kathierif_fic (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
kathierif_fic) wrote2010-07-30 01:44 am
kathierif_fic) wrote2010-07-30 01:44 am
Fic: A Bad Taste In Your Mouth (One Blood, One Life) (CSI:NY AU, gen, FRM) 5/7
Title: A Bad Taste In Your Mouth (One Blood, One Life)
Author: Kathie (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kathierif_fic)
Fandom: CSI:NY
Pairing: none. This is gen. OMG.
Rating: FRM
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
5.
Don slowly blinked his eyes open and almost immediately wished that he hadn’t. A heavy wave of nausea crashed through him, and he found himself dry-heaving for several long moments, until he finally managed to get himself back under control.
Cool fingers brushed against his forehead, but he didn’t quite dare to open his eyes again and concentrated on breathing shallowly through his nose, to keep his rebelling stomach under control.
“Flack?” someone murmured close to his ear, and Don needed a moment to recognize the voice.
“Danny,” he rasped. “What happened? Where are we?”
“Hell if I knew,” Danny replied. “Somewhere in the sewers. Can you sit up?”
Don grimaced, but with Danny’s help, he managed to struggle into an upright position.
“We were attacked,” Danny told him. The fine lines around his eyes were more pronounced than they had been before, Don thought fuzzily, giving him a pinched look that was only aided by the way he pressed his lips together.
“Attacked?” he replied. “Who? Why?”
“Yeah, about that.” Danny brushed his palms over his jeans and glanced down, at the ground between them. Concrete, the small part of Don’s brain that didn’t hurt supplied. “It’s kinda my fault.”
For a long moment, they were both silent, and then Don shifted slightly.
“Your fault?” he rasped. “How’s this your fault?”
Danny exhaled slowly. “His name is Derek Andersen,” he muttered. “I arrested him, he tried to run, I got…injured. A few months ago.”
Don stared at him, not understanding for a long, torturing moment. “He’s a vampire,” he finally guessed.
Danny flinched.
“A vampire, and you took advantage of the fact that they tend not to think when in a rage,” Don continued.
“Yeah,” Danny admitted. “It’s pretty easy to accomplish and effective if you want to bring one down.”
“And pretty dangerous, too,” Don mumbled before swallowing against the nausea rising in his throat again.
“I’m sorry you got dragged into this,” Danny told him. “He was so fast…he had you by the collar and tossed against the wall before either of us could react.” Don could hear him swallow. “For a moment there, I thought you were dead,” he admitted, his voice low and pain-filled. “How are you feeling right now?”
Don grunted. “Right now? Like hell,” he admitted and lifted a hand to his pounding head. It came back sticky while a sharp pain raced along his nerve endings.
“Careful,” Danny murmured. “You were bleeding pretty badly there, for a moment.”
Don grimaced again. “I think I have a concussion,” he admitted. “Bleeding, you say?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“As soon as Mac figures out we’re missing, he’ll come after us. Bleeding is good. He can follow that,” Don explained before taking a deep breath and holding it for a moment. “He’ll be angry and worried, but he’ll find us.”
“I hope you’re right,” Danny whispered. “You look like hell.” He swallowed. “If I’d known they let that damn bloodsucker go…”
“But you didn’t know,” Don interrupted him, struggling to make his voice sound as firm as possible. “It’s not your fault. I swear, Messer, if you’re starting guilt tripping now, I will throw up on you.”
“Please don’t,” Danny said. “It was bad enough that I had to drag you here.”
“Which brings me to my next question. Where is here?” Don asked and shifted slightly.
“I’m not sure,” Danny admitted. “Somewhere underground. Sewers, I think. He blindfolded me, and I was busy not dropping your ass. You’re heavier than you look.”
“Sorry,” Don said and shifted again. He only now realized that there was a heavy chain wrapped around his ankle, tying him to the rough concrete wall. How that had escaped his attention before, he didn’t know, but he suspected the way his head was pounding had something to do with it. The chain was also wrapped around Danny’s ankle, hobbling him and tying them together.
“Mac will find us,” he whispered again and leaned his head against the cool wall.
“I just hope he won’t take too long,” Danny added darkly.
Don frowned. “What?” he murmured. With some difficulty, he managed to get his eyes open and studied Danny thoughtfully. “What are you not telling me, Danny?”
“Nothing,” Danny replied hastily.
“You’re lying,” Don murmured. “Where are we?”
Danny sighed and reached out, to wrap his fingers around Don’s wrist, the way he’d seen Mac do it. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “Mac will find us.”
“You’re hiding something from me,” Don said again, a deep frown etched into his forehead. “Danny?”
“I’m not hiding anything from you,” Danny said patiently and shook his head slightly. “You do remember your name, right?”
“Yeah, I do.” Don lifted a hand, to run it through his short hair, but at the last moment, he seemed to decide against it and reached for Danny instead. His fingers tangled in the collar of Danny’s shirt and tugged, revealing fresh wounds that didn’t have the chance to heal yet.
“Damn it, Messer,” he murmured as exhaustion, pain and defeat caught up with him. “He bit you? You let this nut job bite you?”
Danny lowered his head. “He promised he’d let you go,” he said softly. “You shouldn’t even be here, but the second your head split open…I guess he didn’t want to risk you identifying you, and you know how those bloodsuckers are, and he’s crazy enough that he’d try getting away with kidnapping both of us…” He trailed off, but Don didn’t reply. He’d dozed off, or he had fallen unconscious again, Danny didn’t know. He didn’t like either option.
He’d never in his life hoped for the appearance of a vampire, but right now, he couldn’t imagine a better thing than Mac Taylor tracking them down and freeing them.
~*+*~
“It’s blood,” Mac confirmed, his nostrils flaring at the familiar scent. “I think it’s Don’s.” He swallowed thickly against the rage building up in his body, like a wave that threatened to crash the protective walls of self-control he’d erected in himself. He had to try and stay calm, he told himself firmly, pressing his teeth together until the muscles in his jaw jumped. He wouldn’t help Danny and Don if he lost it now. He needed to think like a CSI, not like a worried vampire, and not let his emotions and his protective instincts guide him. Science was the answer here. He needed to process the scene. He needed Stella here. She was his best CSI, and she would have his back while making sure that the scene wasn’t compromised by the instincts that screamed so loudly at him.
“Are you sure?” Lindsay Monroe asked before biting her lip. “Of course you are. He’s your Donor, right?”
“Yes,” Mac said shortly. He looked around, trying to figure out where Don and Danny could have gone.
