But sometimes we'll feed depending on our mood."

"And—"

"Sam, look; I think we've talked about this enough," Rory said. "Why don't we just, you know, talk? About regular stuff."

Sam closed his eyes and smiled, "Alright."

As they started walking off, the Irish boy smiled broadly when Sam threw an arm around his shoulders.