If pressed, Colin would admit that he was far more sentimental than the average energy vampire. It wasn't uncommon for energy vampires to ingratiate themselves within a group of humans or blood vampires, but it was rare for one to actually enjoy their company as more than a food source. Colin did view his roommates as more than food; they were ridiculous most of the time and never failed to get into trouble, but they had been his closest friends over the past century and he truly valued their time together.

Which is why he was now at the animal control center with Nandor, ready to free Laszlo from whatever cage he'd gotten himself locked up in. Even after Nandor's explanation of what happened, he wasn't sure how Laszlo had managed to get taken by the animal control workers in his bat form, but it was entertaining, nonetheless. This was what friends did. They hung out together and got each other out of jams. He couldn't remember the last time they'd rescued him from anything, but he wasn't as prone to ridiculousness as they were.

Even with nearly complete access to their feelings, he still couldn't tell how they viewed him. They weren't quite sure, either. Some days the camaraderie was apparent - like that night in the sitting room, when he'd blown his top about Joan. They'd just sat there with a patience only centuries of living could cultivate and offered words of encouragement. It was rare for him to be the center of attention, and even rarer for his roommates not to mind it. Looking back, maybe it should have disgusted him how understanding they were. Energy vampires thrived on irritation, not inspiration. But he was a sentimental vampire, and he still thought about that night and how nice it was to be reassured by his friends.

Some days his roommates seemed to almost hate him. Well, not hate. That was too strong a word. Dislike. They disliked his intentionally poor attempts at humor, his awkward timing, and his incessant need to drone on and on and on and on… He couldn't blame them for it, of course. It would be unrealistic to expect the people he drained to always enjoy his company. Or at all.

He remembered Joan's gray eyes staring into him as she said, "... I'm in good company. We can stop and appreciate the little things, can't we?"

Well, there were exceptions to every rule. Some people - one person - seemed determined to enjoy him.

Most days his roommates were indifferent to him. They tolerated his presence with some fuss, but he was always welcome on their adventures and their quiet nights inside whenever he chose to join them. He "came with the house," after all. It would be rude to blatantly reject the person whose house you were squatting in. Maybe he should have minded the fact that, at least initially, he was only allowed to join the group out of their own sense of obligation, but he didn't. He was lucky to have kept this friend group this long.

Typically, when an energy vampire was able to land a few roommates to drain, they overdid it. They would be too tempted by how easy and accessible it was and drain their roommates for all they were worth. Their roommates - either human or vampire - would leave since there would be no reason to tolerate such a parasitic relationship. But Colin was sentimental, and these were the first friends he'd ever made, and he was careful. He drained only a little from each conversation. Just enough to keep himself sated. He enjoyed draining them (Nadja's exasperation was especially delicious), but he wasn't a glutton and he wouldn't let his hunger ruin a good thing. All of the self-control he exerted when he spent time with Joan was proof enough of that.

Maybe if Laszlo had a little more self-control like him, or, even better, more sense, then he wouldn't be in this mess. That's not to say that Colin was unhappy with this development. He knew that once Nadja inevitably found out about this she would lord it over Laszlo's head for the next few decades or so. He could already taste her frustration, but that couldn't happen until they'd gotten him out of here.

He and Nandor were at the front doors of the animal control center. An invisible wall prevented them from entering. Neither of them bothered getting closer. Every vampire at some point in their life would inevitably try breaching the invisible wall that stood in every uninviting doorway. Any attempt to do it would come with an awful, cold sensation that shuddered through the rest of the body. NOT WELCOME, it said.

"Can we come in?" he and Nandor asked in unison.

The worker at the front desk looked at them, no doubt wondering why they bothered asking the question. "Yeah, come in."

Colin felt the invisible wall dissipate. They both meandered inside and tried to affect a casual air. Neither of them were good at it. Nandor was too out of place and Colin was too, well, him. He looked at the bulletin board on the wall, most of it littered with missing pet posters.

He pointed at one of the missing dog posters. "Isn't this the one that you ate last week?" he asked Nandor.

The utter offense Nandor felt was gratifying. "I didn't. I wouldn't."