He needed his best people working this case, he thought, his hand already disappearing in the pocket of his coat, searching for his cell phone.
Stella, definitely, and Adam.
And he needed to call Sheldon.
This night was quickly turning into a nightmare.
~*+*~
“Mac.”
Mac didn’t turn around immediately, but he could feel his shoulders knot with tension at the sound of Stella’s voice. He had tried to help her and Adam to process the scene, but the faint scent of Don’s blood – so much of it, it had made his guts clench until he had felt as if he had to throw up, something he hadn’t done since he’d been turned into a vampire – had distracted him too much to be as effective as he knew he had to be.
“We found this,” Stella said and held up a clear evidence bag. In it was Don’s phone.
“Any idea where they are now?” he asked, his voice sounding as stiff as his body felt.
“We’re following the blood trail and we’re processing the evidence,” Stella replied gently. “Unless you have an idea how to find them, we have to wait and see.”
“We found the collars,” Mac pointed out. “Time is the one thing we don’t have. The one thing they probably don’t have.”
“We’re working as fast as we can,” Stella said firmly. “We will find them.”
~*+*~
“You look like hell, Mess,” Don murmured and pressed his fingers against Danny’s feverish hot skin. “You need a break.”
“Tell that to our crazy friend,” Danny replied, leaning heavily against Don’s side. “How’s your head feeling?”
“Better,” Don promised and pressed his cheek against the top of Danny’s head. “I have no clue how long we’ve been down here. You?”
“No,” Danny admitted, the word mumbled into Don’s collarbone. He was exhausted and pale, weakened by the numbers of time the vampire had drunk from him. Despite his disgust with the process and the obvious pain he felt every time the sharp teeth penetrated his skin, he’d refused to let the vampire feed from Don. Don had no idea how he’d managed to do that, but if there was one thing he’d learned about Danny during their captivity, it was that the other man was smart and determined. He was probably just as stubborn as Mac, in his own way, and he’d started to display a fierce protectiveness toward Don. In that, too, he resembled Mac.
Don was sure that part of that was because Danny still was feeling guilty about having brought them into this situation in the first place, but he still felt deeply touched that Danny had offered him his friendship in this way. From their first meeting, there had been no doubt that Danny distrusted all vampires deeply, and if the scars at the hollow of his throat were an indicator, he had every reason to do so. And yet, he’d allowed this mentally unstable vampire to bite him, to drink his blood, just to protect Don.
“You need a break,” he whispered softly. “He’s killing you, Danny.”
“Yeah,” Danny replied, his voice just as quiet. “We need to get out of here. If we wait for Mac to find us, he’ll kill both of us.”
Don swallowed against the feeling of nausea that had been his constant companion since they had been brought here, even if he suspected that this time, it didn’t have anything to do with the concussion. He hated to admit it, but Danny was right.
“First, we need to get out of these,” he said and kicked his feet slightly. The chain had rubbed his ankles raw, and he knew that Danny was off even worse after several attempts to free himself.
“Right,” Danny agreed. “Any idea how to do that?” He lifted his head from Don’s shoulder and blinked owlishly at him. Don didn’t remember at which point Danny had lost his glasses, and he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to ask Danny about it.
“Not really,” he admitted. “And even if we manage to get out of the chains, we’re still…here.” He nodded to the dark ceiling above them. “He has the advantage. He knows the area. We don’t. He has had enough blood to keep him fed. We had barely any food.”
“I know,” Danny grumbled.
“The way I see it,” Don murmured and tucked Danny back tight against his side, “we don’t have much of a choice. We need to overwhelm him, make sure he doesn’t follow us.”
“You ever killed a vampire?” Danny whispered.
“No,” Don murmured back. “But I know how to do it.”
“Sunlight,” Danny mused. “That works. Or decapitation.”
“There’s no sunlight here and we don’t have anything to cut his head off,” Don objected and shifted slightly.
“Even if we had something to cut off his head, we should do it on a Friday,” Danny muttered. “Bloodsuckers are supposed to be weakest on Fridays.”
“Myth,” Don huffed. “They’re just as weary on Fridays as everyone else. No mythic power. Having them bite into a lemon doesn’t kill them either.”
“Bite into a lemon?” Danny snorted. “Where did that come from?”
“Somewhere in Germany, I think.” Don shifted again. “There’s tons of myths about vampires around, and most of them are ridiculous.”
“Still doesn’t help us. We need to find a way to get out of here and to stop him.”
“My favorite way,” Don continued as if he hadn’t heard Danny, “comes from Romania. Remove the heart, cut it in two, and put a nail in the vampire’s head. And garlic in his mouth.””
“That would kill him, for sure,” Danny agreed dryly. “But still, where do we get the nail, and how do we remove the heart…not to mention that there is no garlic down here.”
“We don’t even know what day it is. We don’t have a way to find out if it’s Friday or not, unless you remember how long we’ve been here.” Don ran a hand through his hair. “Damn.”
Their situation seemed hopeless.
“We’ll figure something out,” Danny said, a tinge of desperation coloring his voice. “We’ll figure something out soon.”
“We better,” Don replied. “If we need much longer, things will look bad for Mac and Sheldon.”
“You’re supposed to worry about your own life here, not theirs,” Danny felt the need to point out. “Aren’t you worried Andersen will kill you?”
“Of course I am,” Don said. “Who would take care of Mac and Sheldon if…” He stopped and licked his lips. “Plus, I don’t want to die, and you know that.”
Danny sighed. “Yeah.” He coughed. “First, we need to get out of the chains, then we need to overwhelm the bloodsucker, and finally, we have to find our way out of here.”
Don managed a small smile. “Sounds like an almost perfect plan,” he said. “Now we only need to fill in some of the blanks there.”
~*+*~
A mug was pushed over the pristinely clean surface of Mac’s desk, but even before it came to a stop, Mac had scrunched up his nose and shook his head.
“Mac, you have to eat,” Stella said firmly. “You won’t help anyone if you starve yourself to death.”
Mac shook his head again and pressed his lips tightly together. “I’m fine,” he mumbled.
“Your hands are shaking, your ears show the typical characteristics of a vampire near his breaking point, and if your pupils get any smaller, they will disappear completely. And did you notice that the skin of your fingers is pulling back? You look like a zombie that was just dug up. Now drink.”
Mac stared down at his fingertips in surprise. They resembled claws, he realized with a start, animal claws that were meant to rip out someone’s throat.
He was dying, and he was dying quickly. Too quickly. Cold blood that didn’t come from his Donors, even if the blood was compatible with him, would not do a lot to slow the process down.
