Submission

by Soledad

A "Pathways in the Dark" story

Part 20 of "The Toreador Chronicles". Follows "Triangle".

For disclaimer and background information see the Introduction.

Rating: 16+ just to be on the safe side.

Author's note: Just to avoid any misunderstandings: in the "Pathways" universe Cordelia has died. Angel's seer is now Alex Moreau of "Poltergeist – The Legacy". Owen Thurman is a BtVS character who only featured in the 1st Season episode "Don't Kill the Boy on the First Date". He and Brian met in Part 11 of this series, titled "Forging the Bond".

Summary: Michael is offered the chance to write another movie script, and Brian finally decides to take things into his own hand.

For the next couple of days Michael withdrew from his undead associates. He wasn't needed for that phase of the post-production work, and he'd already delivered the first draft for Rage II – The Black Widow to Edward Blount, so he could afford to take some much-needed time off to think about things. Sure, he still had to work on the plot sketch for the Dragonfly movie and the latest Rage issue also needed the final touches, but he didn't have to labour 7/24 to meet the deadline, and – for the first time in months – he actually did have a little time for himself.

He was glad he'd invited Emmett back to their shared apartment, because lonely brooding wasn't exactly his thing; it made him depressed. He needed someone to talk to, and Emmett was the ideal audience for that sort of thing. Sure, he was a vampire now, but save from a change of his diet (meaning switching to the liquid sort) Emmett hadn't changed so much.

The Becoming doesn't change who we are, only what we are, Phillipe had said (or something like that anyway), and Michael had to admit that, at least in Emmett's case, it was certainly true. Emmett was still the same colourful lovebird that he'd always been – only that now he was an undead lovebird. Still colourful, still easily excited, and still willing to help his friends wherever he could.

And he was still Michael's friend. A good and dear friend, who – though he didn't need to eat anymore – was happy to cook for Michael every other day. A friend, who, although he preferred chick flicks personally, willingly watched Japanese and Hong King fantasy/action movies with Michael, discussing the finer points of each one with him.

A friend who knew a great deal about the world of darkness, in which he lived now, and into which Michael was half-ready to make forays. Also – unlike Brian – he was capable of delivering the uncomfortable truth without being hurtful or insulting.

"Look sweetie," he said on the fourth day gently but firmly, "you need to make up your mind. At least they're giving you a chance," his bright smile dimmed for a moment; becoming a vampire by accident was something he still hadn't come to terms with, and he had the feeling he wouldn't for quite some time yet, despite having accommodated to his new existence fairly well, all things considered. "Besides, what's wrong having two men like Alain and Brian competing for your affections? I know many guys who'd give an arm for half the chance, you know."

He suppressed a pang of envy bravely. He loved Michael like a brother, but sometimes he also wished he would be wooed like that by at least one person. Nobody had done that since the death of George, the poor dear. His torrid affair with Teddy was a different thing – something he wouldn't want to experience again. It had been sick and hurtful in too many ways; he was glad that they could save their friendship in the end… well, most of it.

Perhaps Brian had been right after all. Perhaps one really shouldn't fuck one's best friend. Of course, Brian was just about to do his damnedest to break that cardinal rule of his, so…

"I know," Michael said ruefully, steering Emmett's easily distracted attention back to the topic. "And I know that I'm perhaps a selfish prick. It's just… If I accepted, it…"

"…would change your life forever?" Emmett finished for him with a raised eyebrow. "Newsflash, Michael: life is change. The only people who do not change are dead people."

"You mean undead?" Michael tried a lame joke.

"No," Emmett said, his tone uncharacteristically serious. "I mean dead people. Of the Final Death kind of dead, as we'd say. Even vampires change and grow with the time; perhaps not physically, but we do change… or so the Elders say. We change more slowly, of course, we can afford to take our time, but we do so, too."

"I'll have to take your word for it," Michael said, "but having to change isn't what bothers me about joining the Lost Boys anyway."

"So? What is it then?" Emmett clearly didn't have a clue.

"If I submit to Alain, if I became a member of his household, it would mean to accept that Brian will never be just mine," Michael said slowly.

"So what's new?" Emmett still didn't understand the problem. "You've known that for twenty years or so."

"Yes, but until recently the chance to have him at all was like, zero," Michael pointed out.

"And now that you've got the chance you're getting greedy?" Emmett asked.