Before Colin could tease him anymore, another animal control worker walked in. "They're not happy tonight, Bobby," she said.

The other worker - Bobby - looked up. "Yeah, what's up?"

"I brought in a bat. A little fella, you gotta see this guy. Look at his face." She pulled out her phone and showed him a picture as she chuckled.

Bobby smiled. "This guy looks like a little English guy."

"Yeah, he's a little British chap. Wait, wait, wait, let me blow him up there. You see something?"

Bobby's jaw dropped comically. "No way. That is a bat's erect penis on that screen."

Colin and Nandor shared a knowing look. "Laszlo," they said.

The two workers continued chattering about Laszlo. Colin heard them say something about giving him a rabies shot. He wasn't sure what a rabies shot would do to a vampire, but it probably wouldn't be good to find out.

Nandor approached the two with his hand outstretched, waving it around in what Colin assumed was an attempt at hypnosis.

Bobby and whatever-her-name-was ignored him, too engrossed in their own conversation about bats to notice him. Colin only paid attention to a few snippets of what they were saying. He heard "... more bats coming in lately" and "... wasn't hurt like the others." He thought he heard one of them mutter "wings completely torn through."

After a few seconds, Nandor dropped his arm in defeat.

"I don't think that worked," Colin supplied matter-of-factly.

"I know."

"Not so hot at hypnotism, huh?"

He could feel Nandor's irritation growing, swelled up and ready to blow. "I'm fine at hypnotism; it's just you can't hypnotize a subject that doesn't want to do something that you want them to do."

Just one more push and it'd send him over the edge. "If the only time you can hypnotize someone is when you have them do something they want to do, then it's not really hypnotism, is it?"

Nandor lost it. He hissed, irritation having turned into outright anger. Instinct took over and Colin faced the challenge, hissing back as he drained Nandor's fiery energy.

The two humans finally noticed them. It was a little hard to ignore two hissing men in the lobby.

"Wait a minute, can we help you guys?"

Colin snapped out of it. This was the human world. Humans did not hiss at people. Well, not the sane ones.

He casually replied, "Uh, yeah. We're actually looking for a lost pet."

They didn't mention the strange hissing, but they were disconcerted now. From the look in their eyes it seemed they thought that he and Nandor needed that rabies shot more than Laszlo did. The air was permeated with their apprehension. It was prickly and a little bit spicy, which paired well with Nandor's aggravation.

"What kind of pet is it?"

"A normal one," Nandor piped up, "Like, a bat."

"Oh, now, bats are illegal," the woman said, even more on edge now than she was before.

Colin stepped in."He said 'cat,' ma'am." Good save.

She was still a little skeptical, but didn't call him out. "Well, if you have any sort of missing animal, then you just need to fill out the required paperwork, and then we'll go have a look in the back for you."

"Fine." It was more than fine. Paperwork was practically the lifeblood of an energy vampire. It was common for energy vampires to choose careers centered around paperwork - DMV workers, tax preparers, mortgage brokers. Sweet, sweet bureaucracy.

Colin spent the next ten minutes filling out forms. There was no point to it, obviously, as they couldn't very well request to see a bat, but he filled out the forms with nonsense anyway. He pestered Bobby with questions about all the different kinds of paperwork they had. His eyes started to droop and Colin thought that maybe if he got him and the other lady unconscious, then they could just go back there and grab Laszlo themselves.

Nandor had been pacing the entire time Colin filled out paperwork and asked his questions. He had little patience for Colin's draining attempts on a good day, and today was not a good day. Eventually Nandor ran out of the room without an explanation. Colin thought he sensed a flash of inspiration from him - an idea - so he gave Bobby a break and followed Nandor out.

When he came out he could't find Nandor at first. He spun in a circle and saw no one, but then sensed Nandor's energy above him. He looked up and saw Nandor floating near the top of the building, scouring for a window. He watched on with little interest. He never understood the appeal of flying. Energy vampires could do it, but it expended a stupid amount of energy. There were hardly ever any occasions in an energy vampire's life that would justify flying, or doing anything that might expend energy rather than drain it.