The mug was pushed toward him again, and Mac glanced up at Stella’s determined face. She would not give up until he at least made an effort and drank something, he knew that.
He reached for the blood with a grimace that pulled at his skin, bad enough that he feared it would rip as easily as wet paper.
He really was in a bad condition.
“I don’t want to explain to Don how I let you go this far when we find him,” Stella pointed out and slid into the chair across from him.
Mac took a small sip of blood and struggled not to gag. Never before had he found the taste of cold blood so disgusting.
“Stella,” he pointed out and swallowed thickly. “It’s been almost two weeks. You know the odds of them still being alive.”
“They are alive,” Stella said firmly, her eyes blazing. “I don’t think they’re dead, Mac. Not if another vampire is involved.”
“That is an assumption,” Mac pointed out tiredly. “We don’t have anything. All our leads are dead. All we have is a blood trail that’s not going anywhere. No suspects. Nothing, Stella.”
Stella sighed softly. Mac was right, of course, but she refused to believe that the two missing Donors were dead.
“How is Sheldon?” she asked, trying to force her thoughts away from that particular line of thinking. She simply refused to believe that the two Donors were dead.
Mac sighed. “Not good,” he admitted. “Apathetic. He stopped working a few days ago. The smell of blood…it gets too much. He couldn’t handle it anymore.”
Stella nodded.
“He’s not doing well,” Mac repeated quietly. “He needs Don. Or Danny. He needs them soon, Stel. He’s starving, he’s in pain, and there is nothing I can do to help him.”
Stella reached out and squeezed Mac’s hand. It didn’t look human anymore, especially not when put in contrast to her own hand, and the skin under her fingertips felt like icy cold, old leather, but Stella didn’t care.
“We’ll find them,” she promised fiercely. “There has to be something we can do.” Her thoughts were already racing, fitting the few puzzle pieces they had together and trying to catch a glimpse of the complete picture.
Mac straightened his shoulders with some difficulty. “Back to square one, then,” he said, and Stella nodded.
The vampires wouldn’t get a new Donor until the deaths of their old ones was confirmed. In the meantime, donated blood had to keep them alive, no matter how disgusting it was.
They would figure out what had happened, who had done this, and where Don and Danny were right now, and when they did…the creature who had dared to lay a finger on Mac Taylor’s Donors would have to face not only two pissed-off and starving vampires, but also a very angry and worried Detective Stella Bonasera. She might not know Danny Messer yet, but she knew Mac, and she knew Don and Sheldon, and she cared deeply for them.
If they found whoever had done this, he wouldn’t know what would hit him.
“Let’s go back to the motive,” she suggested. “There has to be a reason why someone kidnapped your Donors. Someone you or Sheldon pissed off.”
“Or someone Don or Danny pissed off,” Mac pointed out with a soft sigh. “The list of suspects is…long.”
~*+*~
“A paperclip, a spoon, a battery, a belt buckle,” Danny muttered dejectedly. “That’s not a lot to plan an escape with. And do I want to know why you have a spoon in your pocket?”
“No,” Don replied. “And no, it’s not a lot, unless you’re MacGyver.” He pressed his hand against Danny’s throat. “That bastard could’ve healed you, at least. He’s getting sloppy.”
Danny snorted. “Do I look like MacGyver to you?” he asked. “He thinks he’s safe now.”
“He didn’t by any chance leave the key to the lock out and you swiped it?” Don asked hopefully and ripped a sleeve off his shirt, to stop the flow of blood from Danny’s neck. “You’re lucky he didn’t drink from one of the major arteries. Still, what a waste of blood.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Danny tried to bat Don’s hand away. “What’s bothering me more is that there is no way we can escape if I’m bleeding like a stuck pig.”
“No,” Don agreed and pressed the fabric back to Danny’s throat. “Unless you manage to get him in enough of a rage that he collapses. Which is extremely rare, and never happens to a vampire who feeds as regularly as he does.” He sighed.
“He’s mentally unstable. It’s possible I can get him to a breaking point,” Danny mused.
“The only thing he’s going to break is you,” Don sighed. “Look at you, you can barely walk.”
Danny set his jaw stubbornly. “I can do it,” he insisted. “Crazy fucker won’t get me down.”
Don sighed. “There’s an old myth,” he said slowly. Danny had refused to let him get close enough to the vampire – Derek Andersen – to let him feed from Don, and Don had been disoriented enough to let it happen. However, in the past few days, he’d started feeling slightly better, as long as he didn’t move his head too much, and he had had enough time to think about their current situation and how they could get out of it.
Danny frowned confusedly at him, not quite understanding the connection between the two topics. For a split second, he feared that the effects of the concussion Don had suffered were more severe than he’d expected at first; worse enough to leave the other Donor with permanent brain damage.
“Okay?” he said slowly.
“It says that, if you get turned into a vampire, you need to drink the blood of the vampire who turned you, and you’ll get healed.”
“Don, none of us got turned,” Danny pointed out. “And none of us will, you understand me?”
“Yeah,” Don replied. “Besides, it doesn’t work that way anyways. Mac and Sheldon have been experimenting with that one for a while now. That’s why I said it’s a myth.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Danny impatiently asked and yanked at the chain that held him and Don together. The chain led through a ring in the wall and was wound tight around their ankles. As far as Danny could tell, they only needed to open one link and could free themselves at least enough to walk out, but unfortunately, the chain was too strong for either of them to break it with their bare hands, and they had no tools to aid them.
Don gave him a brief and definitely unfriendly smirk. “Because blood is the answer,” he said. “His blood. Danny, have you ever seen what happens when a vampire drinks spoiled blood? Or blood that’s not from a compatible Donor?”
Danny shook his head. “I try to stay away from vampires, you know that,” he pointed out quietly. “Unless I have to…” He swallowed thickly. His hand instinctively went up to his throat, to the network of old scars and new wounds that decorated his skin.
“What happened to you?” Don asked, his voice pitched just as low. “Where did you get those scars, Danny?” His fingers twitched against Danny’s throat.
Danny sighed. “It’s a long story,” he said. “I was…attacked.”
Don nodded. He’d figured out that much.
“It shouldn’t have happened,” Danny whispered. “I’m…I’m not a Donor, Donnie. This kind of life – sitting around, being careful, offering myself up to a bloodsucker anytime they need it – that’s not for me. I need something to do.”
Don didn’t bother correcting him about what the life of a Donor was like. They had other problems to worry about, and he didn’t see any sense in picking a fight with Danny now. They were, quite literally, stuck together in this situation and needed each other if they ever hoped to escape.
