Author's note: :X So, funny story. I was waiting for my friends to both be free on the same day so we could keep watching Being Human season 3, and last night I finally saw episode 9… (spoilers ahead.)

I had NO IDEA that the actual cure to the virus was legitimately werewolf blood. Here I was thinking my plotline was so clever and original. Now no one will believe that I had no idea this was the legit answer to the virus! ;_;

To my reviewers: thank you! :) I appreciate you taking the time to comment, especially my most recent reviewer who doesn't even have an ffnet account. It's such a tiny fandom sometimes it feels like there's barely anyone out there (echo, echo, echo…) so feedback is always loved.

Aidan wasn't surprised when he smelled Nora's combination of wolf genes and cucumber shampoo approaching down the stairs that lead to his basement. He knew it was only a matter of time before they had it out, and he could only hope it would be a clearing of the air rather than another argument.

Preceding her knock, Aidan opened the door to his basement bedroom just as Nora was lifting her hand. She started slightly and their eyes met, a wealth of emotions communicating between them in an instant. Guilt, apprehension, nervousness, sadness, and slight fear shot between them in a single electrical current of nonverbal cues, and at once Aidan knew this would not be a fight.

"Come on in," he said, stepping aside to allow her entry.

Nora slid silently into the room but remained hovering near the door, much the way Josh had when they'd first started up their feeding arrangement the day after Liam's attack. Aidan smiled slightly at that mirror image, a nervous werewolf clasping their hands in front of them near his desk, and went over to sit on the edge of his bed. He figured she would want to speak her piece first and remained quiet, and sure enough, after a moment of faltering silence, she broke it.

"Aidan… I, first off… how are you?" Nora asked, finally spanning the distance between them and taking a seat at the foot of his bed. He scooted over to give her more room and turned to face her better, not wanting to look like he was shutting her out in any way. Her eyes were soft with concern, her face an open book the way Josh's so often was.

"Not bad, all things considered," Aidan answered, truthfully. "Henry was doing much worse at this point when he got sick. I seem to be hanging in there a bit better."

Nora nodded and gave him a faint smile. "Good. So, maybe… maybe Josh's blood is helping, after all."

This was one of the subjects Aidan had known would come up, and with a careful effort to appear noncommittal, he shrugged and tilted his head to the side. "Maybe. Who knows?"

Nora nodded and looked at her lap, letting a less uncomfortable silence fall over them for a moment while they each got lost in their own thoughts. When she spoke again it was with great care.

"I saw the… bite marks," she said, though nothing in her tone was accusatory. "Josh explained what happened and it sounds like that was all on him." Aidan, not having anything to say about that, opted for silence once more and Nora moved on. "He also said that it's very unlikely that what you have can be passed onto him. I believe the exact phrase he used was 'damn near impossible.'"

Aidan inwardly cringed, though he didn't show any external reaction to that. The wording made it sound like the bites had been a point of contention between them, at least for a while, and that it had perhaps degenerated into another fight. Nora did seem somewhat mollified now, and Aidan highly suspected it was because she'd had a more emotional version of this talk with Josh before coming down here to see him.

"It's true," Aidan offered, wanting to both backup Josh and put her mind at ease. "I didn't even catch the bug when I was bitten by an infected vampire."

Nora nodded, but Aidan could tell she wasn't convinced. In all truth, he couldn't blame her. He knew what it felt like to be worried about Josh, and most of their concerns created an overlapping Venn diagram in the middle, only very few problems falling directly to Aidan's left or Nora's right.

"And… I never…" Nora cleared her throat and abruptly turned her face up to the ceiling. Aidan actually looked up too, wondering if she had heard some disturbance from upstairs, but a second later he realized she was blinking unshed tears back into her eyes, trying to will them to stay put through gravity. A jolt of shock traveled through his core at the sight. "I never thanked you. For what you did for me."

"Oh," Aidan said, still feeling dumbfounded. "Nora. Of course. It just—I wanted to try to put as much right as I could. I'd do it again in a heartbeat." He paused, and, trying to inject a little levity into the situation, added, "Figuratively speaking, of course."

Nora let out a watery laugh and turned to face him, her eyes still very shiny, and Aidan gave her a relieved, lopsided smile in return. Then she was hugging him and it was only a few fumbling seconds later that he figured out how to do it back.

"I'm so sorry," she muttered against his shoulder, and he wondered what for. The earlier fight? His fate in general? The fact that the world seemed to be forever determined to stack all the decks against them?

