Truth and Consequences

by Soledad

A "Pathways in the Dark" story

Part 18 of "The Toreador Chronicles". Follows "Acceptance".

For disclaimer and background information see the Introduction.

Rating: 16+, just to be on the safe side. Mostly for language and some disturbing topics.

Author's note: The "One Vessel" is a concept I found somewhere in a fanfic and found it interesting. Basically, it means that a certain vampire only feeds from one particular person. If the vampire chooses his or her "One Vessel", s/he becomes unable to feed from anyone else. As a consequence, if that person dies, the vampire won't survive, either.

Summary: After twenty years, Brian and Michael finally do the deed. Unfortunately Michael wakes before Brian does, and freaks out to find him not breathing. They have to reveal him everything, offering him the usual choices, but Michael is not in his right mind to choose just yet. So, this being LA, they give him time to think about it.

Part 2

Emmett was engaged in some definitely decadent activities – decadent even in his own terms – with Ash Rivers, when his cell phone rang. With a sigh, he reached out of the opulent bathtub and picked up the phone. To his surprise, it was Michael – a Michael, breaking down in hysterics.

"Oh, God, Emmett, he's not breathing!" he wailed. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Calm down, sweetie," Emmett tried to soothe his own nerves. "Who's not breathing?"

"Brian, who else?" Michael sobbed. "We've… we've finally done it, Em, we were at it half the night, and when I woke, he fucking wasn't breathing, and he was… he was so cool to the touch…"

Emmett suppressed the urge to say 'as he's supposed to be', and tried to keep Michael talking to him, in the hope that Brian would wake and do something, when he'd made such a stupid mistake.

Which was a strange thing in itself. Brian had always been a light sleeper, even in his mortal days, unless he was very, very drunk, or stoned, or – or with Michael! Of course! Emmett mentally slapped himself. Only with Michael would Brian lower his defences so far that he could sleep through even Michael's wailing.

Wait a minute! What had Michael just said? That he and Brian… half the night… Ooh, that was definitely not a good thing!

Under normal circumstances, Emmett would have loved to hear the story of their first night together, in all its gloriously dirty details. He was a perv, after all, and proud of it. But having a fledgling vampire alone with a clueless mortal, after some serious physical activity, and Brian had been out in the sunlight in the previous afternoon… nonononono, that was not good, not good at all!

"Listen to me, sweetie," he interrupted Michael, trying to speak as calmly as he could, despite his own rising panic. "I'll be there with you, as soon as possible. Now, I want you to leave the flat at once, lock the door behind you, and wait for me in that cocktail bar on the opposite side of the street. Do you understand me?"

"But Em, Brian… he needs help…" Michael protested.

"No, he doesn't," Emmett interrupted him again. "But you will, if you don't get away from there, now!"

"What…?"

"Michael, I don't have the time to explain… you don't have the time. Just get the hell out of there, and make sure you'll have people around you. I'll tell you everything, just leave, please!"

"But…"

"No buts, Michael. I'm deadly serious. Promise me that you'll do what I told you to do."

"I promise, but…"

"Later. I'm leaving now… and so should you. Run!" With that, Emmett hung up, just to hit Alain's number on the speed-dial, praying that the older vampire would have the cell phone on him.

To his eternal relief, Alain picked up the phone after the second ring.

"Emmett?" he asked in surprise. "Is something wrong?"

"Afraid so," Emmett mentally thanked the genius who'd provided cell phones with displays; it made lengthy introductions unnecessary. "How fast can you get to my place?"

"Depends on the nature of the emergency," Alain replied. "How bad is it?"

"Michael thinks Brian is dead," Emmett summarized the problem. "Obviously, Brian is seeping so deeply that not even Michael's screaming at me through the phone has waken him… so far. But he will wake, soon – and he'll be hungry."

"I'll fly," Alain decided, once again demonstrating his unparalleled ability to deal with first things first. "Have you told Michael to leave?"

"I have," Emmett said, "but I'm not sure he'll listen."

"All right; I'll meet you there. Hurry up!" Without wasting any more time, Alain hung up.

Emmett climbed out of the bathtub in haste, to get dressed and on his way home without further delay.