“Don?” Danny shifted slightly.
“Hm?” Don replied quietly. He didn’t move, and Danny suspected that the dizziness and the nausea the other man was still feeling was getting worse again.
“He is getting careless,” Danny murmured, his head turned to the side and pressed against Don’s feverish hot temple.
“I know, yeah,” Don murmured back. “How does that help us?”
“Maybe, if you pretend to be unconscious when he comes the next time, he’s more careless when chaining you up again”
“And maybe he’ll let us have more than just a little water and some dry bread,” Don replied before licking his lips. “Hey, maybe he’ll even let us go, Danny.”
Danny snorted. “Maybe we’ll get too filthy to drink from,” he added. “Who knows? It’s worth a try, though.”
He glanced down his own shirt. It was stiff with dried blood, dirt and sweat, and the rest of his clothes weren’t any better off. Don didn’t look better, his pale face a stark contrast to the dark beard that had started to grow, with dark circles under his eyes. The weeks of captivity had left him with even more pronounced cheekbones, and Danny was sure if he stripped off Don’s shirt, he would be able to count the other man’s ribs even in the semi-darkness they were held in.
He desperately needed to find a plan to get Don out of here and back to his own vampires; vampires who cared about their Donor and his well-being.
“I’m gonna get you out of this,” he promised fiercely, all teasing forgotten for now. “I promise you, Don. I’m gonna get you home.”
Don opened his eyes and focused quietly on Danny. “No,” he replied softly. “We’re both getting out. We’re both going home. I’m not leaving you behind, I promise you that, Messer.”
Danny’s lips twitched into a small smile.
“You would’ve made a hell of a cop, Don,” he whispered.
Don nudged him with an elbow. “You make an awesome Donor,” he replied, his words slurred together. “You just need to find the vampire who deserves you and treats you right. Someone you can trust.”
Danny’s answering laugh was sharp. “Like Mac Taylor?” he asked bitterly.
“Yeah.” Don sounded serious; too serious for Danny’s taste. “Mac is a good guy. A little tense sometimes, but he’s a good guy. I wish you could give him a fair chance to prove to you…” He trailed off.
Danny shook his head. “People like me always get the Sonnys and the Andersens,” he whispered softly.
Don struggled to sit up. “Not true,” he replied and tried to smile at Danny. “You get Mac and Sheldon too.” He grimaced. “We just need to get out of here.”
Danny sighed and let his head fall back against the moist wall again. There was no use in telling Don again how much he absolutely didn’t want to be a Donor, now les than ever. He didn’t have Don’s faith in the good of humanity – or vampirekind – and Derek Andersen hadn’t exactly swayed his mind in their favor.
He just wanted everything to be the way it had been before, when he’d been a little cog in the police department of New York City.
~*+*~
A feeding, Danny had quickly realized, always followed the same pattern. Andersen would appear, seemingly out of nowhere. He would make sure Don and Danny were subdued before kneeling down and opening the padlock of their chain. He then would grab Danny – usually because Danny moved to intercept any advances Andersen might make in Don’s direction – drag him out of sight of Don into one of the darker side-tunnels of the sewer and feed. When he was done, he sometimes remembered to heal the wounds he’d left behind, dragged Danny back and chained him to Don again. Then he would disappear again – maybe just out of sight, to listen to their increasingly ridiculous plans of escape and laugh at them, Danny thought, or maybe he left the sewers to do whatever crazy bloodsucker kidnappers did in their spare time. Sometimes he brought them bottled water and sandwiches, but he seemed to forget that, too, more and more often.
He didn’t know how long they’d been down here – days, weeks, a month? He didn’t think it was a month already, but he couldn’t be certain.
He only remembered the exact number of feedings – eight.
Eight times he’d let that crazy bloodsucker bite him, to protect Don, and he’d felt weaker after every time.
Normally, Don had told him, vampires fed twice a week; once if they were stubborn and forgetful and their Donors failed to remind them. Mac, he’d learned, could go a month without fresh blood, even if Don wasn’t happy about it. Sheldon could go two weeks, maximum, maybe a little longer with donated blood available. After that, they resembled zombies more than human beings and acted more like that, as well. There were, Don had revealed, attempts to create an artificial blood substitute that all vampires could digest and that would reduce the need for Donors, but those attempts hadn’t been successful yet.
Eight feedings, Danny mused while pressing himself against Don’s side for warmth. If Andersen had stuck to the norm and had fed twice a week, they’d been down here for four weeks now. If he’d fed less often because he’d always taken such huge amounts of blood, they had been stuck in the sewers for longer. Judging by the beards they both were sporting now and the almost healed gash on Don’s forehead, it hadn’t been much more than three or four weeks, maybe five. Danny didn’t know, and it drove him crazy. He hated not knowing, and Don hadn’t been a lot of help when he’d tried to figure it out, still too dazed from the concussion.
Danny blinked and nudged Don slightly.
“You said vampires get sick if they ingest blood from a Donor that’s not a match, right?” he asked when Don blinked his eyes open.
“Yeah,” Don said and slowly sat up straighter.
Danny frowned. He could, he thought, smack himself for not thinking of this earlier – it was so simple, so obvious, even a two-year-old should have figured it out within hours of their capture, and here he was, weeks later. He was such an idiot sometimes.
“You think,” he said slowly, his voice scratchy from exhaustion and barely contained excitement, “that two Donors could be a match to one vampire, but not compatible to another?!
Don frowned, trying to follow Danny’s train of thought. “You mean…you and me are a match to Mac and his family, but not…him?” he asked slowly.
Danny nodded. “You were bleeding like hell when he grabbed us,” he said. “And he didn’t even twitch! It was pretty easy to let him take me for drinking, too. Not how a vampire who’s compatible to your blood would have reacted.”
Don shrugged. “It’s … not impossible, I guess,” he said slowly. “But how does that help us get out of here?”
Danny grinned manically. “How much blood of a not compatible Donor would eliminate a vampire?”
Don shook his head. “Not much,” he said. “The more the better, of course. What are you planning?”
Danny’s fingers moved to the back of Don’s skull and pulled him close. “We’re going to give him as much of your blood as we can,” he whispered roughly. “Let’s see how he likes that.”
Don nodded. “How?” he whispered back.
Danny couldn’t hold back a small laugh. He waved a hand at himself. “Look at me,” he murmured. “If we just find a way to smear your blood on top of mine…he’ll never notice. I look like hell, anyways.”