Aidan just muttered, "Me, too," in response to everything and closed his eyes.

hey,

Aidan paused, staring at the three-letter word and the mark of punctuation. It was a while before he deemed it passable and continued his text.

hey, it's Aidan.

He deleted that part. She would know it was him since all cell phones had caller ID.

hey, sorry I've been so out of touch. I'm down with something really nasty and won't be leaving the house for a while. You should probably stay away so you don't catch it too.

He sighed and read the message over, not liking it, but not finding any other way to make it better. He couldn't exactly tell her the truth. A wry smirk quirked the corner of his mouth as he tried to picture that text. Hey, Kat, sorry I've been so out of touch. I'm dying of vampire plague so you should probably keep your distance so we don't get too attached. It's been fun! - Aidan.

Aidan let out another, more frustrated sigh and punched "send" on his phone before he could overthink the message or chicken out and refuse to send it.

It was barely half a minute later when his phone buzzed in his hand, showing the preview of her reply. hey you! He clicked the little envelope open.

hey you! sorry to hear that… but I'm glad you're not dead in a ditch somewhere! sure you don't need me to bring anything over? soup, Nyquil, maybe some cocaine? oops, sorry, forgot… you're DNAJ :) seriously tho, feel better soon!

Aidan smiled down at the message, impressed by the sheer speed with which she'd typed and sent it. DNAJ had become a little inside joke, which stood for "definitely not a junkie." Aidan contemplated writing back to her, just to exchange a joke or to reassure her that he didn't need anything, but in the end he figured there was no point. Each message he sent her would be just one more she would have to delete after he was gone, one more painful reminder that she'd lost someone who could have been a friend or something more. Aidan was tired of leaving a string of collateral damage behind him, and would do what he could to assure that as few people as possible were wounded in his wake.

Besides, if he was being honest with himself, Kat wasn't the person he wanted to spend these last days with. She was sweet, funny, had made him feel interested, youthful and engaged in a way he hadn't felt in years, but he hadn't known her long enough for her to carve a home out for herself in his heart. Perhaps if he'd been infected later he would have come clean to her, and asked her to join him for the most depressing last few dates of his life, but that wasn't the case. It was not only better for her, but also for himself and the others if she stayed away.

Aidan put his phone aside and ran his hands through his hair. He was just thinking it was almost time for Josh to make his first appearance since their uncomfortable encounter the night previous when he heard him moving towards the top of the stairs above. Aidan sighed and waited while Josh puttered around, doing God knew what. He was likely stalling, trying to go through different scripts in his mind for what to say.

Aidan screwed his eyes shut and blew out a slow, long breath, shaking his head a little at the end of it. Thinking about last night was not a good idea right now, or ever, really. He'd know it hadn't been a good idea, but that had never, not once, stopped Aidan from doing something in the past. He supposed 260 years really wasn't long enough to change the impulsive side of him that stubbornly clung to life even now.

Josh finally arrived right as Aidan gathered his composure. Aidan was prepared for a quiet, awkward feeding session, but froze when he saw Josh's face.

God, he looked terrible. He was paler than usual and looked like he hadn't slept at all last night. He was blinking slowly, evidently too tired to feel all that weird around Aidan. Perhaps the delay upstairs hadn't been script-running… it was very possible he was simply too tired to remember how stairs were supposed to work.

"Hey," Aidan said, standing up slowly, as his body still ached a little these days. "You look sort of really awful."

Josh looked over at him, his brown eyes dazed, but gave him a smile nevertheless. "Aw, thanks. That's so sweet."

Aidan's relief was so palpable he thought it would knock them over like a concussion blast. Josh was acting normal, not freaking out or making things worse. Aidan had no idea what had changed between last night and this morning, but he wasn't complaining. "Any time," Aidan replied, but was frowning back at his friend a moment later. "Seriously though. You don't look well."

"No offense, man… but I don't think you're the one to talk," Josh joked lightly, but his tired expression faded to that look of soft worry Aidan hated so much to see on him. Before Aidan could tell him to knock it off, Josh cleared his throat. "So, ah. I'd like to check your marks, if that's okay."

And there was a touch of the weirdness Aidan had expected. Before yesterday Josh had just made a motion with his thumb and a whistling sound to signal that he wanted Aidan to take off his shirt so he could take those measurements. Now he was acting like it was his first day at the hospital all over again, blushing when a drugged-out patient had strolled through the halls with her flapping hospital gown on backwards. Aidan sighed and pulled his shirt off, deliberately giving the action no weight or pause so it could be robbed of its taboo factor.