"No," Michael replied. "Now that I've had him, I know that I won't be able to give that chance up, not even if it means that I'll have to give up what meant to be the Dynamic Duo – just him and me, and the rest of the world didn't count. It was a childish dream, perhaps, and it never was entirely true, but it fucking hurts to let it go. It has been the only thing I had for so long…"

"Oh, sweetie!" Emmett was all support and understanding in a second again. "Of course it hurts! I know what it's like… I only had George for a very short time, but it was something I'll probably never have again… something precious. But life goes on, honey, and so must we."

"Is it true, Em?" Michael asked in a childlike manner. "Would I really not care if I became one of you? Would I be able to think of him with someone else and not hurt anymore?"

"I can't tell, sweetie," Emmett replied honestly. "I never was the one-guy-for-life kind of person. But I do know that among Kindred the only thing that really counts isn't sex – it's Blood."

"It must suck for you, then… pardon the pun," Michael said.

Emmett shrugged. "Not really. Fostering works fairly well, and the Blounts consider me as close as Blood. They share frequently, too. I can't complain."

"Especially when a hunk like Edward Blount acts as your foster Sire," Michael grinned.

Emmett grinned back at him. "You're getting used to the terminology, I see. But you're right, of course; that does make the whole thing a lot more… palatable."

"You're incorrigible," Michael laughed. "Thank God, though; I wouldn't want you any other way."

"You want me?" Emmett treated him with a curiously raised eyebrow. Michael laughed and swatted him on the biceps.

"Not that way, you idiot! But it's good to have you around again, no matter what you've become in the meantime. You're still… well, you."

"I'm doing my best," Emmett replied in his best prima donna manner, "although it's a heavy burden, I'll tell you." And they both laughed.

Later, when Michael had left to discuss some finer points of the Dragonfly plot with Brett Keller, Emmett decided to give Brian a call. He could only reach the mailbox, but that didn't particularly bother him.

"Hi Bri," he said to the machine breezily. "I think I know how you can motivate Michael to… to see the light… pardon the pun. I suggest you ask some more… experienced fiend of the night about the importance of the One Vessel. Bye."

"The One Vessel?" Phillipe repeated slowly. "Who has told you about that?"

Brian shrugged. "Actually, it was Emmett. He called me, but my cell phone was turned off, so he spoke onto my mailbox. He suggested that I asked one of you older guys about it."

"I see," Phillipe said doubtfully, because a fledgling like Emmett wasn't supposed to know about such things yet, but that couldn't be helped now. All he could do was to set things straight in Brian's head, who, fortunately, was intelligent enough to understand the ramifications.

The lawyer stood, opened the door to his antechamber and said to his Kindred secretary, a beautiful, exotic Cuban woman who had the night shift. "Maria, Brian and I have something important to discuss. It won't take very long, I'll be able to realize my next appointment, but please redirect any calls to Henry for the next thirty minutes. Thanks."

He returned to his desk and sat again.

"You've probably already heard that some Kindred, especially older ones, can suffer from certain feeding restrictions," he began. "There are the ones like the Count, for example, who can no longer digest mortal blood, so they have to keep a herd of young vampires around them, on whom to feed. Others can only feed on mortals of specific age or gender… there are many such variables, particularly among us, Venture… alas."

"And what does that do with me?" Brian asked. "I'm neither old, nor a Ventrue… or a crazed Sabbat."

"I'm coming to that," Phillipe said. "Not all these feeding restrictions are involuntary. Sometimes a vampire chooses to feed from one person exclusively. This person is then called One Vessel or One Blood, and the bond between a Kindred and his or her One Vessel is the only known one closer than even the one between Sire and Childe… or that of regnant and thrall."

"You know that from personal experience?" Brian asked.

Phillipe shook his head. "Very few of us have ever entered a relationship like this. Because, you see, there is a great risk involved for the Kindred in question. If this symbiotic relationship goes on long enough, the vampire becomes incapable of feeding from any other source than from his or her One Vessel. Which means, should that person die, the vampire will die, too – slowly and very, very painfully. Starving isn't a pleasant way to go… unless one takes a walk in the sun when it becomes too much, that is."

"Why would anyone enter such a relationship, then?" Brian asked, shivering from the thought. Simple Thirst was bad enough, but starving to death… no, he wouldn't want that.

