Emily's bedroom felt a little small, being dominated by a large canopy bed and matching armoire. The nightstand held a small box, with only a delicate carving of a detailed heart on the top.

"That was my mothers, it's a music box." Emily said, lifting the lid. The twinkling melody petered out of the box. The tune was almost melancholy, but childish. The sound made David's earlier euphoria from just minutes before fade. It was a haunting, disturbing tune.

"It's beautiful." He said, unsure of what else to say.

Emily nodded, and turned her head to look at him. "Ah, shall we get comfortable, then?"

Neither of them had any experience in the act. It was one of those things: Parents did not speak to their growing children of it, parents did not explain where younger siblings came from, and, heaven forbid, they did not explain how it was done. It was not to be done before marriage. And as either David nor Emily were married or engaged, they were struck for a few moments on how it worked. Eventually, though, nature provided them in the right direction. Things went rather smoothly from there.

David was pulling his pants back up as Emily lay on the bed, watching his back. She felt wonderful, still on a joyous high from their adventure. She saw the sketch folded neatly inside David's pants pocket. "Is that father's drawing?"

David's hand fell to the picture. "Yes, it is." He said, He pulled it out, admiring the lines under the moonlight. The bedpost cast a line down the middle of the picture, giving him an idea.

"What are you doing?" Emily hissed. David had carefully folded it down the middle and was now tearing it into two, doing so very slowly.

"I'm dividing it in half." He responded. "You'll take the half with me, and I'll take the half with you. We can even write addresses on the back to write letters." He turned them over, but to his surprise, the note Mr. Willows had scribbled on the back was their address. "Although your father beat me to yours."

Emily sat up. "That's a good idea."

David passed his side to her. "Keep it on your person at all times, alright?"

"Why?"

He didn't quite know how to answer that. His instincts were telling him that something big, really big, was going to happen, but what it was, he had no idea.

"I don't know. But please…will you?"

Emily looked into David's eyes for a moment, and softened. "I will."

"Thank you." Finished fastening his pants, he straightened and looked at her on the bed. He was in the window, leaving only his silhouette visible to her. It was probably very late, and he knew that it was time to get back to his own hotel room. "I should go."

Emily nodded and climbed off the bed. She led the way to the door. "Will I see you tomorrow?"

David's instincts flared at that word, telling him it wouldn't come. But he lied. "Of course."

Emily gave a nod, and opened the door. "Good night."

"Good night."

David sank onto his bed when he returned to his room. It was lucky that he had a key in his pocket; otherwise, his parents could have realized that he didn't come back. He had the idea that if he had to go down to the lobby and have the night clerk let him in, they could have known. Clerks didn't get that quiet was important when sneaking in.

Sleep was slowly claiming him, but pulled himself off his bed long enough to put on pyjamas and slip back under the covers. They were so soft, and David hadn't been able to appreciate them the night before. But now, he had Emily's address-so he could mail her-and they had somewhat declared themselves to each other in her bed, so he was elated.
He drifted off to sleep, the moonlight reflecting in his face.

A sudden tremor pulled David from slumber, jolting him sitting upright. What in the world was that? It can't-it can't be an earthquake! It was followed half a minute later by a shaking even worse than the first. He threw the sheets off of him and ran out of the bedroom. His parents ran out of their room a second later.

Without saying a word, David opened the door and ran out before his parents. Other guests were doing the same thing, filling the air with screams and they stumbled in the shaking. One person fell to the floor and was quickly trampled. Everyone was moving for the golden elevator, but it wasn't moving and there was no way everyone would get down it.

"THIS WAY!" David roared to his parents, pumping his arm towards the staircase. The family ran down, his mother's chest heaving hysterically. The shaking stopped, and, for a moment, all was still. But it started again, like a low, dull roar. The window in the stairway revealed a horrifying sight: The view was shifting, becoming lower and lower. The hotel was sinking.

"RUN FASTER!" Mr. Laurent shrieked, pulling his wife as fast as he could. David followed, but stumbled briefly, letting his parents get out of sight. He could hear screams puncture the air through the stairway and floors.

He leaped the last three steps into the lobby, where the guests from all floors were running in their nightclothes, shoeless, looking frantically for friends and family members. The staff was doing similarly.

David was shoved to the side of the room, before the debris started to fall. He stumbled again, falling to the floor as a large rock fell.