Emmett's strange reaction had freaked the shit out of Michael, to be honest. What was wrong with Em anyway? Brian wasn't breathing, he was probably dead, and Emmett was worried about Michael? That didn't make any sense.

On the other hand, Emmett had been there with Brian, ever since they'd left the Pitts together. He knew more about the things that happened behind the scenes. And he had sounded seriously worried, which didn't help to calm down Michael's nerves a bit. For all his nelly breeziness, Emmett wasn't one to panic easily. Yet he had sounded definitely panicking in the phone.

Something was very, very wrong with the whole situation.

Usually, Michael wasn't prone to abrupt decisions – well, save that one time when he'd run away with Hunter – yet right now, he had the urgent wish to be somewhere else. Preferably far, far away. Emmett had told him to run, and all his instincts that had helped him to survive in a still fairly homophobic society were screaming at him to do just that. But he couldn't simply leave, without taking a last, hard look at Brian. If these people were as good at covering their tracks as he believed them to be, he might not have another chance.

Yeah, it was probably foolish, but Michael had never left Brian behind before, no matter what. He would not begin with it now. Even if going back to the bedroom was as stupid an idea as Emmett's panicky tone had suggested.

However, the decision was taken off his hand, as the closed (though still not locked) bedroom door was torn out of its hinges as if flown away by some unknown force of nature, and thrown across the living room like some dried autumn leaf. And standing there in the doorway was Brian, shirtless but wearing his expensive Fortier suit on his bare body, looking like… like nothing Michael had ever seen before, although he'd seen Brian in all possible degrees of undressed state.

It was Brian – and yet it was not. As if illuminated by some harsh, blue light, he seemed paler than ever, his beautiful features angular and hard, mirroring some savage need Michael could not even begin to understand. His hands were curled to fists, so tightly that blood was seeping from under his fingernails where they were pressed into his palm. He breathed harshly and laboured through his half-open mouth… and two long, sharp canines like those of a dog or some other large predator, were clearly visible behind his curled-back lips.

Michael felt fresh panic rising from the pit of his stomach. What sort of drugs was Brian on? First he'd stopped breathing, and now, after he'd come by, he was snarling like some mindless beast. And what was that, that business with the… the fangs? People often teased Michael about his sharp, slightly elongated eye-teeth, calling him a vampire, but his "fangs" were nothing compared with the ones Brian was displaying right now.

"Bri," he tried shakily. "What's happening to you?"

His voice seemed to wake Brian from his fugue. He blinked a few times, looked from Michael to the door now lying on the living room floor, and groaned.

"Mikey," he said through clenched teeth, "get out of here! Now, before it's too late!"

"Too late for what?" Michael asked in confusion. "Are you on some new shit again, or whatnot?"

"Actually, it's rather old shit," Brian replied. "For fuck's sake, Mikey, get out! I don't know how long I'm gonna last, and I really don't wanna hurt you!"

"Hurt me?" Michael was seriously panicking by now, which was unfortunate, because panic tended to lame him, instead of inspiring him to any useful action.

Of course, Brian gnashing his teeth – including the long and pointy canines – and becoming silver-eyed, didn't help things. And was that an inhuman growl coming from deep his throat?

For the first time in twenty years, Michael was scared shitless of his best friend. He actually feared for his life. Brian, the old Brian he'd used to know, would never harm him (even though he had hit him once, in a fit of outrage). But this… this creature was not Brian; not entirely. Hell, he didn't even look entirely human! What sort of drug could cause such frightening changes?

For the rest of his life – and, although he didn't know it yet, that was going to be a very long time – Michael would ask him again and again whether Brian would have killed him in that terrible moment or not. Whether he would have had the strength to withstand the Beast roaring with hunger inside him. He always hoped that the answer would have been 'yes', but he could never be entirely sure.

Well, at the very least Brian was trying.

Luckily for them both, the test that Brian might or might not have failed, never came to its extreme. When Michael had already given up hope, a small, dark… something, by the shape of it some kind of bird, swooped in through an open window. And in the next moment Michael readily admitted having gone mad, because the bird somersaulted in mid-fight, and when it his ground, it wasn't a bird anymore, but Alain DeLaigle in person. An apparently royally pissed Alain DeLaigle, sporting the same set of silver eyes and elongated canines as Brian.