"Out of love, mostly," Phillipe replied. "Usually, the One Vessel is made a ghoul, so that he or she wouldn't age and die; or they get Embraced after a while. But even so, the dependence of the Kindred from their One Vessel makes them terribly vulnerable. An enemy could simply kill the One Vessel, without having to bother with fighting a strong and potentially dangerous vampire. That's why entering such a bond is the ultimate expression of trust and love from the side of the Kindred partner."

"And also the only way a vampire could be truly exclusive with a partner," Brian realized with a jolt. That was something he actually could do. He liked the Hunt, it was exciting and arousing, and the results most satisfying, but he could give that up for a greater good.

Phillipe nodded. "That's true. But if you're planning what I think you're planning, you should consider it very carefully. Should he ever find a reason to leave you, that would be your death sentence."

"That's okay," Brian replied with a shrug. "I wouldn't want a life… unlife… whatever… without him in it. Mortal or undead, he's always been my rock. I'd never have made it without him."

"Then you should consider this, too," Pierre said very seriously. "should word come out that he's your One Vessel, it would make him a target for all your enemies. Right now, you aren't important enough in the Kindred world to really endanger him, but one day you will. You're being groomed to become the Prince of Pittsburgh in a few decades – and if you move there, he'll have no other chance than follow you. He'll have to give up his own interests to serve yours. His entire life will have to focus on your fate… that's no small thing, especially now that he's finally found his true calling work-wise."

Brian remained silent for quite a while. "Does Michael know about this?" he finally asked.

Phillipe shrugged. "I'm not sure. Alain and I have discussed this possibility, shortly after Michael's arrival in LA, but I don't know whether he told Michael about it or not. I know he's interested to make Michael a ghoul at the very least, to preserve him for the bloodline, but I think the other thing is something you need to discuss with Michael personally."

"But if what you say it true, how could I ask of him such an enormous thing?" Brian asked.

"The step would be an enormous one for you as well," Phillipe pointed out. "You'd be taking a considerable risk, you know."

"He'd be worth it," Brian said, "but I don't want to endanger him."

"Brian, you're Kindred; a Camarilla vampire, at war with the Sabbat," Phillipe reminded him. "Simply knowing you endangers him in a manner. But ultimately, it's not your decision – it's his. I suggest you talk to him, because if you wait too long, it might be too late." He glanced at his wrist watch. "Well… if you'll excuse me, I have work to do. I'm expecting an important client within the next five minutes."

Michael delivered the first draft of the Dragonfly movie a day before the deadline, and was relieved to do so. Hong Kong cinema wasn't really his style – he couldn't wait to return to Rage again. Fortunately, both Vera Vignes and Brett Keller seemed to like the draft, and sated that there wouldn't be many changes needed in the final script. All that research concerning Japanese culture and legends had paid off, after all… and having Internet wizard Diego helping him a real asset. Michael, too, was happy with the results.

"Do you have a moment?" Brett asked, after they'd left Vera's office. "I want to pitch a story with you. Dawn gave me a horror story that could work as the basis for the third Rage movie… a very different one this time."

"For Christssake, Brett!" Michael laughed. "We haven't even finished the first move yet, are shooting the sequel already… well, sort of… and you want me to start on a third one? Isn't that a bit early?"

Brent shrugged. "That's how Peter Jackson filmed the LOTR trilogy, and it worked out well enough, didn't it? Now I'm not planning anything quite that epic, but it doesn't hurt to have another script ready, just in case. You write it, you get paid for it, and we'll see if and when it actually gets filmed."

It was Michael's turn to shrug now. "If you find someone stupid enough to pay for it, I'm game. Let me take a look at that draft."

They went to Brent's office, and the Brujah director handed Michael a thin booklet, with the picture of some nondescript pyramid on its cover. The pyramid was richly decorated with human skulls, and in the inside, there was a naked figure tied to a stone altar. The title said "The Sacrifice by Owen Thurman".

"I thought it was a draft or a plot sketch, not a printed story," Michael said in surprise. "What's it about?"

"A clueless young man getting into the clutches of some weird cult and nearly getting sacrificed to a demon in the old-fashioned Mayan manner… you know, cutting out his heart… that sort of thing," Brett replied. "Dawn says she could add visuals that would make the people bite their nails and wet themselves with fear in the movie theatres. I think she knows the author or something. But it's decently written for a new author, and if we could make the basic story part of the Rage universe somehow…"

"The Rage universe," Michael repeated with a broad grin. "I like the sound of that, you know. Well, perhaps we could twist the first movie a little, so that people would be left uncertain about the fate of The Thrall – we can use the already filmed death scene later – so that he'd supposedly recover in a secret lair for a while. Then he could gather a cult around him and try to bring Shadow back, using human sacrifices."

