It was nearly dawn when he emerged from the intense, almost trance-like state of mind that accompanied his painting. He was as hungry as he had been before he began, and exhausted and sore as well, his arm a mass of scars and healing cuts. But the canvas had been splattered with blood in a pattern he felt was as close to perfect as anything he'd ever done. He blinked at it, taking in the whole thing, then smiled. He would begin the actual painting after he had rested. For now he'd done more than enough for one night. He stretched with a low groan, trying to work the stiffness from his limbs.

“Hey there. Looks like it went pretty well. Dunno that I could ever do something like that, your arm looks pretty raw.”

Andrew started, and turned to see James standing in the doorway. “You were watching me paint?”

“Yeah, some. You seemed pretty intent on it. I had a nap for a while, but it was interesting to watch.”

Andrew didn't quite know how to respond to that. He shifted, and in the awkward silence he became aware of the sound of James' breathing, of the fainter sound of his heartbeat. He licked his lips, his hunger surging higher. “You, uh...” He hesitated. “You wanted to donate blood...”

James nodded. “Yeah. I guess after losing that much while painting you're probably really in need of some.”

Andrew nodded in return. “Yeah.”

“Well, that's why I came,” said James with a grin. He stepped into the room. “Go ahead.”

Andrew crossed the space between them, still feeling awkward. As Alice had before, James tilted his head to the side in invitation. The rabbit was a little bit shorter than Andrew, though not much. Andrew stepped close, though he felt reluctant and once again nervous, but hunger demanded, so he rested his hands on James' shoulders and bent his head to bite in. The flavor of blood was as intense as ever, pushing all other thoughts out of his head. James pressed against him, as Alice had. He slid his arms around Andrew's waist, his hands against Andrew's back. A shiver of renewed nervousness went through Andrew. Having the other man close like that was stirring uncomfortable memories. But the taste of blood was so good, his hunger so great, that he was able to ignore such thoughts and continue to drink. James let out a soft sound, almost a moan, of pleasure and pressed closer yet, his whole body close against Andrew's. And as he did so Andrew could feel that James was excited, aroused even. The feel of it against him was too much and amid a sudden flood of awful memory he jerked back with a cry.

James cried out too as Andrew's fangs tore roughly free of his neck. He put his hand to the rapidly oozing wound, an expression of shock on his face. Andrew stumbled backwards, shaking and trembling, and then tripped and fell. He didn't rise but curled up on the floor, wrapping his arms around his legs and closing his eyes tightly, his face buried in his knees. He whimpered, trembling violently.

James stared down at Andrew with wide eyes. “Andrew? What happened? Are you okay?”

Andrew didn't respond.

“Hey, it's okay...” James bent over Andrew and touched his shoulder. Andrew whimpered and flinched away from the touch.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no...”

James backed away, then turned and ran out of the room. He came back moments later with Marian and Alice in tow. “He just curled up like that,” said James, sounding thoroughly unnerved. “I don't know what went wrong.”

Marian knelt at Andrew's side. Andrew was still whimpering, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. “Andrew,” she said gently, and touched his shoulder. He didn't flinch at her touch. He didn't react at all. “Andrew,” she repeated, “tell us what's wrong. We want to help you.”

He still didn't respond. She shook his shoulder. “Andrew, please...”

“G-g-go away,” he whispered.

Marian let go of his shoulder. “Andrew... Please, let me help you. Tell me what's wrong.”

“No. G-go away. No, no, no, no, no...” He kept repeating it over and over. Marian got to her feet, looking worried.

“I don't know what to do,” she said. “I think I need to try to find Jen, but it's almost dawn, and I don't even know where she lives...”

“What are we going to do then?” asked Alice.

Marian rubbed her forehead. “I don't know. For now I don't think we can do anything but leave him alone.”

The three of them stood uncertainly, looking down at the huddled vampire, who was still repeating “No, no, no” over and over, a mantra to ward off memory. But the sun was beginning to edge above the horizon, unseen outside, and as it rose he gradually stilled and went silent, released from pain by dreamless sleep.