Eventually, Nandor found an unlocked window. He briefly cheered at his own success and slipped inside. There were some frantic scuffling sounds from inside, then Nandor came back out, holding a bat delicately in his hands as he gently floated down to Colin.

"Laszlo, you are free now!" he announced with an almost childlike glee. "So be free!"

And then he threw the bat high into the air, but it made no attempt to fly. It just landed rather pathetically onto the asphalt with a small thud. It twitched a few moments in pain, then laid still.

Colin bent down to examine it just as Guillermo finally made his way to them on his bike. Colin had forgotten he'd been making his way to them. He was panting. "What happened?"

"Laszlo is being a lazy asshole!" Nandor said as he gestured to the bat on the ground, but Colin sensed the concern laced beneath the insult.

Colin pushed the bat on its side. It was still living, but its painful wheezes made it clear it'd be better to put this thing out of its misery. It didn't look anything like Laszlo - its fur was more brown than black, and it was a lot longer than Laszlo was. The bat's body was a mess, puncture wounds covering it nearly head to toe.

Colin clicked his tongue. "Yeah, I don't think this is Laszlo. Look at him, he was already way more fucked up than Laszlo was."

"Oh," Guillermo breathed. "That's sad, but good, right? Laszlo's still up there?"

They all looked back up at the open window. Nandor held himself a little higher, chest puffed up a little. Colin saw another burst of inspiration erupt around him.

"I have another idea," he announced. And then in a quick flash of black smoke, he turned into a dog and ran back toward animal control.

Guillermo looked at Colin, exhausted defeat written on his face. "This was, like, the third animal shelter I went to. And now Nandor's a dog."

Nandor scratched at the entrance doors of animal control until one of the workers let him in, who immediately put a leash around his neck. It was anyone's guess what Nandor's ultimate plan could have been, because it looked like he'd gotten himself captured on purpose. But that couldn't be the plan, could it? That would be so insanely stupid, far beneath the "great" Nandor the Relentless.

Colin shrugged. "You're the one who wanted to be a familiar. The job's not supposed to be all puppies and rainbows."

Guillermo's hands clenched. "No, I wanted to be a vampire. Instead it's all-" He threw his hands up. "-vampire dogs and sick bats!"

Guillermo rummaged around in his pockets until he pulled out his phone. "Fuck it, I'm calling Nadja. In the whole time it took me to get here you still haven't rescued Laszlo."

"In my defense, I wasn't trying very hard."

Guillermo called Nadja, aggressively dialing each button on his flip phone. He quickly explained the situation to Nadja as Colin made his way back inside, ignoring the pathetic whimpering from the little bat on the ground. In less than an hour, Nadja had arrived, who immediately hypnotized Bobby for the door code and freed Laszlo from his animal prison. She freed Nandor too, who had apparently gotten himself captured intentionally.

Nadja's anger was seething, radiating from her like heat off a stove. Colin was sure Laszlo was going to get burned, but with a few apologies and whispered promises from him, Nadja's anger had simmered down to a detached acceptance of the man she'd married. Colin was disappointed she hadn't maintained her anger, at least long enough for him to drain some of it, but Guillermo's frustration at his master was a fine substitute. He fed well tonight.

Once Laszlo and Nandor were freed - and the former had made his apologies - they all made their way out. They made it home before dawn, as they always did.

The little bat they'd left behind was not so lucky. They had no way of knowing it, but the next morning its body was nowhere to be found - merely a small clump of burning ash left in its place as night turned to day.

"So how was your weekend?"

They were in the breakroom. The rest of the room was empty, save for him and Joan. Occasionally other workers would filter in to grab coffee, but they kept their time there short. Avoiding him, he supposed.

Joan was leaning against the counter sipping her coffee as she waited for his answer.

He shrugged. "Same old, same old."

His weekends were typically filled with ridiculous misadventures with his roommates and last night hadn't been anything out of the ordinary, so it wasn't really a lie. He wondered how she'd react if he told her the truth - that he'd been at animal control trying to rescue his vampire roommate. Oh yeah, he had vampire roommates. And he was a vampire, too.

