Dead Or Alive

Alec took a deep breath, pressing the stake harder and harder against Jon's chest until… The pressure eased.

Jon sucked in a shaky breath, opening his eyes in time to see a piece of pointed wood fall from Richie’s nerveless fingers as the guitarist pitched forward in a dead faint. Jon caught him before he hit the floor, laying him down on his back, sitting beside him, waiting for him to come around.

Richie moaned, his eyes flickering open. “Jon?”

Jon sprung to his feet, turning his back on Richie. He wrapped his arms around his stomach, forehead resting on the cold brick wall. Neither of them spoke, Jon’s harsh breathing the only sound in the otherwise silent warehouse.

Richie slowly sat up, knees to his chest, back against the wall, sitting next to Jon. “You…. You’re a… a… And… and Al… Alec, he’s a… was a... a…”

“Vampire,” Jon supplied softly. “The word you’re looking for is ‘vampire’”

“V… V… V… Va… Va… Vam… Vampire?” Richie echoed. “Oh. How… how long. I mean, how… how old a…are you?” He needed to know, curiosity coming to the fore.

“350. Give or take.”

“Oh. And… And Al… Alec?”

“I don’t know. 5, maybe 600, I guess.”

“Oh.” Richie looked up at Jon’s back. “You two known each… each other long?”

“Yeah. He made me.” Jon sighed, lifting his head up from the wall, staring at the ceiling. “I’m sorry, Rich. I didn’t mean for you to find out, not like this.”

“Were you ever going to tell me? Any of us?”

“Probably not,” Jon admitted. “It’s not the sort of thing you can just blurt out. ‘Oh, and by the way, guys. I probably should have told you this 20 years ago, I’m like a 350 year old vampire.” He laughed dryly, punching the wall.

“OK, yeah…” Richie agreed with Jon. “What… What happened? Between you and Alec, I mean.”

“We fell out in the early 1800’s. Vampires… we’re solitary by nature, generally don’t spend much time with others of our kind. Me and Alec, we’d been together, in all meanings of the word, for something like 140 years and… it was too much. We fell out. I left him, came to America. Didn’t see him again until the early 1980’s. It turned out we had something in common again; the band. We tried to put our differences aside, but…”

“But you couldn’t stand being near each other

“Exactly. To start with things were great, y’know? It was just like in the olden days; we hunted, we drank, we fucked… but then…” He laughed and shook his head. “We fought and I won, so he left.”

“What would have happened if Alec had won?” Richie was fairly sure he knew the answer, but had to ask anyway.

“I would have left.”

Richie nodded; he thought so. He shifted on the floor, ass getting numb from sitting on the cold concrete. “Jon, look at me. Please?”

“No, Richie… I don’t… I don’t want you seeing me like this. And I can’t…”

“Well, sit down at least? I’m getting a stiff neck looking up at you.” Jon sighed, but sat down next to Richie, chin against his chest so Richie couldn’t see his face. “Alec said something about me being ‘marked’,” Richie continued. “What… What did he mean?”

“Umm…” Jon took a deep breath before replying. “When a… a vampire cares for a human, he can ‘mark’ the human for protection against other vampires. It’s not a physical mark more a… a scent or a taste. I’m not exactly sure how it works.” He laughed softly. “I suppose it’s a bit like a cat pissing to mark its territory.”

Richie felt a slow smile tugging at his lips. “You… You care for me?”

“Of course I do. You’re one of my best friends…” Jon trailed off, glancing at the grin on Richie’s face. He had a feeling…

“And what about Dave, Tico and Hugh? Did you mark them?”

“N… No. No, I didn’t. But I knew that if Alec came back he’d go after you because of how close we are.” Another sideways glance showed Richie’s grin had grown even broader.

Richie turned to face Jon. He reached out, lifting Jon’s chin up, forcing him to look at him. Jon whimpered and tried to pull away, but Richie wouldn’t let him.

“You’re not the only one who cares,” Richie whispered, his fingers tracing the ridges of Jon’s brow. Jon tensed as Richie’s thumbs trailed down his nose, before cupping his face in both hands. Richie leaned forward and kissed Jon softly on the lips. He pulled back, searching Jon’s eyes.

“Oh.” Jon mumbled quietly. Swallowing heavily, he kissed Richie back, cold lips brushing over the palm of Richie’s hand. His face contorted, he scrabbled backwards, growling under his breath.

“Jon? What is it? What did I…”

“Get out of here, Richie. Now” Jon was breathing heavily, a note of desperation in his voice.

“What?” Richie slowly pulled himself to his feet. “Jon…”

“Richie, please…” Jon sobbed, as Richie got closer to him. “All I can smell is your blood, and your heart… it’s so loud it’s like a drum beating in my head. It’s driving me crazy, Richie. I need… Just go! Get out of here before I do something I’ll regret.”

“I…” Richie was torn between trying to help his friend, and getting the hell out of there as fast as he d.
d.

Jon curled up in a ball, shaking from head to toe. “Richie… I… I’ll meet you back in your room at the hotel when I’m done.” He lifted his head, putting as hard a push as he could muster into his next word. “Go!”

Richie turned, holding onto the wall. He stumbled, looking back over his shoulder, but Jon had already gone.