“And if he does, we’re as good as dead,” Don muttered dryly. “Here’s another question. How do you want to get my blood on you?”
Danny laughed, dizzy with the thought of having an actual plan. “Spoon?”
TBC
Author: Kathie (
kathierif_fic)Fandom: CSI:NY
Pairing: none. This is gen. OMG.
Rating: FRM
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
5.
Don slowly blinked his eyes open and almost immediately wished that he hadn’t. A heavy wave of nausea crashed through him, and he found himself dry-heaving for several long moments, until he finally managed to get himself back under control.
Cool fingers brushed against his forehead, but he didn’t quite dare to open his eyes again and concentrated on breathing shallowly through his nose, to keep his rebelling stomach under control.
“Flack?” someone murmured close to his ear, and Don needed a moment to recognize the voice.
“Danny,” he rasped. “What happened? Where are we?”
“Hell if I knew,” Danny replied. “Somewhere in the sewers. Can you sit up?”
Don grimaced, but with Danny’s help, he managed to struggle into an upright position.
“We were attacked,” Danny told him. The fine lines around his eyes were more pronounced than they had been before, Don thought fuzzily, giving him a pinched look that was only aided by the way he pressed his lips together.
“Attacked?” he replied. “Who? Why?”
“Yeah, about that.” Danny brushed his palms over his jeans and glanced down, at the ground between them. Concrete, the small part of Don’s brain that didn’t hurt supplied. “It’s kinda my fault.”
For a long moment, they were both silent, and then Don shifted slightly.
“Your fault?” he rasped. “How’s this your fault?”
Danny exhaled slowly. “His name is Derek Andersen,” he muttered. “I arrested him, he tried to run, I got…injured. A few months ago.”
Don stared at him, not understanding for a long, torturing moment. “He’s a vampire,” he finally guessed.
Danny flinched.
“A vampire, and you took advantage of the fact that they tend not to think when in a rage,” Don continued.
“Yeah,” Danny admitted. “It’s pretty easy to accomplish and effective if you want to bring one down.”
“And pretty dangerous, too,” Don mumbled before swallowing against the nausea rising in his throat again.
“I’m sorry you got dragged into this,” Danny told him. “He was so fast…he had you by the collar and tossed against the wall before either of us could react.” Don could hear him swallow. “For a moment there, I thought you were dead,” he admitted, his voice low and pain-filled. “How are you feeling right now?”
Don grunted. “Right now? Like hell,” he admitted and lifted a hand to his pounding head. It came back sticky while a sharp pain raced along his nerve endings.
“Careful,” Danny murmured. “You were bleeding pretty badly there, for a moment.”
Don grimaced again. “I think I have a concussion,” he admitted. “Bleeding, you say?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“As soon as Mac figures out we’re missing, he’ll come after us. Bleeding is good. He can follow that,” Don explained before taking a deep breath and holding it for a moment. “He’ll be angry and worried, but he’ll find us.”
“I hope you’re right,” Danny whispered. “You look like hell.” He swallowed. “If I’d known they let that damn bloodsucker go…”
“But you didn’t know,” Don interrupted him, struggling to make his voice sound as firm as possible. “It’s not your fault. I swear, Messer, if you’re starting guilt tripping now, I will throw up on you.”
“Please don’t,” Danny said. “It was bad enough that I had to drag you here.”
“Which brings me to my next question. Where is here?” Don asked and shifted slightly.
“I’m not sure,” Danny admitted. “Somewhere underground. Sewers, I think. He blindfolded me, and I was busy not dropping your ass. You’re heavier than you look.”
“Sorry,” Don said and shifted again. He only now realized that there was a heavy chain wrapped around his ankle, tying him to the rough concrete wall. How that had escaped his attention before, he didn’t know, but he suspected the way his head was pounding had something to do with it. The chain was also wrapped around Danny’s ankle, hobbling him and tying them together.
“Mac will find us,” he whispered again and leaned his head against the cool wall.
“I just hope he won’t take too long,” Danny added darkly.
Don frowned. “What?” he murmured. With some difficulty, he managed to get his eyes open and studied Danny thoughtfully. “What are you not telling me, Danny?”
“Nothing,” Danny replied hastily.
“You’re lying,” Don murmured. “Where are we?”
Danny sighed and reached out, to wrap his fingers around Don’s wrist, the way he’d seen Mac do it. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “Mac will find us.”
“You’re hiding something from me,” Don said again, a deep frown etched into his forehead. “Danny?”
“I’m not hiding anything from you,” Danny said patiently and shook his head slightly. “You do remember your name, right?”
“Yeah, I do.” Don lifted a hand, to run it through his short hair, but at the last moment, he seemed to decide against it and reached for Danny instead. His fingers tangled in the collar of Danny’s shirt and tugged, revealing fresh wounds that didn’t have the chance to heal yet.
“Damn it, Messer,” he murmured as exhaustion, pain and defeat caught up with him. “He bit you? You let this nut job bite you?”
Danny lowered his head. “He promised he’d let you go,” he said softly. “You shouldn’t even be here, but the second your head split open…I guess he didn’t want to risk you identifying you, and you know how those bloodsuckers are, and he’s crazy enough that he’d try getting away with kidnapping both of us…” He trailed off, but Don didn’t reply. He’d dozed off, or he had fallen unconscious again, Danny didn’t know. He didn’t like either option.
He’d never in his life hoped for the appearance of a vampire, but right now, he couldn’t imagine a better thing than Mac Taylor tracking them down and freeing them.
~*+*~
“It’s blood,” Mac confirmed, his nostrils flaring at the familiar scent. “I think it’s Don’s.” He swallowed thickly against the rage building up in his body, like a wave that threatened to crash the protective walls of self-control he’d erected in himself. He had to try and stay calm, he told himself firmly, pressing his teeth together until the muscles in his jaw jumped. He wouldn’t help Danny and Don if he lost it now. He needed to think like a CSI, not like a worried vampire, and not let his emotions and his protective instincts guide him. Science was the answer here. He needed to process the scene. He needed Stella here. She was his best CSI, and she would have his back while making sure that the scene wasn’t compromised by the instincts that screamed so loudly at him.
“Are you sure?” Lindsay Monroe asked before biting her lip. “Of course you are. He’s your Donor, right?”
“Yes,” Mac said shortly. He looked around, trying to figure out where Don and Danny could have gone.
He needed his best people working this case, he thought, his hand already disappearing in the pocket of his coat, searching for his cell phone.
Stella, definitely, and Adam.
And he needed to call Sheldon.
This night was quickly turning into a nightmare.