From that moment on, things began to take a really weird turn, and Michael's brain simply shut down, unwilling – or probably unable – to try understanding things that denied simple human comprehension. Alain grabbed Brian's arm (and Michael noticed with morbid fascination that the artist's otherwise well-manicured fingers were now sporting long, curved talons that cut deeply into Brian's flesh) and stared into Brian's eyes as a snake would stare at a bird it wanted to devour.

Even the effect seemed to be the same. As if under a spell, Brian seemed to calm down, although his eyes remained silvery, and his canines did not retreat. His fist loosened, and Michael noticed the talons on the end of his fingers as well. His palms were bloody, where those sharp things had been pressed against them.

"It's all right, Childe," Alain said in a low, almost hypnotic voice. "You can feed in a moment. Do you think I can let go of you now?"

Child? Why was he calling Brian a child? Wasn't Brian the older one of them? Or is that some kind of weird ritual between the two of them? Some kind of role-playing?

Brian nodded, though the gesture was still a bit frantic. Alain let go of him, ready to grab him again if necessary. Then, to Michael's honest shock, he drew a heavy talon across his own wrist and offered the bleeding cut to Brian.

"Here, Childe," he said. "Feed and find yourself again."

Michael watched, swaying between horror and awe, as Brian grabbed Alain's bleeding wrist with both hands (talons fully extended now), brought it to his mouth, latched onto the small wound and began to slurp the upswelling blood. Alain didn't seem to mind. In fact, the way he threw his head back in ecstasy spoke of a pleasant experience. Still, Michael had the vague feeling that he might become sick.

What sort of weird practices do these two indulge in?

Alain's eyes opened again and turned to him, burning with an unholy silver gleam.

"Do you want to give it a try?" the artist asked in a low, seductive voice.

Michael did an involuntary step backwards.

"I don't know what weird shit you guys are on, and I don't even want to know," he said, his voice acquiring a slightly hysteric overtone. "In fact, Bri, I don't wanna have anything to do with you as long as you're on this stuff. You're gonna make an anti-drug therapy, or we're done with each other for good."

"I'm afraid it's not that simple," Alain replied, his voice gently amused now. "You see, this… stuff, as you call it, is extremely addictive. I've been 'on it' for the last five hundred years or so; and there's no way to undo the Change. Ever."

Michael stared at him in shocked disbelief. Even with the weird fangs and talons, Alain looked so… so normal, so calm, so much his everyday self, that if not for the silver eyes and the rest, the whole thing could have been some morbid joke. Sure, there were such things as silver contact lenses, but still…

"You're insane," he finally said.

"No," Alain replied calmly. "I'm undead, and so is your friend. A vampire, as you mortals like to call us. We prefer the term 'Kindred', though."

"We?" Michael echoed, simply because he couldn't really think of anything else to say.

"Our kind," Alain specified. "There are more of us than you would believe. You've worked with Kindred closely ever since you came to LA for the first time."

"Yeah, sure," Michael snorted. "And I'm still alive… why exactly?"

"We don't kill our Vessels… the humans we feed from," Alain said. "Well, some of us do, but that's against Kindred law, and such beasts are exterminated. We police our own people, because living among mortals undetected is our best chance to survive."

"No," Michael said determinedly. "You're not going to feed me some stupid story. I won't go for it. There's no such thing as vampires, only in idiotic movies, and whatever sick shit you're involved in, I don't wanna be part of it."

"I'd reconsider if I were you, sweetie," a familiar voice said, and Emmett waltzed in, cool as a cucumber, not showing any signs of surprise at the sight of Brian slurping Alain's blood.

Michael whirled around and glared at his friend. "Stay out of this, Emmett!"

"Sorry, can't do," Emmett replied blithely and gave his well-manicured hand a studious look. A talon extended from his index finger; he retracted it after a long moment, giving Michael ample time to notice it.

"You, too?" Michael gasped.

"Actually, I was the first," Emmett said nonchalantly. "Brian came well after me."

In the meantime, Brian had finished the bloodsucking act and licked Alain's wrist clean. The small cut closed before Michael's very eyes, even the scar fading to nothing within the minute.

