A/N:Oh, look, a rather quick update. Yeah, I guess I've got the bug for this fic back. Maybe I'll even get it finished!
Two weeks after the demon hunt, and Robin hadn't exactly brought up the incident with Vlad. Well, how could he even begin to approach it? 'So, I noticed you didn't use your fangs there, and holy crap, I'm actually kind of terrified of you now'? It wasn't exactly the type of thing he could openly say to him. Unless they were both very, very drunk, and that was hard to do with Vlad, what with vampires naturally high alcohol tolerance. Okay, okay, so Robin knew he was really just making excuses to avoid the topic, but … it did scare him, and just how much it scared him managed to scare him even further. If he brought up that fear, Vlad might try to do something stupid, something noble. Robin couldn't face that. Not now.
Of course, his reluctance to approach the subject wasn't helped by the fact that for the past few days, both Barry and Jack had been running high temperature, and making claims of general discomfort.
"My head hurts," Jack had whined, curling into Robin's arm as if it could cure the headache. Robin placed a hand against Jack's forehead to find him warmer than usual, and Vlad stood impassive in the room. "An' my throat feels all scratchy," the small boy added, whimpering a little and clutching at his favoured Batman plush. He pulled his blanket over himself, shivering.
"Vlad," Barry croaked over at his brother, "Vlad, the room's all … spinning," he said. Vlad moved over, copying Robin's earlier action. "S'cold in here," Barry said, though Vlad's check proved him to be, like Jack was, warmer than usual. "An' I feel all... all..." he paused, and sneezed. Once, twice, three times in a row. He shivered and then on the fourth sneeze, he transformed into his wolf form. Which was really more like a very fluffy puppy, but he was only young. Another sneeze brought him out of it. "...Ow," he whimpered.
They had gotten them both to lie down, Vlad zipping out and back to the room in less time than it took Robin to blink to bring a pitcher of cold water. "It'll be okay," he told them. "You two have a nap. Robin and I will go and get something to make you better." Robin momentarily considered it was probably a good thing that he had long since learnt that Vlad would never ask about bringing him along, but just expected him to follow. It was a good thing, actually, not probably. It meant Vlad wanted him around, and right now, that was the type of thing Robin needed to keep hold of, to keep the darker thoughts at bay.
"Can shifters even catch the cold?" Robin asked, as they browsed the medicine aisle at the local supermarket, trying to find child-friendly cold medications Or at least something that they were more likely to get Barry and Jack to take without too much of a fuss. Vlad shrugged his shoulders, frowning at a brightly coloured box with crude cartoon figures on it. He put the box back on the shelf, and drove his hands into his pockets, irritation clear on his face. Robin sighed, and gave the shelves another hopeless glance. He really didn't think there would be anything here. "What about natural remedies?"
"What?" Vlad snapped, then frowned. "Natural remedies? You mean, like Renfield's potions?" Robin shuddered.
"Not exactly like Renfield's potions," he said very quickly. "But you've got the general gist of things." He waved a hand vaguely at the shelves. "I don't really think any of these are developed for kids that are part vampire, part shifter. It's not really a market the breather medicine providers have looked into catering for." He paused, and a thoughtful look came on his face. "Though, if you ever 'came out of the coffin', they'd probably make a killing..."
"You need to stop watching HBO," Vlad remarked. He rubbed the back of his neck, and for a moment Robin thought he looked far older than the 21 year old he knew his friend was. "I guess it's worth an idea. You get back, see how they're doing, and I'll call Ingrid," he instructed, digging in his trouser pocket for his phone. It was pulled out after a minute. "She actually paid attention to our Potions tutor, so she's got more chance than I have."
"She'll stake you for letting them get sick," Robin commented.
"More trained people have tried," Vlad didn't look up from his phone, scrolling through the contacts to find Ingrid's most recent phone number.
"None of them were your sister," Robin grinned, and Vlad couldn't stop the laugh that came. "You make the call, I'm going to pick up some milk and stuff. I'll see if I can find a comic for each of them, take their mind of the pain for a couple of minutes," he called over his shoulder, moving to the comics section of the store.
"Sure," Vlad replied. He moved to the front door, providing him with far stronger signal strength, and hit the call button on his phone. It took a while – 13 rings – before Ingrid picked up. "Hey, Ingrid, it's me."
"I was wondering when I'd hear from you," Ingrid was as gracious as ever, clearly glad to hear from him, Vlad thought with a wry grin. "I expect you've heard the news? Couldn't believe it when I heard, but I always did think there was something rotten in the wrong way about that girl." She paused for a half second. "I'll expect you'll need to cull the whole bloodline, but what else can be done? Traitors, the lot of them."
"Ingrid, what?" Vlad's earlier frown at the boxes was nothing compared to the one he wore now. "What news?" he demanded. "I've heard nothing, the Council are being pricks at the moment. I'm thinking of decimating it, but can't decide if random would be best or planned to get rid of the ones who just piss me off," he added conversationally. "So, what news?"
"About the Slayer attack at my wedding," there was anger in Ingrid's tone, at Vlad's seemingly having forgotten. He hadn't, but it hadn't exactly been top on his list of priorities. "We found out who informed. You'll take the steps, of course?" It wasn't a question.
"You know I will," Vlad rolled his eyes. "Who was it?"
"Chloe Branagh," Ingrid replied. "Apparently she's been a Guild member for some time now." There was a commotion in the background at Ingrid's aide of the conversation, and she swore under her breath. "I'll call you back," she informed him, hanging up. Vlad stared the phone for a moment or two. He had misheard. He hadn't misheard
"Vlad?" Robin was back, having finished his shopping. "What's wrong?"