A piercing, white-hot pain attacked his limbs and he roared in agony. The rock was crushing and puncturing his legs simultaneously. Blood was beginning to seep out onto the floor.

A red haired figure streaked past, and David reached out his arm, trembling.

"Emily…." He cried. His voice was little more than a whimper. The lights were beginning to dim as black spots spread over his vision.

He lost consciousness, still trapped under the rock.

-----

"Shhhh, don't make a sound, I'm here."

A voice was softly speaking to him, a hand patting him gently on the head for a moment. David's eyes were too weak to open, and he lay there. He was barely awake, the crushing weight ending any possible saving of his legs. If he didn't die, he'd never walk again, that was certain.

"Now, don't think like that. Just rest, close your eyes, relax. I'll get you out of here." The same voice assured him. The patting of his head stopped, and he realized that he could hear other voices, yells, grunts. The shifting of debris filtered out other noises every few seconds.

There was a grunt, and the insane weight lifted off his legs. "There we are," the voice said approvingly. "Just remain slack, and I'll get you fit as a fiddle in no time, my boy."
A sheet of some sort was swept over him, the softness rough on his skin. He was very carefully turned over under the blanket, and a strong pair of arms lifted him up. His own arms dangled below him.

The arms-his brain dimly wondered if the voice owned the arms- began carrying him. "This one's gone," The voice said to another. "I'll deliver it with the other one." A second of fear flickered through him. Was he dead?

The arms were lifting him up a steep...something. Feet crunched over gravel and small rubble, before David was carefully laid, sitting up, in a somewhat cushioned seat of some sort. His hand was uncovered by the wind, and he could feel another blanket next to him. There was a very soft moan from the other blanket.

The seat bounced slightly as the voice spoke again. "You two will be stronger than ever soon enough. In fact, you'll probably never hurt again!" It chuckled, as the sound of an engine started up. The crunching sound started again, and he could feel himself moving, not of his own volition.

The engine stopped a short while later. There was a grunt as the other blanket was removed, followed by the sound of someone walking over wooden planks. There was the whine of a dog close by.

"Thorn, keep guard over our other new guest."

What was a Thorn? David wondered. He coughed a little. He still couldn't feel his legs.
The arms returned and lifted him up, and he was carried. The sound of walking on wooden planks was under him now, and stopped after a few second. It was a second or two later that he was gently laid on a soft surface. A bed? A soft bit of grass? He still didn't know if he was dead or not.

The blanket was removed from his face, and he squinted with a little energy as he could muster. There was a bright light off to the side-was he in Heaven? Was that why he didn't feel his legs?

And who was that?

A male face, benign and concerned, looked down at him. He recognized the man from somewhere. Somewhere with food, and something that involved money.

"Still awake? Your new brother's still out." He said. He was the voice, it seemed.
David couldn't work his vocal cords. His mouth had been open, slack, since he woke, and it was dry as a bone. He wondered if the man had anything to drink.

"That can wait a moment. But first-do you want to be healed?" the man asked. "Do you want to live forever young? I can give you that. Do you want it?"

He briefly considered it. Anything below his lower stomach was a dull ache, and he felt like needles and pins were stuck all over his body. Yes, he wanted healing. And being young would be nice.

"Very good, then. Drink this, you'll feel better."

A glint of metal reflected in his eyes, and a minute later a goblet of some sort was pressed to his lips. The man gently opened his lips wider, tipping the goblet into the opening.

The liquid that streamed from it was thick, warm. It had a funny coppery taste, but he liked it. The goblet's flow slowed, and his mouth opened and closed a little. Would he get more? It tasted so good, and the pain was just beginning to lessen. His eyelids felt so heavy.

"Now, you should sleep. My name is Max. I'll be your new father. Sleep today, and tonight, I'll give you more."

David's eyelids flickered, and he wondered why it became so dark when the man-Max? - exterminated the dimly glowing light bulb on the table. He squinted over his head, realizing that heavy, thick blinds covered the windows.

"Sleep." Max said firmly. He placed a finger over his eyes, closing the lids. His fingers were so cold, like the dead.

"There's a reason. Now, go to sleep. Things will be clearer this evening. I have to tend to your new brother."