"What… what was that?" Michael asked. It had to be some trick, he assured himself. Stage magicians did such things all the time.

"Kindred heal fast," Emmett answered with a shrug. "Something or other in our saliva… you should ask one of our doctors about it. We heal the ones we drink from the same way."

"You really should give it a try," Alain added calmly. "That's the only way to understand. I could tell you about Kindred history and laws all day long, and you wouldn't get a clue. In this particular case, experience is the only thing that could make you see who – or what – we truly are."

Michael rolled his eyes. "You really think you could make me believe in this weird shit?"

"Mikey," Brian interrupted. "Do you trust me?"

Michael hesitated. To be honest, at this very moment he wouldn't trust Brian – or either of the other two – as far as he could throw them.

"I'd like to," he said slowly. "But you guys aren't making it easy."

Brian came closer to him, took his hand in his own, turned his palm upside and, lifting it to his lips, kissed the pulse point. Now that he'd fed – and from his Sire, no less – he cold withstand the lure of Michael's blood, being pumped through his friend's veins by a generous heart.

"Would you allow me to taste you?" he asked quietly. "I could have done so while you were out, you know… but I'd never touch you without your consent… in any way."

"T-taste me?" Michael stuttered. "Slit my wrist like Alain has just done to himself?"

"No," Brian said soothingly. "That was feeding. I'd just nick a vein with the tip of a fang… you'd barely feel any pain at all. No more than by getting shot some bug."

"It's called the Kiss," Alain injected. "It's what makes us to what we are. We don't simply use mortals as a food source. Through the Kiss, we also share their emotions… and the mortals we touch this way experience ecstasy beyond their imagination."

"Ecstasy, my lily white ass!" Michael snorted. He could barely resist the urge to snatch his hand away and run until he could run no more. They'd never let him get away, of course; he knew that.

"You'll never know, until you've tried it," Brian murmured against his wrist, his cool breath tickling Michael's skin. "Besides, I've got a soft spot for your lily white ass, you know that."

Their eyes met for a second, and Brian's eyes were familiar again: hazel, without any tint of silver. Michael felt himself relaxing, for the first time since he'd awaken beside an eerily silent, not-breathing Brian.

"That's the safest way for you to understand – and perhaps accept – what I've become," Brian added. "And it will be pleasurable. I promise."

"And it won't hurt?" Michael knew he was being stupid and childish, but he couldn't help it. The whole thing was just too weird to take in."

That slow, singularly sweet smile he'd known for the last twenty years (he and probably nobody else) spread across Brian's face.

"Only in a good way," Brian answered, and Michael was undone by the warmth and sensuality in his voice again.

"All right," he said. "Do it, before I change my mind."

During the whole time, Alain was watching them intently. He knew what a leap in faith this was for Michael, who'd lived surrounded by all sorts of Kindred in happy ignorance, ever since coming to LA: It was only his unconditional love to Brian that made him agree to the blood-sharing, even though Alain was sure he still didn't believe the vampire thing. But Brian wanted this, and so Michael was giving it to him. It was that simple.

Michael's aura, usually a warm golden hue, darkened to deep amber as Brian lifted his wrist again and began to lick the big vein to the surface. Brian's own aura, most of the time a tightly-wrapped cold blue one, was tingled with gold now, as always when in the company of his childhood love, and had extended twice its regular width.

These two completed each other in a way Alain, in all his five hundred years of existence, had never seen before. He had no doubt that neither would be able to exist without the other one.

Emmett moved over to them, with the noiseless grace of his now undead nature, and hugged Michael from behind, in mute support. Alain remained in his place of observation. This was a moment of intimate familiarity between these tree young men, a familiarity grown from years of friendship and trust. In this circle, he had no place.

Michael leaned back against Emmett thankfully, his free hand clutching to Emmett's arm that was holding him. He jerked, more in surprise than in real pain, as Brian's fangs nicked the vein. It was barely more than a pinprick, sending a jolt o heat through his entire body, right to his groin. A thin trail of blood welled up on his pale wrist, and he froze when Brian began to lap it up, playfully like a kitten.