He'd been having more thoughts like that lately. Of what it might be like if he told her. It was ridiculous; his roommates must have been wearing off on him. He and Joan were work friends, sure, or "lunch buddies" as she would say. That didn't mean she was interested in the more personal aspects of his life. There would be nothing to gain if she knew. And that's assuming she would believe him or, even more amazingly, wasn't horrified at it.

When Guillermo had first become Nandor's familiar and moved in, Colin had introduced himself and given a very long-winded explanation of what an energy vampire was. Guillermo hadn't taken him seriously.

"Okay, but, it's not like an energy vampire is an actual vampire. They're just people that are really draining to be around. I mean, look at you, I'm supposed to think you're a vampire?"

Colin didn't appreciate being doubted. He was just as much of a vampire as the bloodsuckers he lived with. Hell, they couldn't even walk out in the sun without getting fried, so in his opinion he was a vampire and then some. So he continued to explain how energy vampires operated for the next ten minutes, draining Guillermo of his boredom until his legs gave out under him. Guillermo never questioned his status as a vampire ever again.

So if, for some unfathomable reason, Colin decided he'd tell Joan the truth about what he was, he knew how it'd go.

He'd do it on one of their lunches, that way she'd already be sitting down. "I've got to tell you something important." He'd pause. Then when he finally found his voice he'd say, "I'm an energy vampire."

He could imagine her doubtful expression easily. "Maybe to the rest of the office, but not to me."

"No, I mean I'm literally a vampire. I drain people's energy."

"Then how come you don't drain me?"

"I don't know. You're different. I've tried to, but I can't."

And then she'd probably just smile as she always seemed to be doing and say, "Then I guess you're not much of an energy vampire, hmm?"

Then maybe he'd do something drastic, like make his eyes glow or show her his reflection. Really make her look at it, at that half-dead looking thing that greeted him in the mirror every morning. She'd have to believe after that.

Then she'd panic. Or freeze. Because supernatural creatures are not supposed to be real and they are not supposed to go to work everyday like they're normal and they are especially not supposed to become someone's "lunch buddy." And he'd have ruined everything for… what, exactly? Why in the world would he ever tell her?

There was that furrow between her eyebrows again. He didn't like it. "Colin? Where'd you go?"

Right. How was his weekend? Same old, same old. "Sorry. How was yours?"

She shrugged and set down her mug. "It was fine. Went to the gym, worked out a little. Read some books."

He sensed she wasn't being entirely truthful again. Her energy wobbled when she'd said she went to the gym, but stilled when she said she worked out and read books. She'd been telling a lot more half-truths lately, but he didn't mind it. Humans told half-truths and white lies all the time. Hell, he'd done it when she'd asked about his weekend, too.

"What did you read?" he asked as he took a sip from his mug. He frowned. The coffee tasted like coffee. Nothing more. Usually when he drank from the cup Joan had given him, coffee tasted like her. It was supposed to taste warm and mildly cheerful, but now it just tasted like shit. The mug must have lost its essence. Humans left pieces of themselves everywhere, but that didn't mean those pieces stuck around. All energy faded away eventually.

"Oh, uh, I read…" She watched him scrunch his nose up at his coffee. "What is it? You look like you sucked on a lemon."

"Nothing. The coffee doesn't taste right."

"Hmm. It tastes fine to me."

He wanted the mug to be a piece of her again, instead of this plain inanimate thing in his hand. All she'd have to do is hold it awhile. Maybe he could switch their mugs at some point and she'd end up drinking from his. They looked the same, the only difference being the text his had on one side, so it wouldn't be too hard to accomplish.

He'd already had a half-formulated plan on switching their mugs before their other coworkers started filing into the break room. Kim had a sheet cake with her, Joe had streamers, and Mary had a plastic tablecloth in her hand.

Joan looked to Colin for an explanation. "What's happening?" He shrugged.

Joe snorted. "See, I told you nobody reads the office newsletter but you, Kim."

Kim huffed. "It is Rob's birthday today and we're throwing a little party for him. You're welcome to join. Even though you didn't contribute to the birthday fund." She muttered the last part.