He could hear the heavy footsteps leave the room. The man's voice was in the next room, he guessed. Sounded like he was murmuring to his brother? But he was an only child. He didn't have a brother.

The goblet was on the table next to him. He could smell the faintest traces of the coppery liquid left clinging to the bottom. But he was so weak, too weak to reach over and grab it. After stretching over with his head, he slumped back against the pillow. God, he was tired. Maybe he should sleep. If he was tired, did that mean he wasn't dead?

His closed eyes were becoming vacant. Sleep did sound nice. Even though the shade covered every inch of the window, he could almost see the sun rise slowly. The very thought made sleep all the more appealing.

Perhaps he would sleep. His last thought was if Emily had survived whatever happened.

David woke with a groan. He was thirsty, unbelievably thirsty. Didn't the man say he could have more of the liquid that night? It felt like night. What was his name? Max? That sounded right.

With a start, he realized that the pain was lessened a little, and some feeling had returned to his legs. With a lot of effort, he could just feel his toes wiggle slightly, and took great delight in repeating the action.

The gentle sounds of speaking were in the next room. There was a low groan, and Max entered his room. "Ah, an early riser, I see."

David opened his mouth like a fish. He was too thirsty to speak. He desperately wanted the liquid again.

"Yes, I thought you might. Luckily, I topped up a bottle before I came up."

Max poured the contents of a wine bottle into the goblet. The scent of the salty, coppery liquid filled the room. He whimpered, wanting it so badly.

"Yes, you can have it. Drink, drink all you want."

The goblet was pressed once more to David's lips, and it streamed down his throat.
"M-more." David whimpered, his voice so quiet it was almost inaudible.

"Drink." Again, the goblet was pressed to his lips. He drank it eagerly, the taste reminding him of the time he sucked the poison from a snakebite in his knee. It was so much like-

Blood.

It was blood.

He stopped drinking, looking blearily at Max. "B…lood. Blood."

"Yes, it is." The man responded. "Is there something wrong with that?"

Of course there was; he couldn't drink blood. It was disgusting.

"You want it, don't you?"

He did; but half of him was disgusted.

"That will fade, I assure you. It's already healing your body, did you notice?"

He had, but he hadn't attributed it to drinking blood.

Oh, God, was he a vampire?

"No, my boy. You're a half vampire."

A what?

"A half vampire. You will become a full vampire when you make your first kill."

He couldn't kill someone, that was wrong. But even so, David wanted the blood so badly.

Max patted him on the head. There was another low moan from the room next door.

"Ah, your brother's waking up." Max straightened, dusting off his impeccable clothes. "I'll have to borrow this bottle, though. He will need it terribly. The poor lad's even worse off than you, and you had a boulder crushing your legs!"

David's eyes widened as Max left his room. A boulder had crushed his legs? Is that why they had hurt so much? Was that why he had been unable to move or feel his legs?

And as for being a vampire- Right now, it sounded a little okay, if it stopped the hurting in his legs. But he couldn't see his family if he was one, could he?

The faces of Emily and his parents swirled over his head. His parents irritated him to no end, but he still wanted to see them again.

He closed his eyes. This was complicated.

He could hear Max's voice next door. The man spoke softly, reminiscent of being in the room of the infirm. Was the person in there very ill? He supposed he was; after all, he had been told that he was better off than this brother. Still couldn't remember having a brother.

He stared over his head at the ceiling. What was he going to do, lying in this bed while his legs healed? He couldn't walk, that was for sure. He briefly wondered what had happened at the hotel.

Max re-entered the room again. Was he going to keep moving back and forth, in between the two? Wouldn't it have been easier to put them in one room?

Max paused. "That is an excellent idea." He moved over to examine David, checking over his legs intently. "Hopefully, they won't be too jostled. Nonetheless, I have something to help prevent that…"

He left once more, returning with two pieces of wood and blankets. "We'll wrap you up and stiffen your legs with the wood." He explained. A thought dimly registered in David's brain, acknowledging the idea.

His legs had a piece of wood wrapped in a blanket each under his legs, and then wrapped with the wood in another blanket. By the end, he seemed to have a tail instead of legs.

He was lifted by Max, and maneuvered out the door. His eyelids flickered, the light in the small hallway was brighter than in his room. The room he was brought into was also darker than the hall, and had two beds. One was occupied, but he couldn't make out any features.

