Archive of Our Own

I. Laszlo

Laszlo doesn’t care much for others. But sometimes, he cares a little bit.

He cares the most about Nadja, obviously. She is everything to him, and Laszlo can’t remember what meaning his life had without her. But there are others, too. Beings that have wormed their way into his heart, against all his better judgement. Laszlo does not want to give a single fuck about anyone but himself. Unfortunately, he cannot help but give a few.

After Nandor’s (frankly rather dramatic) exit into the night, Laszlo retired to the library. If this was to be anything like his own occasional flights from a particularly sticky problem, it wouldn’t last more than a few weeks. Maybe a month. Sure, it wasn’t very like Nandor to leave (he was supposed to be the steady one, the one to keep them together) but Laszlo could understand that some issues needed to be figured out elsewhere.

Besides, it’s not like he gave a shit about Nandor anyway.

He sits in the library with one of his current favorite modern epics ( 50 Shades of Grey ), and ignores any shouting or commotion. It’s none of his business, and the book is far more interesting anyway. He is turning a page on yet another delicious scene when the front door opens and closes, softly. Footsteps drag down the hallway, like their owner is plodding to the executioner’s block. Laszlo tries to ignore it. Then he hears the sniffling.

“Fuck’s sake,” he mutters under his breath. How is he supposed to pay attention to Christian and Anastasia’s intense lovemaking scene when there’s that disgusting weeping sound happening?

The shape of Nandor’s familiar ( Guillermo , he reminds himself. He’s supposed to get better at that.) passes the open door to the library. He’s tromping along, head down, hands shoved in his pockets. He looks like a man whose favorite whore has just died. Laszlo’s seen that look a lot. Normally, he’d find it quite pathetic.

He still does, but there’s something else now, as he looks upon the young human man. He’s felt this feeling a few times before, with Seanie, and Colin Robinson, and the volleyball team who knew him as Jackie Daytona: he gave a fuck. And he wanted to help him.

“Gizmo!” Laszlo shouts. He doesn’t look up from his book. Guillermo pauses in the doorway. When he looks at Laszlo, he seems very tired. Well, more tired than usual. Guillermo’s face is wet with tears, but his jaw is set.

“What.” The word is spat through gritted teeth. Laszlo is feeling particularly generous tonight, so he ignores the tone.

“Come here, boy.”

Guillermo pauses in the doorway. It’s like he’s weighing his options, whether to heed the vampire or not. The familiar eventually chooses to walk forward and stand in front of him, somewhat awkwardly. He wipes a hand under his glasses and sniffles again. Laszlo sighs, and closes his book.

“Nandor’s gone, I take it.”

Guillermo just nods, once. His lips pinch. He’s distressed, and Laszlo can guess why. If he were in the man’s shoes, he’d feel the same. He takes exactly one second to think about what he’s going to say, and decides that the consequences be damned. 

“If it matters so much, I’ll do it.”

Guillermo blinks. His eyebrows draw down in confusion. “Do what?”

Laszlo pats the loveseat cushion next to him. Guillermo’s uncertainty is deepening, but he still sits. He is staying as far away from Laszlo as possible without falling off, regarding the vampire with undisguised suspicion.

“I know you wanted Nandor,” Laszlo says, voice low. He leans somewhat closer to Guillermo, who pulls back. “But with Nandor gone, this might be your only chance.”

“Uh.” Guillermo’s round cheeks have turned red. “That’s very...nice…of you, Laszlo, but I’m not interested.”

“Come now, Gizmo,” he chides. “I know you’re interested. I’d say you’re very interested, if the last eleven years are anything to go by.”

Guillermo snaps. “I’m not going to fuck you, Laszlo.”

Laszlo straightens up, taken aback. “You thought I was coming onto you? Hell no. Although I can’t say I haven’t thought about it. Your ass reminds me of a particularly vivacious young lad I knew in the eighteen-nineties.” He shakes his head, getting off track. “No. Guillermo, I was offering to turn you into a vampire.”