Josh had his book, pen and measuring tape ready, and seemed to get over whatever momentary discomfort he had at seeing Aidan shirtless. Aidan turned to the familiar far wall and started to zone out as was his practice during this daily ritual, but when Josh measured a spot at his ribs, then hastily measured it again and a third time in rapid succession, Aidan glanced over at him, curious. Josh had his nose buried in his plague notebook, a deep frown on his face, then measured Aidan a fourth time. Aidan was just about to ask when Josh let out a sudden, startling laugh. Aidan actually jumped.

"Aidan," Josh said, turning his too-wide eyes at his roommate and breaking out into a broad grin that took Aidan completely off-guard, "This one shrank."

Aidan frowned at Josh, then glanced down at his ribs as if the marks would be spelling out the word "psyche!" across his skin. "You sure?" he asked.

Instead of snarking at him, Josh measured him a fifth time and checked his notebook again. "Dead sure. This one shrank by .5 inches."

"Ooooh," Aidan said, hamming up the sarcasm for effect, but Josh was undaunted. His hands moved deftly across Aidan's shoulders, biceps, neck and temples, measuring at barely believable speeds.

"Zero growth for these three," Josh said, tapping three of Aidan's marks, "And only .25 inches of growth on this one," he said, resting his fingers against the last mark. "Aidan… this is big."

"Thought you just said they weren't growing," Aidan said, aiming for humor but sounding more grumpy than anything.

Josh finally seemed to pick up on his tone and did a small double-take at him. "Aidan. You're—you're not getting worse. This is big. Aren't you—" He struggled for words, gesturing in the air. "At least a little stoked about this?"

Aidan sighed and turned to face Josh, but the moment Josh saw his expression he began speaking again.

"You—wow. You really still don't even want to entertain the idea that maybe, just maybe, we've found a way to keep you alive. I just—why?"

They were going to fight again, and Aidan didn't want that for a slew of different reasons, but here it was. "Josh, just—do you ever stop to think maybe Nora is right to be worried about you here? That you're, just maybe," he said, mirroring Josh's earlier comment, "imagining things because you want it to be true?"

Josh gaped at him, shock and hurt transforming into anger at once. Goddamn it, Aidan thought, wishing he could take back the past minute. Why do I always do this?

"I'm not imagining this," Josh said, shoving the book at Aidan and pointing at the table of data and dates. "This. Is. Real." With each word he jabbed the page again. "I don't know why in the world you refuse to see it! This is amazing, this is a miracle, we are on the right track."

"Josh," Aidan began, feeling a prickling, trapped sensation crawling up his spine, the familiar urge to run from the sort of soul-rending conversational muck-outs only he and Josh seemed to have.

"No," Josh said, shaking his head. "No. I don't know what the deal is with you and Nora always trying to protect me from—what, from stress? Like I haven't handled it ever before in my life. This isn't about me, Aidan. This is your life."

"Maybe that's it," Aidan snapped, getting to his feet. "Ever think that? Maybe this is just what's supposed to happen. Maybe 260 years is too long for anything to stay alive and now is just my time. I've accepted that possibility, Sally has, Nora has—it's just you who's stuck, Josh!"

"I'm stuck because I see promising results and pursue them," Josh said, letting out a half-laugh half-scoff. "That makes perfect sense."

"They aren't going away," Aidan said, struggling not to grit his teeth. How had this degenerated so fast? He'd been expecting to have an argument with Nora, not Josh. "You might think that one is smaller, but even if they keep staying the same size, this is temporary. What do you want me to do, drain you dry to see if that gets them down another inch and a half?"

"I never said—" Josh insisted, but now it was Aidan's turn to cut him off.

"And we both know this probably won't work anymore once the full moon next month! We know that. Why won't you accept it?"

"Because I can't!" Josh shouted, his voice rising to a volume they had yet to achieve during their fights before now. Whatever Aidan had been so desperate to get across to him died in his throat as the two of them simply looked at one another. Josh was breathing hard, the sharp, aggressive edge of emotion coloring every feature, bringing life and rage to his eyes and skin.

"I can't, okay?" Far from his earlier shout, his voice was now soft, almost broken. "You're right. I'm not accepting it. Not yet, not unless you turn to dust right in front of me. I won't stop trying because I can't. I can't lose you without trying everything. I won't. I can't."