Joan started helping the others decorate the room. Or rather, she tried. Kim and Mary, for reasons he could not discern seemed … bothered by her presence. Joan offered to help Mary lay out the tablecloth, but Mary rejected the offer, saying "No, no, I'm fine, thank you." She kept her distance from Joan, even as she struggled to lay out the whole tablecloth by herself. Something similar happened with Kim. Joan started laying out paper plates and napkins and Kim kept stepping away from her, maintaining at least a few feet of distance at all times. Colin didn't sense an intentional desire to push her away, but they were doing it, nonetheless. Only Joe seemed to welcome her, letting her help put up the streamers with him around the room. Colin was baffled.

Not baffled enough to stop him from dumping his mug of coffee, refilling it with the fresh stuff, and switching their mugs, though.

The rest of the office started filling up the room. Once everyone was in, George gave a little speech, complimenting Rob's work, saying how much he was appreciated, etc, etc. The second George stopped talking, a line began forming for the cake. Colin cut to the front of the line, which pissed off Rob and everyone behind him deliciously.

He cut himself a corner slice and set it on a plate. He didn't intend to actually eat the cake, of course, but it was the perfect excuse to obnoxiously chew as loud as he could. He turned to get out of the line, but saw Joan, tragically standing at the end of it. The people in front of her were also maintaining their distance from her. Colin cut out another slice and set it on a separate plate.

"You can't get seconds before everyone else gets one, Colin," Rob said.

"No, just grabbing one for Joan," he responded, not sure why he felt like justifying himself.

Rob rolled his eyes. "Of course, gotta take care of your work wife." He scoffed and went to cut himself a slice as Colin blanked.

Work wife. He said work wife. Is that what she was? Did everybody else think that?

He thought about their lunches, their email chains, the rides home she sometimes gave him when the weather was bad. They left the building together every day side by side. She always sat next to him during the office meetings. They'd even started spending breaks together too, like just before the party started. Rob had noticed? Had the others? Is that why they all kept their distance from her? Her association with him?

He looked at her, patiently standing at the end of the line, unbothered. Their eyes met and she smiled, a halo of glowing warmth softly circling around her.

Shit, Rob was right.

Colin swallowed the lump in his throat and walked over to her, handing her the plate with the corner piece.

"Oh!" She lit up. "Thank you. Do you want to eat these here or at your desk?"

She hadn't even asked if he wanted them to eat together. She'd just assumed he did. Of course she did. He was her work husband, apparently.

"My, uh, my desk."

She nodded and made her way out of the crowded breakroom. She stopped to grab her mug of coffee first. To his satisfaction, she grabbed the wrong one.

He went ahead and grabbed her actual mug, the one she left behind, intending to swap the mugs again later. It felt how he knew it would - warm and welcoming. But he didn't want to keep her mug; he wanted his gift to be the one with her energy wrapped up in it.

When he reached his cubicle, Joan was there, leaning against his desk as she ate her slice of cake. He took his seat and set his own plate down. There was no point to him having the cake now. There was no one else around him but Joan. No one to annoy with his aggressive chewing.

"Do they usually throw birthday parties here or is Rob a special case?"

He leaned back in his chair, settling his hands across his stomach. "Depends on the person. Usually if you've been here at least a year they throw one for you, unless you really don't want it, like Derek. Although I remember Kim got real upset when they didn't throw her a party. She'd only been here a month."

Joan drank coffee from her mug - his mug. The text on it was facing away from her, so she remained oblivious. "Seems kind of silly to care so much about an office party. Do they usually throw one for you?"

He blinked once. "I… I don't think they know when my birthday is, actually."

She frowned and there it was again, that sympathy she always seemed to hold for him. It infected the air between them. "Well, when is it? I'll tell Kim to add it to the newsletter."

He imagined his coworkers being forced to throw a birthday party for him, completely at his mercy. "October 21st."

She nodded once and set down her mug. The mug's text now faced her. "Okay, I'll remember that and get Kim - oh, shit, I think this is your mug, actually."

He feigned mild surprise. "Whoops."

"Here, I can dump this and clean it out," she said as she went to grab the mug.

"Don't worry about it, just give it back when you're done. We'll swap back," he said, lifting his mug - her mug - into the air.

"You're sure?"