He had to admit that both the sight and the feeling were beyond hot. He felt himself hardening, slowly but steadily.

Unexpectedly, Brian now grabbed his wrist with both hands and sank his fangs deeper into the flesh, sucking lightly. Michael trashed in Emmett's iron hold as the sharp pain of the bite transformed into equally sharp pleasure, burning along his every single nerve like wildfire. He could feel the hot wave of Brian's pleasure reflecting in his mind, and that was almost more than what he could bear. He vaguely realized that he was moaning, but he really couldn't bother to care. This was just too good, too hot.

"Carefully, Childe," Alain warned in a low voice. "You're losing control rapidly."

He added a much sharper warning, one like a mental whiplash – now that Brian had just fed from him, their link was particularly strong – to snap his Childe out of his haze. Angelus had made adamantly clear that no more… accidents would be tolerated. There had been too many of those lately, and the Prince was emphatically displeased about that fact.

Understanding the warning, Brian withdrew his fangs from Michael's flesh with a reluctant sigh, licking the small puncture wounds closed and sealed. Michael was still trembling in Emmett's arms, coming down slowly from his adrenaline- and endorphin-induced high.

"That was… quite something," he finally muttered. "I… I think I need to sit down now."

Emmett helped him to the nearest armchair, and Michael practically plummeted into it, still breathing heavily.

"You were right," he looked at Alain. "I needed the experience. Words couldn't describe this."

Alain nodded. "And what do you think now, that you've experienced it?" he asked.

"I'm still freaked out, big time," Michael admitted honestly, "and still not entirely willing to believe the whole thing. I… I need to give this a great deal of thought. And I need to talk to Brian… and to Emmett."

"It's not an easy thing to accept, especially in a century that's so unwilling to believe anything beyond the material," Alain said. "Take your time. I'll leave you alone to sort it out. I've got an appointment with Phillipe anyway."

"Do you really believe that Michael will accept the Embrace eventually?" Phillipe Navital seemed more than a little doubtful about that.

They were sitting in the D'Oblique, this being one of their semi-regular meetings, a recurring occasion to discuss Camarilla politics in a generally Anarch city. Aside from being long-time friends, they were also allies in Clan politics.

"I'm having my doubts, too," Alain admitted. "There's precious little unlife could offer him – he's a man of very simple pleasures, all of which he can get as a mortal as well."

"Aside from Brian," Phillipe commented. "I think we both agree that nothing about Brian is ever simple."

Alain nodded. "Aside from Brian, yes, and immortality to make up for the years they've so foolishly wasted."

"Still," Phillipe said thoughtfully, "if he only accepts because of Brian, his unlife is going to be a never-ending misery. Perhaps I lack imagination, but I'm having a hard time to imagine him living in the Dark. If anyone ever needed the Sun in their life, it's certainly Michael."

"This worries me, too," Alain replied. "He seems to enjoy the Californian summer so much, and he was so excited about moving to the Marina… I don't doubt that he'd willingly give it up for the chance to spend eternity with Brian, but I'm afraid that after a while he'll come to resent his choice. And even not considering his importance for Brian – though it's hard to ignore, even in theory – I'd hate to see him take a walk in the Sun."

"There are other possibilities," Phillipe pointed out. "You could make him a ghoul. That would allow him to keep his life as it is now – well, more or less – and it would stop his aging just the same."

"Brian is still too young for a Kindred to create a personal ghoul," Alain said.

"But you're not," Phillipe replied. "And if you make him, he'll be able to get his fix from anyone of your bloodline – including Brian."

"Perhaps," Alain allowed. "But Kindred and ghoul are not equals; and I don't think that Brian would accept Michael's inferior status in our family, even if Michael might."

"He wouldn't be inferior if he were the One Vessel for Brian," Phillipe said. "On the contrary, that would make him a most valued member of your family."

"And it would also create a fatal weakness for Brian," Alain replied. "If he depended on Michael's blood singularly, all any idiot had to do to destroy him would be to kill Michael."

"Surely you could protect Michael," Phillipe said.

Alain nodded. "Mais oui, I could. But he won't be willing to live in protective custody, not that I'd blame him for it. I couldn't do that, either."

