Date: Sun, 27 Oct 1996 22:27:10 -0000 From: Michelle David Whew! Almost an entire month offline, and THIS is what I've gotten! (I recently moved...) Note: I haven't seen all of the third season, so I'm just going to work on the assumption that LaCroix lives where he works. And if he didn't, then the whole thing wouldn't work! I hope I've coined a new term- the Vachometer!!! Heh. Note: ALL email sent to Schattenjager@hotmail.com in the last month was NOT recived, 'kay? A couple of failed NOMAIL commands... don't ask. Send them to the addy below. That includes comments about former stories, too, along with this inane little ditty. Standard disclaimers. ************ There's More Than One Hell By Michelle David ************ Nick entered his loft slowly. Well, to be more specific, he stumbled in. God, was he tired. His nice bed was waiting for him, it had been waiting for him all night... Now, this was unexpected. "LaCroix!" Nick exclaimed, too tiried to fully comprehend the surprise of seeing his master waiting patiently for him on the sofa. "What are you doing here?" LaCroix crossed over to Nick, who still stood by the elevator. He held up a bottle of blood. "Oh, nothing, Nicholas. I was just in the neighborhood..." It was obvious he wasn't, and was simply teasing his favorite son. Nick eyed the bottle nervously. He had also been thinking about a bottle or three of cows blood, but human blood... "You're always in the neighborhood," he snapped back. He crossed over to the fridge and uncorked a bottle with his teeth. "What do you want?" he asked, after the bottle was half empty. "Now, Nicholas... wouldn't you rather partake in one of the... finer things in life?" he asked, holding the blood out temptingly. The cow's blood had revived Nick suffiently to see the trap. His arm darted out, and he smashed the bottle to the floor. "Don't mock me, LaCroix," the vampire half snarled. LaCroix shook his head. "Really. That was from my own stock, too." Nick tried to figure out how to get LaCroix out of here, so he could get some sleep. "I have a bottle stashed somewhere," he mumbled. "Take it." LaCroix nodded. "I'll be sure to." Nick sighed. "Now, what do you want? I'm not in the mood for one of your games," he said. "You're never in the mood," LaCroix mocked. "Now, where were we?" "How to get you to leave," Nick muttered, yawning loudly. LaCroix sniffled. "Really, Nicholas!" He paused. "Well, as I can see, you're obviously *very* tired..." "You bet I am," Nick mumbled. "Now, if you can just get *out* of here..." He began to head to the bedroom. "Go on ahead, Nicholas, I'll be there shortly," LaCroix said, a simple and casual statement, along the same lines as "Oh, a letter from Bricks International arrived for you." Nick had been halfway to the bedroom when LaCroix said that last sentence. In just one Vachometer, (the blink of an eye; get it??? Heh. -Michelle) he was standing back in front of LaCroix again. "Uhhh... what?" Nick managed. "I've already settled my things into there," LaCroix said casually. "If you're curious..." But Nick was gone by this point. "AUGGGGGH!!!" yelled Nick. "It's... RETRO!!!" His bed now had a large black and white embroidered peace sign on it. A record by The Byrds was playing loudly. Happy face wallpaper decorated the walls. Two lava lamps guarded the opening to the room. Bead curtains covered the blinds. He yanked open a dresser drawer. Bellbottoms. Drawstrings. He wondered what the bathroom looked like, right before he passed out. For a moment, the thought of Tracy flew through his head as he caught one last glimpse of the wallpaper. LaCroix stood next to Nick, and rolled his eyes. "Don't you have any appreciation for the finer things in life?" He stopped when he noticed Nick was collapsed on the floor. "Umm... Nicholas?" ******* Nick woke up with the taste of human blood in his mouth and the glow of a lava lamp in his eyes. He was slightly confused for a few moments, before remembering what LaCroix had done to his room. "I told you I'd find your bottle," LaCroix commented dryly, showing Nick the bottle he had fed to him. "What... what ARE you doing here, anyways?" Nick asked. LaCroix sighed. "Don't you ever watch the news?" He gestured to the television, which he had switched on. "In other news, a fire in downtown Toronto almost totally burned down several buildings, including a nightclub, The Raven, and several stores. Only one casualty has been reported so far. Currently, the suspected cause is a gas leak-" LaCroix turned the TV off. "So, my dear Nicholas, I'm afraid I'll have to stay here a few weeks until The Raven gets rebuilt..." He paused. "I'm really surprised you didn't notice a fire- you're a homicide detective." "Stay here???" Nick was incredulous, not to mention hitting himself over the head for having to spend his entire work shift swamped in paperwork, rather than being able to be informed about what had happened that night. "Yes. Good thing I was able to salvage most of my things." LaCroix smiled evily. Nick felt dizzy, and it wasn't just the happy faces smiling down on him. "Ummm... I didn't know you had such... *interesting* tastes, LaCroix..." Nick managed. LaCroix' gaze had the potential to cause serious damage to your typical mortal. Currently, he was applying it full force. "Nicholas, are you *insulting* my taste in interior decoration?" "No," Nick quickly said. "Good," LaCroix said, smiling smugly. It wasn't all his stuff, of course. In fact, his possesions were stored right here in the werehouse. But when he had realized there was a fire on the block where The Raven was, he had run out into the street, and the owner of 'Flower Power Americana' had begged him to save his merchandise. That had given LaCroix the idea. After a quick meal, he had moved much of the merchandise to the loft, and redecorated before Nick had returned. He didn't mind the fact he'd have to stay here. Maybe he could spend the next few weeks redecorating the rest of the loft, replacing that awful cows blood, etc. And perhaps he could rig the blinds so that it would hit the bed around noon quickly enough for a good smoke. And maybe get the opening strains of "The Sound of Music" to play at a few thousand decibels three hours before Nick normally woke... He had learned long ago Nicholas was very vulnerable. And he knew his son's weaknesses. And he knew... That in a universe where your soul was damned, there were still *many* hells for a man to endure. Such as coming home each morning to a room filled with bright yellow happy faces inhabited by a very, very, bored- and possibly Tracy-fied- 2000 year old vampire. ******** Finis Questions? Comments? Attacks? M&Ms? Uncles? Pre-wrapped Vachons (An X-Mas gift for the person who has everything!)? Send them all to: GabeKnight@hotmail.com!!!