~*+*~
“Mac.”
Mac didn’t turn around immediately, but he could feel his shoulders knot with tension at the sound of Stella’s voice. He had tried to help her and Adam to process the scene, but the faint scent of Don’s blood – so much of it, it had made his guts clench until he had felt as if he had to throw up, something he hadn’t done since he’d been turned into a vampire – had distracted him too much to be as effective as he knew he had to be.
“We found this,” Stella said and held up a clear evidence bag. In it was Don’s phone.
“Any idea where they are now?” he asked, his voice sounding as stiff as his body felt.
“We’re following the blood trail and we’re processing the evidence,” Stella replied gently. “Unless you have an idea how to find them, we have to wait and see.”
“We found the collars,” Mac pointed out. “Time is the one thing we don’t have. The one thing they probably don’t have.”
“We’re working as fast as we can,” Stella said firmly. “We will find them.”
~*+*~
“You look like hell, Mess,” Don murmured and pressed his fingers against Danny’s feverish hot skin. “You need a break.”
“Tell that to our crazy friend,” Danny replied, leaning heavily against Don’s side. “How’s your head feeling?”
“Better,” Don promised and pressed his cheek against the top of Danny’s head. “I have no clue how long we’ve been down here. You?”
“No,” Danny admitted, the word mumbled into Don’s collarbone. He was exhausted and pale, weakened by the numbers of time the vampire had drunk from him. Despite his disgust with the process and the obvious pain he felt every time the sharp teeth penetrated his skin, he’d refused to let the vampire feed from Don. Don had no idea how he’d managed to do that, but if there was one thing he’d learned about Danny during their captivity, it was that the other man was smart and determined. He was probably just as stubborn as Mac, in his own way, and he’d started to display a fierce protectiveness toward Don. In that, too, he resembled Mac.
Don was sure that part of that was because Danny still was feeling guilty about having brought them into this situation in the first place, but he still felt deeply touched that Danny had offered him his friendship in this way. From their first meeting, there had been no doubt that Danny distrusted all vampires deeply, and if the scars at the hollow of his throat were an indicator, he had every reason to do so. And yet, he’d allowed this mentally unstable vampire to bite him, to drink his blood, just to protect Don.
“You need a break,” he whispered softly. “He’s killing you, Danny.”
“Yeah,” Danny replied, his voice just as quiet. “We need to get out of here. If we wait for Mac to find us, he’ll kill both of us.”
Don swallowed against the feeling of nausea that had been his constant companion since they had been brought here, even if he suspected that this time, it didn’t have anything to do with the concussion. He hated to admit it, but Danny was right.
“First, we need to get out of these,” he said and kicked his feet slightly. The chain had rubbed his ankles raw, and he knew that Danny was off even worse after several attempts to free himself.
“Right,” Danny agreed. “Any idea how to do that?” He lifted his head from Don’s shoulder and blinked owlishly at him. Don didn’t remember at which point Danny had lost his glasses, and he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to ask Danny about it.
“Not really,” he admitted. “And even if we manage to get out of the chains, we’re still…here.” He nodded to the dark ceiling above them. “He has the advantage. He knows the area. We don’t. He has had enough blood to keep him fed. We had barely any food.”
“I know,” Danny grumbled.
“The way I see it,” Don murmured and tucked Danny back tight against his side, “we don’t have much of a choice. We need to overwhelm him, make sure he doesn’t follow us.”
“You ever killed a vampire?” Danny whispered.
“No,” Don murmured back. “But I know how to do it.”
“Sunlight,” Danny mused. “That works. Or decapitation.”
“There’s no sunlight here and we don’t have anything to cut his head off,” Don objected and shifted slightly.
“Even if we had something to cut off his head, we should do it on a Friday,” Danny muttered. “Bloodsuckers are supposed to be weakest on Fridays.”
“Myth,” Don huffed. “They’re just as weary on Fridays as everyone else. No mythic power. Having them bite into a lemon doesn’t kill them either.”
“Bite into a lemon?” Danny snorted. “Where did that come from?”
“Somewhere in Germany, I think.” Don shifted again. “There’s tons of myths about vampires around, and most of them are ridiculous.”
“Still doesn’t help us. We need to find a way to get out of here and to stop him.”
“My favorite way,” Don continued as if he hadn’t heard Danny, “comes from Romania. Remove the heart, cut it in two, and put a nail in the vampire’s head. And garlic in his mouth.””
“That would kill him, for sure,” Danny agreed dryly. “But still, where do we get the nail, and how do we remove the heart…not to mention that there is no garlic down here.”
“We don’t even know what day it is. We don’t have a way to find out if it’s Friday or not, unless you remember how long we’ve been here.” Don ran a hand through his hair. “Damn.”
Their situation seemed hopeless.
“We’ll figure something out,” Danny said, a tinge of desperation coloring his voice. “We’ll figure something out soon.”
“We better,” Don replied. “If we need much longer, things will look bad for Mac and Sheldon.”
“You’re supposed to worry about your own life here, not theirs,” Danny felt the need to point out. “Aren’t you worried Andersen will kill you?”
“Of course I am,” Don said. “Who would take care of Mac and Sheldon if…” He stopped and licked his lips. “Plus, I don’t want to die, and you know that.”
Danny sighed. “Yeah.” He coughed. “First, we need to get out of the chains, then we need to overwhelm the bloodsucker, and finally, we have to find our way out of here.”
Don managed a small smile. “Sounds like an almost perfect plan,” he said. “Now we only need to fill in some of the blanks there.”
~*+*~
A mug was pushed over the pristinely clean surface of Mac’s desk, but even before it came to a stop, Mac had scrunched up his nose and shook his head.
“Mac, you have to eat,” Stella said firmly. “You won’t help anyone if you starve yourself to death.”
Mac shook his head again and pressed his lips tightly together. “I’m fine,” he mumbled.
“Your hands are shaking, your ears show the typical characteristics of a vampire near his breaking point, and if your pupils get any smaller, they will disappear completely. And did you notice that the skin of your fingers is pulling back? You look like a zombie that was just dug up. Now drink.”
Mac stared down at his fingertips in surprise. They resembled claws, he realized with a start, animal claws that were meant to rip out someone’s throat.
He was dying, and he was dying quickly. Too quickly. Cold blood that didn’t come from his Donors, even if the blood was compatible with him, would not do a lot to slow the process down.
The mug was pushed toward him again, and Mac glanced up at Stella’s determined face. She would not give up until he at least made an effort and drank something, he knew that.