"Still, this is an option that you should offer to him," Phillipe insisted. "This, or simply being a ghoul for a while. You could still Embrace him later, when he's figured out what he'd prefer. If he's willing to accept any part of our existence, that is."

"I hope he is," Alain replied seriously, "because mortal or undead, Brian won't be able to exist without him. Just as he won't be able to exist without Brian."

"Does that fact bother you?" Phillipe asked carefully, knowing Alain's possessive nature from personal experience."

"I can't deny it," Alain replied honestly. "But since this is my only choice to keep Brian, I'll have to learn to live with it."

Unsurprisingly enough, in Michael and Emmett's apartment, the three friends were discussing the same thing. Michael had finally been told the whole story – in minute detail, and, in Emmett's case, with colourful descriptions – how his two friends had become citizens of the undead society. Understandably, he freaked out a bit again when told about Emmett's Embrace-by-accident, and he'd sworn secrecy for the sake of his friend. He really didn't want murderous female assassins going after Emmett and killing him brutally.

However, it was Brian's decision that troubled him even more.

"Why, Bri?" he asked forlornly. "Why would you choose a life like this? I mean, Em didn't really have a choice, but you? You had everything you'd ever wanted. And you were offered a free choice, unlike Em. You could have refused, couldn't you?"

"Yeah," Brian said. "They didn't force me, if that's what you mean."

"Then why?" Michael insisted. "Was it because of Alain? Does he mean so much to you that you'd even throw away your fucking life to be with him?" There was definite hurt and jealousy in his voice.

"Nah," Brian replied with an unexpected grin. "Actually, it was because of you."

Michael glared at him as if looking for clear signs of insanity in his face.

"Me?" he repeated blandly. "What the fuck have I got to do with your insane decision to become a vampire? Hell I still don't entirely believe the whole thing!"

Brian tried to find an answer that would have been true without being soppy or too embarrassing – and couldn't. Thankfully, Emmett, who considered soppiness a virtue, hurried to his aid.

"Well, he finally realized that he'd been as much in love with you all these years as you've been pining after him," he explained with disarming simplicity, "and began to despair all over those wasted years. Becoming an undead monster of the night gave him enough time to woo your properly and remain with you till the second coming of the Antediluvians."

Michael rubbed his temples, feeling the first signs of a particularly vicious headache coming.

"Em, you're losing me. What does his being a vampire change? I'll keep aging; and I'll die in a few decades anyway."

"Not if you join the club of undead queers, you won't," Emmett pointed out logically. "It's not so bad, really. Okay, sunbaths are out of the question, and the diet isn't very variable, but other than that, the two of us manage just fine."

Michael shook his head. "You're both nuts," he said.

"Nah, not really," Emmett replied breezily. "Think about the possibilities. Granted, the two of you've wasted fifteen years of potentially great sex. But you could have centuries to make up for it – and let me tell you, enhanced vampiric senses make the experience more intense than you could ever imagine."

"I'll take your word for that," Michael said dryly. "Somehow I don't feel the urge to become a blood-sucking fiend, though… no offence intended," he added hastily.

"None taken," Emmett replied with a shrug. "Everyone freaks out a bit at first – well, those who are given a choice, at least," there was a slight bitterness in his usually cheerful tone when he said that. "But most people find the offer appealing, after having had time to think about it. The not getting older and not dying part more than makes up fort he lack of sunbathing and the liquid diet."

"But what if I decide against it, even after having thought about it long and hard?" Michael asked.

"It's your choice," Brian answered. "Nobody will force you to do anything; and we can still stay together for the rest of your life."

"Bri, we're not even together yet," Michael reminded him mildly.

"True," Brian agreed. "The question is: do you want us to be together? Now that you know what I've become?"

For a very long time, Michael didn't answer. The other two didn't pressure him. This wasn't an easy decision for anyone; it wasn't easy for a mortal to live with a vampire… or to follow him to the night.

"I don't want to lose you, Bri," Michael finally said. "But don't expect any long-time decision from me just yet. Let's continue step by step and see what the future brings."

Brian released an unnecessary breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding.

"Works for me," he said, giddy with relief. "Little steps it is."

The End – for now