intro

I

A low, keening growl reverberated through the dark alley.

William admitted that, okay, it was possible that he had a bit of a problem here. He could deal with it, though.

Really, he could.

II

The boy was scrawny, at best. He was pale, freckled and the epitome of teenage awkwardness. Even better, he was all alone.

Too easy.

III

Fangs bared, body poised, ready to strike -

then there was blood, red hot and alive -

And then there was a whole lot of pain.

about three hundred and seventy days later

--

It's because of people like William that the government gives out monthly fun bags to vampires.

... Okay, calling it “fun bags” wasn't my idea, so you can stop raising that eyebrow at me. I'd rather call them blood bags, but whenever I do that, Lily starts making funny retching noises at me. (Funny as in disturbing, not funny as in “laughing my arse off”.) I'd have hit her if she hadn't been stronger than me.

Confused?

I suppose you would be. Long story short: Two years ago, I took a short cut and ended up dead. Well, dead-ish, really, but I'm not about to split hairs. So I suppose that if there was a moral to this story, it would be, “if your mates – all of them who are considerably more drunk than you – tell you about a short cut that will 'get you home right quick', chances are it won't.”

Of course, I've never been a fan of morals, so you can ignore that one, if you like.

--

Anyway, fun bags.

They're like the vampire version of a Happy Meal, except without a free toy. Otherwise, it's the same – you get just enough nutrition to avoid starvation, but half the time what you get isn't what it says it is. (Trust me, I've ended up hospitalised twice already because someone put too much horse blood in the mix. When the doctor came up to me and questioned me if I'd assaulted any horses lately ... God, I wanted to die.)

The reason we're getting them is because of people like William. I said that, didn't I?

Well, when William was alive, he was a very ... pro-life sort of fellow. You know, life is a precious gift given to us by God, taking it away from others is sin, that sort of thing.

And then he was turned into a vampire.

And then, silly bastard as he was, he tried to stay away from the whole blood drinking business.So he starved himself half to death, and on a soggy night in September, he completely lost it.

Which is why I'm here.

--

It's September again. The door I'm staring at looks just as shabby as it did last year, but it feels different. Less intimidating, maybe. I like to think that I'm getting on with my life.

I knock on the door, shifting slightly so that I can get a better grip on my peace offering. Last time I was here, I lost my temper a bit, and I don't want William to think that I'm coming back for more, or anything.

The lock snaps, and the door opens to reveal the bastard in all his glory. He gives me a long, dull look and sighs.

This is William: He has long, light blonde hair and grey eyes, and his face is ashen and pointy. The shadows under his eyes make him look like he's been using eye liner, and he's wearing all black, as usual. “Debonair” and “handsome” are words that could probably fit him if you squint, and he's definitely got the whole Gothic thing going.

He's also so depressed it's not even funny.

--

“Come in, then.” William's voice is rusty like the hinges of his door. He doesn't bother waiting for me to move, but hurries into the safeness of his living room, as if staying outside for too long will kill him. I follow him without saying anything, mostly because I can't think of anything to say.

William's apartment is as shabby as his door. It's dim-lit and worn out at the edges, and all the furniture looks slightly threadbare. Without a word, William points at the couch – an awful green-and-orange remnant of the seventies – and gestures for me to sit. Which I do.

“Coffee?” he asks, probably more out of habit than anything else.

“No thanks,” I mutter. William gives me a long, unsure sort of look, like he wonders when I'll blow up on him. There is a long, painful silence.

“I brought you a plant,” I say, bringing it up to his face. He stares at it, like he doesn't understand what he's supposed to do with it.

“What...?”

“It's a Japanese peace lily.” I wave it in front of him a bit, but it still looks like he can't figure out quite what he's seeing.

“Why did you bring me a peace lily?” William asks, and I wonder if he ever blinks.

I shrug. “It's so that you know that I'm not breaking your nose again. A peace lily seemed appropriate.”

At least my employer said so. She generally gives good advice, at least when she isn't trying to set me up with one of her sons, so I figured I'd go with it.

“You had every right to break my nose,” William says solemnly, “it was all my fault. I don't deserve -”

“If you keep it up, I might just repeat myself,” I mutter, and place the peace lily on the coffee table.

He ignores me, and continues in the same solemn tone. “I wish that I hadn't condemned you to this half-life as well, Adrian.”

“'S not that bad,” I say, “we even get a free dental plan.”

“We are unholy creatures of the Underworld!” William cries suddenly, slamming his fist on the table, and I jerk back in surprise.

“Watch the peace lily!” I yell. God, I wish he wasn't so bipolar.

“How can you be concerned about a bloody plant when we are headed for eternal damnation?”

I glare at him. “I paid for that “bloody plant”, you know.”

“You – how can you be so casual about this?” William's eyes are wide and bloodshot. I wonder if perhaps he should be taking medication.

“Look,” I say, trying not to be annoyed, “if we are headed for eternal damnation, the only thing we can do is to make the best of it.”

Or we can give up on life and do the whole “angsty vampire” routine. You know, whichever you think works best. (Of course, I don't say this, because even if I'm getting used to the whole vampire thing, I don't think I'm ready to antagonize the fellow who nearly bit my head off just yet.)

“The careless words of youthful ignorance.” William lets himself fall into the couch beside me. I resist the urge to roll my eyes.

“Are you calling me ignorant?”

His eyes meet mine again, and he grabs my hands, clutching at them like he's scared I'll disappear right in front of his eyes.

“Adrian.” William's lower lip trembles, and he tightens his grip on me. I wince, but I don't think he notices.

“Adrian,” he says again, and it's like it hurts him, “I'm sorry. You know that, right? You never deserved this. I'm sorry.”

Jesus Christ. I think my left eye is twitching. Gently, I pry his hands away from mine and get up.

“William,” I say, “it's not the end of the world.”

“It is!” William chokes back a sob, and it's just so pathetic to watch that it's impossible not to pity him. One last try, then. I lean over him and yank his head back by his hair. He whimpers, staring up at me in something that isn't exactly fear.

I snarl at him, trying not to feel self-conscious. “Look. I gave you a bloody peace lily, didn't I?”

“Y-yes.”

“I don't go around giving random people peace lilies.”

“Of course not,” William agrees frantically. I think he'd agree to anything right now, though, so I'm not about to read too much into it.

“Peace. Frigging. Lily.” There is a pause in which I bare my fangs for extra effect. “It's supposed to mean something.”

I let go of his hair, and he sinks back into his hideous green-and-orange couch, looking smaller and sadder than ever. Oh well. It's up to him now, I suppose.

“See you next year,” I say, and then I leave.

epilogue

It's September again. It's almost the same as last year, but at the same time, it isn't.

The room is still dim lit, and the couch is still hideous and green and orange. The peace lily is standing exactly where I left it.

But William is actually smiling, for once, and somehow, that makes all the difference.

---

Notes: Err. William isn't gay. Just thought I'd mention it, 'cos he really is being sort of questionable on that part. Then again, it might be me; I make everything gay. I watched The Matrix last night, and lo', it was gayer than Albus Dumbledore on acid. XD But William is REALLY NOT GAY. Especially not for Adrian, because it's sort of like incest, only it's mental incest instead of physical incest, and there's too much of it out there. (No offence to anyone out there in an incestous relationship, but it really doesn't float my boat at all.)

Anyway, this is Undead Alive backstory that I wrote some time ago. There is a really obvious Hot Fuzz reference here. Also, that hideous green and orange couch? Yeah, it belongs to my grandparents.