He reached for the blood with a grimace that pulled at his skin, bad enough that he feared it would rip as easily as wet paper.
He really was in a bad condition.
“I don’t want to explain to Don how I let you go this far when we find him,” Stella pointed out and slid into the chair across from him.
Mac took a small sip of blood and struggled not to gag. Never before had he found the taste of cold blood so disgusting.
“Stella,” he pointed out and swallowed thickly. “It’s been almost two weeks. You know the odds of them still being alive.”
“They are alive,” Stella said firmly, her eyes blazing. “I don’t think they’re dead, Mac. Not if another vampire is involved.”
“That is an assumption,” Mac pointed out tiredly. “We don’t have anything. All our leads are dead. All we have is a blood trail that’s not going anywhere. No suspects. Nothing, Stella.”
Stella sighed softly. Mac was right, of course, but she refused to believe that the two missing Donors were dead.
“How is Sheldon?” she asked, trying to force her thoughts away from that particular line of thinking. She simply refused to believe that the two Donors were dead.
Mac sighed. “Not good,” he admitted. “Apathetic. He stopped working a few days ago. The smell of blood…it gets too much. He couldn’t handle it anymore.”
Stella nodded.
“He’s not doing well,” Mac repeated quietly. “He needs Don. Or Danny. He needs them soon, Stel. He’s starving, he’s in pain, and there is nothing I can do to help him.”
Stella reached out and squeezed Mac’s hand. It didn’t look human anymore, especially not when put in contrast to her own hand, and the skin under her fingertips felt like icy cold, old leather, but Stella didn’t care.
“We’ll find them,” she promised fiercely. “There has to be something we can do.” Her thoughts were already racing, fitting the few puzzle pieces they had together and trying to catch a glimpse of the complete picture.
Mac straightened his shoulders with some difficulty. “Back to square one, then,” he said, and Stella nodded.
The vampires wouldn’t get a new Donor until the deaths of their old ones was confirmed. In the meantime, donated blood had to keep them alive, no matter how disgusting it was.
They would figure out what had happened, who had done this, and where Don and Danny were right now, and when they did…the creature who had dared to lay a finger on Mac Taylor’s Donors would have to face not only two pissed-off and starving vampires, but also a very angry and worried Detective Stella Bonasera. She might not know Danny Messer yet, but she knew Mac, and she knew Don and Sheldon, and she cared deeply for them.
If they found whoever had done this, he wouldn’t know what would hit him.
“Let’s go back to the motive,” she suggested. “There has to be a reason why someone kidnapped your Donors. Someone you or Sheldon pissed off.”
“Or someone Don or Danny pissed off,” Mac pointed out with a soft sigh. “The list of suspects is…long.”
~*+*~
“A paperclip, a spoon, a battery, a belt buckle,” Danny muttered dejectedly. “That’s not a lot to plan an escape with. And do I want to know why you have a spoon in your pocket?”
“No,” Don replied. “And no, it’s not a lot, unless you’re MacGyver.” He pressed his hand against Danny’s throat. “That bastard could’ve healed you, at least. He’s getting sloppy.”
Danny snorted. “Do I look like MacGyver to you?” he asked. “He thinks he’s safe now.”
“He didn’t by any chance leave the key to the lock out and you swiped it?” Don asked hopefully and ripped a sleeve off his shirt, to stop the flow of blood from Danny’s neck. “You’re lucky he didn’t drink from one of the major arteries. Still, what a waste of blood.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Danny tried to bat Don’s hand away. “What’s bothering me more is that there is no way we can escape if I’m bleeding like a stuck pig.”
“No,” Don agreed and pressed the fabric back to Danny’s throat. “Unless you manage to get him in enough of a rage that he collapses. Which is extremely rare, and never happens to a vampire who feeds as regularly as he does.” He sighed.
“He’s mentally unstable. It’s possible I can get him to a breaking point,” Danny mused.
“The only thing he’s going to break is you,” Don sighed. “Look at you, you can barely walk.”
Danny set his jaw stubbornly. “I can do it,” he insisted. “Crazy fucker won’t get me down.”
Don sighed. “There’s an old myth,” he said slowly. Danny had refused to let him get close enough to the vampire – Derek Andersen – to let him feed from Don, and Don had been disoriented enough to let it happen. However, in the past few days, he’d started feeling slightly better, as long as he didn’t move his head too much, and he had had enough time to think about their current situation and how they could get out of it.
Danny frowned confusedly at him, not quite understanding the connection between the two topics. For a split second, he feared that the effects of the concussion Don had suffered were more severe than he’d expected at first; worse enough to leave the other Donor with permanent brain damage.
“Okay?” he said slowly.
“It says that, if you get turned into a vampire, you need to drink the blood of the vampire who turned you, and you’ll get healed.”
“Don, none of us got turned,” Danny pointed out. “And none of us will, you understand me?”
“Yeah,” Don replied. “Besides, it doesn’t work that way anyways. Mac and Sheldon have been experimenting with that one for a while now. That’s why I said it’s a myth.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Danny impatiently asked and yanked at the chain that held him and Don together. The chain led through a ring in the wall and was wound tight around their ankles. As far as Danny could tell, they only needed to open one link and could free themselves at least enough to walk out, but unfortunately, the chain was too strong for either of them to break it with their bare hands, and they had no tools to aid them.
Don gave him a brief and definitely unfriendly smirk. “Because blood is the answer,” he said. “His blood. Danny, have you ever seen what happens when a vampire drinks spoiled blood? Or blood that’s not from a compatible Donor?”
Danny shook his head. “I try to stay away from vampires, you know that,” he pointed out quietly. “Unless I have to…” He swallowed thickly. His hand instinctively went up to his throat, to the network of old scars and new wounds that decorated his skin.
“What happened to you?” Don asked, his voice pitched just as low. “Where did you get those scars, Danny?” His fingers twitched against Danny’s throat.
Danny sighed. “It’s a long story,” he said. “I was…attacked.”
Don nodded. He’d figured out that much.
“It shouldn’t have happened,” Danny whispered. “I’m…I’m not a Donor, Donnie. This kind of life – sitting around, being careful, offering myself up to a bloodsucker anytime they need it – that’s not for me. I need something to do.”
Don didn’t bother correcting him about what the life of a Donor was like. They had other problems to worry about, and he didn’t see any sense in picking a fight with Danny now. They were, quite literally, stuck together in this situation and needed each other if they ever hoped to escape.
“Don?” Danny shifted slightly.