Max carefully laid David on the second bed, in the corner. Then, carefully, his legs were unwrapped. The bottle, on the nightstand between the two beds, was tipped to his lips. He was allowed only a few sips, but it cleared another part of the murk surrounding his mind.

"That was an excellent idea. Now, you know my name, and I am sure of yours, but tell me your name."

"David." He croaked. His voice sounded horrible. "David Laurent."

"No no, not David Laurent. The name 'Laurent' is now dead to you." Max said. It would not do to have sons with different names than his. "From tonight on you are David Walter. Like myself and your brother." He gestured to the other bed. David turned to look at his 'new brother' for the first time.

To his surprise, it was the desk clerk from the previous day. His dark hair was matted and had dust in it, but that wasn't the worst. A piece of cloth was tied around his head and covered his eyes. There were specks of blood staining it. His nose twitched. He could smell the blood in the boy.

"You see, David, he's not a half vampire yet." David turned to look at Max, a little surprised. "He's still gravely ill. He will be your brother, but it's best for them to be conscious when they drink. And, of course, it helps them if one gets their approval. Makes things much less complicated. But even so, vampiric blood is good for healing, even on mortals."
Max pulled down the boy's blankets, enough for David to see cloths coating his chest. They were deep red. "So, if I put some of my own blood in contact with his skin, it will help him wake sooner."

The boy groaned, as if he knew they were talking about him.

"He should hopefully wake up tomorrow."

His mouth opened and closed, while his brain looked to find the words. Max stopped him by putting a finger to his lips. "Hush. You need rest."

But he wanted to know what had happened. Couldn't Max tell him while he rested?

"I could." Max pondered that for a moment, and shrugged. "I'll tell you what happened, if you so want."

He sat on the only chair in the room, making himself comfortable before starting in. "There was an earthquake last night."

That single sentence made his heart stop for a moment. So there had been an earthquake.

"I was flying by the hotel at the time when the San Andreas Fault started rumbling. Almost immediately after the quake, the ground under the hotel crumbled. It sank into the ground, swallowed down its gullet. There were a lot of injuries. By the time an hour had passed, volunteers were beginning to search for survivors….and bodies." Max paused; he felt no need to explain why he had chosen both boys. He would have to change the story slightly. "When I found your brother, he was trapped under a chandelier and rocks. They broke his ribs, punctured his eyes, and seriously wounded him. He would be long dead by now if I hadn't decided to make him my son. I pulled one of the sheets over him, and brought him up to my car. If anyone asked, he was dead, too gruesome to remain at the hotel. I went back down. That's when I saw you, under the rock."

"Well, you were much easier to get out. There was less debris, for one. And you weren't injured as badly. I did the same as before; a sheet over you. You were in my car, next to the other. I brought you here, to my home, and there we are. That's what happened."

David was silent. Had he been able to say anything above a whisper, he might have cried out. But he couldn't. To his family, he was probably dead. To Emily, he was probably dead. He would be forgotten, a name left on a memorial; nothing more. Despair welled up within him. He was so distressed, he didn't even notice that Max had said 'flying by'.

"Now, don't think like that." Max pressed the wine bottle to his lips once more. "You are now my first born son, my childe. That is a weighty place to us."

He wondered how so. The blood in the bottle felt so smooth down his throat, soothing his voice box and making him feel more energetic, he spoke, quietly. His voice was creaky and weathered. "How is that?"

"First childes usually are a little more powerful than the others." Max explained. "Their parent vampire, or sire, as we say, often imbues the first drink of their first childe with one of their own gifts-we can develop such gifts over time. But only the first childe can receive this, and if the sire chooses to pass over it, it can happen no more until all his children die."

"Did I get it?" he asked. He had noticed that speaking in a whisper was much less painful than trying to speak at a normal volume. And Max seemed to be able to hear it.
"Perhaps…" Max responded. "Perhaps not. I'm not going to tell you."

David frowned. He wanted to know.

He was distracted then by a loud rumble in his abdomen. He was hungry-how had he not noticed before?

"You sound like you're hungry," Max said, a smile twitching the corners of his mouth. "I'll see if I have anything good to eat. I don't need to eat, so I don't usually have a full pantry. When the maid comes in, she brings her own meals."

He watched as Max left with a chuckle. The other boy let out a soft moan