He nodded. She smiled and started eating her cake again. Even without holding it, he could tell his plan had worked - his gift was now practically teeming with her energy. It buzzed pleasantly, like it was almost … happy to have been graced with her presence again. Not like his coworkers, who seemed put off by her. Was that really his fault? Guilt by association?

"Joan …," he started, "I was talking to Rob earlier and he said something kind of weird."

One of her brows raised in interest as she finished off her slice.

"He called you my, uh- well, it's kind of funny, actually - he called you my, my work wife."

She didn't say anything, waiting for him to continue, but he had nothing more to say. He expected her to laugh or cringe, but it never happened.

"Oh, is that it?" She set down her empty plate. "I don't see what's so weird about that. We're friends, aren't we?"

It was stupid how glad he was to hear her finally say it out loud. He tried to tamp that down. He was an energy vampire, for god's sake, he was not supposed to get this excited about a human calling him a friend, regardless of how miraculous it was.

"Well, yeah, but …"

She kept staring into him, her perplexed emotions popping around him. She genuinely didn't grasp the magnitude of what had happened here. How could she? She didn't know what he was. How unnatural it was for someone like him to have a work friend, let alone a work wife. There was that urge again, to tell her the truth about him. Just to make her understand how strange this all was. He bit his tongue.

"... but you've never had a work wife before, and you're uncomfortable?" she finished. Her eyes widened. "Wait, you're not in a relationship, are you? Because if you are I completely understand and I can tell Rob and everyone else to knock it off-"

"No, no," he hurriedly corrected, "I just thought you might not like it."

"Oh." Suddenly her eyes refused to meet his. He saw bashfulness creep around her. It was tingly and fuzzy and not something he'd ever seen on her before. "... I do, though."

"O-Oh," he shakily said. "Uh, good. No need to harass Rob, then. Not that I'd stop you if you wanted to do that anyway."

She laughed a little, the bashfulness dissipating. He considered bringing up the fact that everyone in the office - save Joe, for some reason - seemed to be uncomfortable being near her. Did she know that was his fault? Did he even want her to make that connection?

He chose not to say anything. He knew it would ruin the moment and the floating cloud of her happiness would disappear. It was strange - he still didn't like seeing her happiness, not straight on - but it was far better than the alternative. Her sadness was always a bummer.

She started eyeing his untouched slice of cake. He waited for her to ask for it, but she never did. He pushed the plate toward her. "I'm not hungry. You take it."

She didn't fight him on it like he expected her to. She smiled and took the cake gladly. "Still 'fasting,' huh?"

"Yup." With her, he practically was. He gained no energy from being with her. On the contrary, it was exhausting having conversations with someone he couldn't (and wouldn't) drain.

It still felt worth it, though. Because as much as he didn't want to admit it, he really was a sentimental vampire. A normal energy vampire would not make a friend they couldn't drain, or have a preferred mug simply because it felt like someone else, or freely offer a slice of cake to someone since they had no use for it.

He'd seen other, more normal energy vampires stagnate. They grew too comfortable in their chosen careers or living situations and were complacent. So satisfied and unwilling to try anything new, they'd lose touch with the times and their ability to drain at all. Then they'd fade away into nothing, starved to death.

That would never be him. He'd kept his roommates for decades - an energy vampire record - and could always drain them whenever he needed. He switched jobs every five years or so, just to be sure he wasn't getting too dependent on one group of people to drain. He was better than normal. He was adaptable.

And so was she. He'd learned a lot about her since they'd first met. She switched jobs every year or so, never content to stay in one place for too long. Every week she seemed to come in with new injuries (bandaids on her arms, a limp in her step, bruises on her collarbone), but she never acknowledged it or let it affect her mood. She had lots of different hobbies: researching history, collecting and selling antiques, and looking after her plants. She only kept low-maintenance plants, saying she didn't have the time for anything more serious than that. Always ready to pack up and leave.

He didn't like thinking about her leaving, so he didn't. Instead he offered to get her another cup of coffee - in the correct mug, this time - and made his way to the breakroom. He took a detour to her desk and slipped Biff's picture of Chestnut in his back pocket. He doubted she'd miss it. He knew a better place to put it, anyway.