“Hm?” Don replied quietly. He didn’t move, and Danny suspected that the dizziness and the nausea the other man was still feeling was getting worse again.
“He is getting careless,” Danny murmured, his head turned to the side and pressed against Don’s feverish hot temple.
“I know, yeah,” Don murmured back. “How does that help us?”
“Maybe, if you pretend to be unconscious when he comes the next time, he’s more careless when chaining you up again”
“And maybe he’ll let us have more than just a little water and some dry bread,” Don replied before licking his lips. “Hey, maybe he’ll even let us go, Danny.”
Danny snorted. “Maybe we’ll get too filthy to drink from,” he added. “Who knows? It’s worth a try, though.”
He glanced down his own shirt. It was stiff with dried blood, dirt and sweat, and the rest of his clothes weren’t any better off. Don didn’t look better, his pale face a stark contrast to the dark beard that had started to grow, with dark circles under his eyes. The weeks of captivity had left him with even more pronounced cheekbones, and Danny was sure if he stripped off Don’s shirt, he would be able to count the other man’s ribs even in the semi-darkness they were held in.
He desperately needed to find a plan to get Don out of here and back to his own vampires; vampires who cared about their Donor and his well-being.
“I’m gonna get you out of this,” he promised fiercely, all teasing forgotten for now. “I promise you, Don. I’m gonna get you home.”
Don opened his eyes and focused quietly on Danny. “No,” he replied softly. “We’re both getting out. We’re both going home. I’m not leaving you behind, I promise you that, Messer.”
Danny’s lips twitched into a small smile.
“You would’ve made a hell of a cop, Don,” he whispered.
Don nudged him with an elbow. “You make an awesome Donor,” he replied, his words slurred together. “You just need to find the vampire who deserves you and treats you right. Someone you can trust.”
Danny’s answering laugh was sharp. “Like Mac Taylor?” he asked bitterly.
“Yeah.” Don sounded serious; too serious for Danny’s taste. “Mac is a good guy. A little tense sometimes, but he’s a good guy. I wish you could give him a fair chance to prove to you…” He trailed off.
Danny shook his head. “People like me always get the Sonnys and the Andersens,” he whispered softly.
Don struggled to sit up. “Not true,” he replied and tried to smile at Danny. “You get Mac and Sheldon too.” He grimaced. “We just need to get out of here.”
Danny sighed and let his head fall back against the moist wall again. There was no use in telling Don again how much he absolutely didn’t want to be a Donor, now les than ever. He didn’t have Don’s faith in the good of humanity – or vampirekind – and Derek Andersen hadn’t exactly swayed his mind in their favor.
He just wanted everything to be the way it had been before, when he’d been a little cog in the police department of New York City.
~*+*~
A feeding, Danny had quickly realized, always followed the same pattern. Andersen would appear, seemingly out of nowhere. He would make sure Don and Danny were subdued before kneeling down and opening the padlock of their chain. He then would grab Danny – usually because Danny moved to intercept any advances Andersen might make in Don’s direction – drag him out of sight of Don into one of the darker side-tunnels of the sewer and feed. When he was done, he sometimes remembered to heal the wounds he’d left behind, dragged Danny back and chained him to Don again. Then he would disappear again – maybe just out of sight, to listen to their increasingly ridiculous plans of escape and laugh at them, Danny thought, or maybe he left the sewers to do whatever crazy bloodsucker kidnappers did in their spare time. Sometimes he brought them bottled water and sandwiches, but he seemed to forget that, too, more and more often.
He didn’t know how long they’d been down here – days, weeks, a month? He didn’t think it was a month already, but he couldn’t be certain.
He only remembered the exact number of feedings – eight.
Eight times he’d let that crazy bloodsucker bite him, to protect Don, and he’d felt weaker after every time.
Normally, Don had told him, vampires fed twice a week; once if they were stubborn and forgetful and their Donors failed to remind them. Mac, he’d learned, could go a month without fresh blood, even if Don wasn’t happy about it. Sheldon could go two weeks, maximum, maybe a little longer with donated blood available. After that, they resembled zombies more than human beings and acted more like that, as well. There were, Don had revealed, attempts to create an artificial blood substitute that all vampires could digest and that would reduce the need for Donors, but those attempts hadn’t been successful yet.
Eight feedings, Danny mused while pressing himself against Don’s side for warmth. If Andersen had stuck to the norm and had fed twice a week, they’d been down here for four weeks now. If he’d fed less often because he’d always taken such huge amounts of blood, they had been stuck in the sewers for longer. Judging by the beards they both were sporting now and the almost healed gash on Don’s forehead, it hadn’t been much more than three or four weeks, maybe five. Danny didn’t know, and it drove him crazy. He hated not knowing, and Don hadn’t been a lot of help when he’d tried to figure it out, still too dazed from the concussion.
Danny blinked and nudged Don slightly.
“You said vampires get sick if they ingest blood from a Donor that’s not a match, right?” he asked when Don blinked his eyes open.
“Yeah,” Don said and slowly sat up straighter.
Danny frowned. He could, he thought, smack himself for not thinking of this earlier – it was so simple, so obvious, even a two-year-old should have figured it out within hours of their capture, and here he was, weeks later. He was such an idiot sometimes.
“You think,” he said slowly, his voice scratchy from exhaustion and barely contained excitement, “that two Donors could be a match to one vampire, but not compatible to another?!
Don frowned, trying to follow Danny’s train of thought. “You mean…you and me are a match to Mac and his family, but not…him?” he asked slowly.
Danny nodded. “You were bleeding like hell when he grabbed us,” he said. “And he didn’t even twitch! It was pretty easy to let him take me for drinking, too. Not how a vampire who’s compatible to your blood would have reacted.”
Don shrugged. “It’s … not impossible, I guess,” he said slowly. “But how does that help us get out of here?”
Danny grinned manically. “How much blood of a not compatible Donor would eliminate a vampire?”
Don shook his head. “Not much,” he said. “The more the better, of course. What are you planning?”
Danny’s fingers moved to the back of Don’s skull and pulled him close. “We’re going to give him as much of your blood as we can,” he whispered roughly. “Let’s see how he likes that.”
Don nodded. “How?” he whispered back.
Danny couldn’t hold back a small laugh. He waved a hand at himself. “Look at me,” he murmured. “If we just find a way to smear your blood on top of mine…he’ll never notice. I look like hell, anyways.”
“And if he does, we’re as good as dead,” Don muttered dryly. “Here’s another question. How do you want to get my blood on you?”
Danny laughed, dizzy with the thought of having an actual plan. “Spoon?”
TBC