Josh was getting repetitive, but Aidan remained dumbstruck, unable to move or speak as Josh raked his hands through his hair, leaving them clasped at the back of his head like he was ready to tuck under his desk during a bomb drill. "You're—my—" Josh swallowed hard, stopping after those two words, and Aidan felt like a taut cello string had been cut in his core. All his strength left him in a rush and it was all he could do to not sit down, hard, on the floor right there as the feeling that took its place crashed over him in an unstoppable wave.

Josh took a few deep breaths and cleared his throat, then lowered his arms. Aidan was still staring at him, lost and bereft in his own internal tide, but Josh wasn't quite done.

"So fuck you, Aidan. Maybe you're ready to go, but I'm not ready for you to. Not by a long shot."

Aidan took in a breath he didn't need and let it out slowly. When he dug his voice out from the wreckage of turmoil, all he managed to say was, "Okay."

It shouldn't have been enough, not by a long shot, but Josh's lingering anger transformed into his softer, sad look, one of his eyebrows slightly lower than his other in an expression so familiar to Aidan he could trace it in his sleep. Nora called it his "puppy" face behind Josh's back.

"Okay," Josh said, his voice slightly raspy from emotion and the shouting he'd done, and as he turned to get the box of supplies he'd brought down, Aidan closed the distance between them and pulled him in tight. Josh jerked a little at the sudden movement, but a second later the two of them were hugging hard.

"I don't want to leave you," Aidan muttered into Josh's shoulder, able to say to his jacket what he couldn't say to his face.

"I know," Josh said back, his voice not working. The words came out as a whisper.

After Josh had gone and Aidan had fed from the eight rather than four tubes Josh had insisted on giving him, the vampire lay on his back in his bedroom, staring at the ceiling where he knew the stairwell was, and above that where Nora and Josh's bedroom stood. The source of his midnight musings was not his quite possible impending death, his guilt over Kat or Kenny, his worries that Liam would return, or even his fear of taking too much blood from Josh.

Being alive for over two centuries had introduced Aidan to countless people. Most of the faces ran together now, but a few, usually fellow supes like himself, stood out. Bishop, Suren, Henry, Rebecca. There were those whom he had known for less time, but still featured in his dreams; Bernie, Cara, Celine. His own Suzanna and Isaac had loved him unconditionally and selflessly, but ever since then it had been a long string of those whom he had loved and loved desperately, but had bled and suffered for as they dragged him down either intentionally or through no fault of their own.

Not until Josh had Aidan been simply and purely loved, had his own well-being put above everything else. Aidan had grown used to it; Bishop's passive-aggression, Henry's dishonesty, Suren's and Rebecca's insurmountable temptations. Aidan had never been able to relax with any of them, not really, either for fear that they would turn on him or because he knew that, at the end of the day, he was the only thing holding them together, their rock in the storm and the strong one in the relationship, though it had been beyond terrifying to realize that. Him, the strong one? Most days Aidan felt anything but.

Yet, that was how it had always been, and how he had truly thought it would always be. Even with Kat he had been setting himself up for that pattern again—protect her, conceal from her, try to walk the line between his human and his supernatural life and simply pray she wouldn't get caught in the crossfire like the rest of his human companions.

It was different with Josh. Josh, who bled for him, who risked his life for him over and over, who cared for him and provided him with everything he could, not as an offering, not as a suggestion, but as a demand. Josh, who was brave enough to shove his bleeding arm in front of a starving vampire, but who fumbled over his words when asking Aidan to take off his shirt for mark measuring the next day. The man who'd gone from the kicked-around kid in the knit cap and brown vest to someone he barely recognized. Someone who could make him laugh, drive him crazy, get him to tell the truth when he was convinced he'd rather take it to the grave, and stick around to pick up the pieces when the other people he loved left him ruined and half-destroyed. Someone who lapsed into medieval speak when picking up chicks and thought feverfew was a band.

Josh was his—Aidan didn't have a word for it any better than Josh had, when he'd said "You're my—" Josh was his…

And there it was, quite simply.

Josh was his. Full stop.

Aidan closed his eyes and laughed, unable to stop the sound that bubbled up within him. It was the least funny thing in the world, but some days life was simply too ironic and mystifying to be anything but humorous. It seemed even two centuries in Aidan could still find the most creative, inventive ways to screw himself over.