Chapter Text
.
.
“You’re such a fucking asshole!” Guillermo sobs, clutching desperately to the still-bleeding wound at Nandor’s chest.
Nandor chuckles, reaching up a trembling hand to cradle the back of Guillermo’s head. “It’s nice to see you too, Guillermo.”
Guillermo was safe. As were Nadja and Laszlo–and Colin Robinson, someone he did genuinely care about even if it was difficult to admit most of the time.
Nandor sighed tiredly, letting his eyes shutter closed. He would be fine drifting off like this, head pillowed in Guillermo’s lap, surrounded by the corpses of his enemies. Seven hundred and fifty eight years was a long life–it had been a gift and a curse in equal measure, but it was a life he did not regret, not when it had eventually led him to the peculiar little vampire slayer above him.
He hears Guillermo sob even louder, his tears falling onto Nandor’s brow as he bowed over the vampire, their foreheads touching. “No. No! You are not allowed to die right now! Come on, fuck–open your eyes you stupid vampire!”
Nandor is faintly aware of something warm dripping against his cheek a few moments later. Blood–Guillermo’s blood, his mind supplies, eyes fluttering open. An almost pitiful moan escapes him at the intoxicating scent that could only belong to one human in particular.
Guillermo. His familiar. A vampire slayer. A vampire slayer who had opened up an artery for him. Who had done it without even a moment’s hesitation.
“Drink,” Guillermo soothes, bringing his bleeding wrist closer to Nandor’s mouth. His vision swims as he feels the warmth of Guillermo’s skin against his lips. At the rich taste of his familiar’s blood on his tongue, Nandor instinctively pulls away, a strangled hiss slipping past his throat.
“No–I don’t want to hurt you,” Nandor grits through clenched teeth, breaths ragged and sharp. Despite not having any physiological need for oxygen, his body still remembered the trauma of dying, the way his lungs had once struggled to expand under the heavy weight of his own blood pooling into his pleural cavity.
Panic welled briefly in his chest as Guillermo tilted his chin towards him, brown eyes still brimming with tears.
“It’s okay… so, please. Let me help. I won’t just sit here and watch you die.” A flash of fondness breaks through the dark fog of his tears as he sniffles, lips curling into a faint smile. “Besides, I’m your familiar. It’s my job to take care of you.”
“Guillermo…” Nandor rasps, grasping his arm just below the wound in a firm but gentle grip. “I would never ask this of you.” I could never think of you as a meal, Nandor reflects, even as his fangs ache to sink into Guillermo’s soft flesh.
Guillermo nods, letting out a relieved chuckle. “I know. That’s why I’m doing it. So come on… drink up already.”
With one final glance at Guillermo’s face, Nandor brings his mouth to the warm line of blood, letting the sound of Guillermo’s strong, steady heartbeat guide him as he drank his fill.
He had thought Guillermo would taste like a lot of things–warm, like the heat of the fireplace in the music room that Guillermo always kept burning with ample timber. Cinnamon, like the spoonfuls he added to his home-made pastries, a sweet scent that lingered on Guillermo’s fingers and lips long after he was done baking. Ancient, as if the very blood in his veins was imbued with the heady taste of centuries worth of vampire hunters who had spent their lives killing creatures of the night.
But it’s much simpler than that; he tastes like home.