Brett stared at him his mouth literally hanging open. "You never cease to amaze me," he said when he could speak again. "How do you do it?"

"How do I do what?" Michael asked, grinning. "Amaze you? I'm not really sure. Perhaps you're just easily impressed?"

"I didn't mean that," Brett said, although he was laughing, too. "I meant how can you come up with all these ideas at a whim of the heart?"

Michael shrugged. "It's how I always work. Sometimes I have a hard time to write down all my ideas before I'd forget them." He grinned at Brett. "Well, if I accept Alain's offer, time wouldn't be the problem anymore, I guess."

Brett nodded. "I thought he'd want to Embrace you, sooner or later. Even if he wouldn't have Brian to consider, you'd be a real asset for Clan Toreador."

"Hey, slow down!" Michael laughed, although he had to admit that he was absurdly pleased by that comment. We're not quite there… and we won't be for a while yet. We're still talking about the smaller step… the lesser evil, if you want to put it that way."

"I don't," Brett replied, clearly amused, "but you apparently do. Well, that makes sense. Making you a ghoul would give you the time to consider whether you want to become a Kindred eventually or not. It would keep you from aging and in touch with Kindred society."

"I dunno if it's really such a good idea," Michael said uncertainly. "I mean, wouldn't that make me a second class member of Alain's family? I mean, he does have Childer and foster Childer left and right, who're all proper vampires…"

"Kindred," Brett corrected. "Get used to the proper vocabulary; it can mean life or death when dealing with our kind. The Prince wouldn't care, but your own Elders could react… unpleasantly to being called vampires. That word is associated too closely with Sabbat monsters for their comfort, and they tend to be… vengeful."

"Even the ones like Vera Vignes?" Michael asked.

"Especially the ones like Vera Vignes," Brett emphasized. "They're old and wealthy and influential and well-respected, both in Kindred and mortal society. They don't want to be reminded that in the depths of their undead hearts they, too, are bloodsucking monsters. As Archon Raine, the late Prince of San Francisco used to state: Monsters we are, less monsters we shall become."

"And is that true?" Michael asked doubtfully.

Brett shrugged. "That's the declared goal of the Camarilla, especially the Ventrue among us; but they've always been hypocrites, so you shouldn't always believe everything they say. However, you needn't to worry about your possible place within Alain's family. Childer might have a higher rank in the official Kindred hierarchy, but status is a different matter entirely."

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean," Michael admitted.

"Let me show you an example," Brett said. "Angelus – our current Prince – has got Childer left and right, as you've so eloquently put. Some of these are his own Enforcers and the Archon of his House. Some of them have been with him for more than a century, and some are of utmost importance for the fight against the Sabbat. And yet the most important person of his household is not any of those old and powerful Kindred, but his personal ghoul: a brave and intelligent woman of great beauty who possesses what we call the second Sight – she's a seer as well as a scientist. The Prince loves her very much, and they are soul-bound in a manner that is rare among our kind."

"But they are…" Michael hesitated. "They're not exclusive, are they?"

Brett shook his head. "The Prince can't afford to be exclusive with anyone… or to feed from one source exclusively. That would endanger both him and his partner beyond reason. Besides, his Childer need his attention… or his control. But the Prince is always a special case anyway." He glanced at the calendar on his desk. "I'm sorry, Michael, but I have to go now. Would you mind giving this horror story a closer look and sketch me up a skeleton plot? I'd really like to se if we can use it for a Rage movie… and how."

Michael promised to do so, and Brett let him go, with the thin booklet under his arm and a lot to think about in his head.

Michael used the next couple of relatively calm days to read the story – and he was morbidly fascinated by it. Whoever this Owen Thurman might be, Michael had the uncomfortable feeling that he knew what he was writing about – from first-hand experience. The description of the victim's terror and suffering was too intense, too… personal to be merely the figment of somebody's vivid imagination.

I need to meet this guy, close up and personal, if we want to make the movie credible, Michael thought, working on the first sketch of a possible plot that would fit neatly into the "Rage universe", as Brett had called it.

Michael still loved the sound of that; loved it more with each passing day, truth be told. It meant that Rage – just like Superman, Batman, Captain Astro and the others – had become a fandom of its own, with a wide and active fanbase; that it now occupied its permanent little corner in the great and complex world of comics. A little corner that was expanding steadily under the expert hands of Hollywood moviemakers and earned him bucks he had never dreamed of.

It was a pleasant thought that gave Michael great satisfaction. Everybody had always belittled and patronized him for his "childish" love for comic books: his own mother, David, Ben, his friends, sometimes even Brian. And now it had been proven that he wasn't just a little loser geek with a weird hobby. He had made a career none of the others could expect to come even close to, and it had made him rich beyond their imagination.

Apparently, there were more geeks out there than even he would have believed. Geeks who just happened to love Rage.

He laughed quietly when the doorbell rang and he went to answer it. Probably Em, having forgotten his keys again, he thought fondly. It seemed that becoming a vampire – Kindred, he corrected himself mentally – had not helped with Emmett's short-time memory (or the complete lack of it) at all.

But it wasn't Emmett who was standing on their doorstep. It was Brian, looking every bit as gorgeous as always, wearing designer sunglasses to his casual clothes, to protect his sensitised eyes against the sunlight. Being undead did have its disadvantages when it came to the little pleasures of mortal existence.

"Of all bloodsuckers, only Emmett would be crazy enough to move into an apartment on the beach," he commented crankily. "Trust him to find the least vampire-friendly environment possible. Sometimes I really think he has a death wish… or he is completely nuts. Not that the two things would be mutually exclusive, of course," he added.

"It's nice to see you, too, Bri," Michael replied patiently. "Have you come to discuss Emmett's mental state with me?"

"Do I seem to be in a suicide mood?" Brian riposted, waltzing into the hall without waiting for an invitation. There had never been need for such things between the two of them. "I came because we need to talk, Mikey."

"We do?" Michael tried to fake surprise and failed miserably, which earned him a derisive snort from his best friend. They knew each other too well to be fooled by any sort of pretence.

But Brian didn't seem to be in a great hurry to breach the real topic. Instead, he picked up the booklet with the horror story and leafed through it with interest.

"So, Owen has chosen to deal with the trauma in a creative manner," he said. "Well, it's not surprising, I suppose. He's an English major, after all; literature is what he does for a living… or will do so, once he's graduated."

"You know the author?" Michael asked, his surprise genuine this time.

Brian nodded. "I'd met him before… before I joined the Lost Boys. He's a Childe of Angelus, our Prince. He was Embraced out of necessity, on the very brink of death. Things are still not that easy for him, due to his hurried and somewhat unorthodox Embrace. Too bad; he's a nice guy, actually, and intelligent, too."

"You mean," Michael said slowly, "that this isn't just a story?"

Brian shook his head. "Oh, no. He very nearly ended up as human sacrifice, and they are still trying to flush all that ceremonial poison out of his systems. Don't ask me how… I don't know and I don't even want to know."

"I suspected so much," Michael murmured. "The descriptions are just too realistic to be mere fantasy."

"No, they aren't," Brian said. "I'm told the poor guy is still suffers horrible pain at irregular intervals. Who gave you the story anyway?"

"Brett," Michael answered with a shrug. "Apparently, he got it from Dawn Cavanaugh, and he wants to use the basic plot for a third Rage movie."

"A third movie?" Brian repeated with a frown.

Michael nodded. "In which Shadow probably returns. Due to the human sacrifices his followers offer him. Oh, we'll have to make quite a few changes, but if the author is willing, we can make a good story out of it."

"It could work," Brian agreed. "Although it wouldn't hurt to see how the first movie does in the theatres before filming several sequels."

Michael shrugged again. "Vera and Brett want to do this, and I get paid for the script anyway, even if it's going to collect dust in some drawer for years, so it's their risk."

"True enough," Brian replied. "And I'm sure you'll give them a great script."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Michael said sternly. "Stop obfuscating, Bri. It's not like you, not usually. So, why don't we make ourselves comfortable, so that you can tell me why you're really here?"

"It's not that easy," Brian replied, visibly nervous… which was another first between the two of them, and it made Michael scared. Very scared.

"You have changed your mind about the two of us, haven't you?" he said, defeated. It was to expect. He'd hesitated too long to make up his mind.

But Brian shook his head.

"On the contrary, Mikey" he said. "To tell the truth, I'm here to… to propose. I just don't know how to do it properly."

TBC