Guillermo stares at him for a very long time. His heart is beating very hard, hard enough for Laszlo to hear clearly. It is a somewhat strange reaction - Laszlo had expected the familiar to break into tears of joy. Instead, Guillermo’s soft brown gaze has become unfocused, like he’s staring straight through him. “You’re...offering to turn me.”

“Yes.” Laszlo has turned hundreds. Sometimes just for fun, just because he can. It annoys a lot of other vampires, but Laszlo thinks they’re all a bit stuffy anyways. And he knows how badly Guillermo wants to be one. More badly than any of his short-lived familiars ever did, anyway. It’s the least he could do.

“Into a vampire.”

“Yes.” He tries not to sound impatient. If he got this over with, he could go back to 50 Shades without that infernal crying in the house. “Isn’t this why you’re so upset? Because Nandor left forever without turning you first?”

“I…” Guillermo trails off. He clears his throat. “Yes. It is.”

“Well.” Laszlo slaps his thighs, and scoots himself closer to the human. “Shall we, then?”

Guillermo’s heartbeat is almost distractingly loud now. Laszlo allows himself a glance at Guillermo’s soft neck, and can see the pulsing of the vein there. “O-okay,” the familiar says, his voice almost a whisper. He curls the edges of his fingers around the collar of his sweater, and pulls it to the side. He leans his head gently over, exposing the delicate column of his neck. His lips twitch, like he might smile. He doesn’t.

Laszlo leans forward. With one hand, he gently cups Guillermo’s chin. With the other, he braces on his shoulder. Laszlo holds him gently, like he would a lover. Guillermo did not deserve a violent turning. He was a good familiar, after all. He brings his face into Guillermo’s neck, hovering over the strongest portion of his pulse. The recognizable hunger that comes from being close to human blood comes over him. Laszlo breaths out and watches the goosebumps erupt over Guillermo’s brown skin.

 He doesn’t often turn someone who actually wants to be turned, but he’d found it to be a rather intimate experience. Eternal life was a gift, after all. This moment would live forever in Guillermo’s consciousness, for the rest of his earthly existence. And maybe Laszlo is a little bit of a romantic about that. Definitely turned on, anyway. He bares his fangs, and prepares to bite down into the supple flesh.

“Wait.”

Laszlo pauses and pulls back, confused. “Did you just say ‘wait’?” It made no sense. Here he was, offering the chap everything he’d ever wanted, and Guillermo wanted to wait ? “Why the fuck would you want to wait? Don’t you want to be a vampire?”

Guillermo looks down at his hands, which are balled into fists on his lap. “This isn’t right.”

Laszlo leans back further, miffed. “Here I am, trying to do you a favor, and you’re flopping like a damn fish. Do you think anyone else would fucking do this? They’d be out of their mind.”

“Look, I’m just as frustrated as you are,” Guillermo snaps. “Of course I want to be a vampire. I’ve always wanted to be a vampire.”

“So what’s the deal, then?” Laszlo asks. “You suddenly decide there’s something better? Something that means more than becoming a vampire?” The idea is almost ludicrous to him. But Guillermo can’t even meet his gaze.

“Maybe there is,” he mumbles. Without waiting for Lazlo’s response, Guillermo gets up and leaves the room. He doesn’t look back.

Laszlo shrugs and picks his book back up. He’d done his part. Maybe Guillermo didn’t want it as bad as he thought. Which was strange, because why else would he have stuck around for so long?

He chooses not to dwell on this, instead losing himself in the smut that’d been his original focus. If Guillermo changed his mind, he knew where to go. It wasn’t his problem if the familiar couldn’t recognize a gift when it was handed to him. 

Laszlo doesn’t care much for others. But sometimes, he cares a little bit.

II. Nadja

Nadja hates when people come into her life. She hates it even more when they leave.

She is extremely upset with Nandor, for more reasons than she can articulate. What comes out is a violent mix of threats and curses, which Nandor accepts with an unnerving stoicism. Still, dissuading a vampire from a super slumber is considered rude at best and downright unforgivable at worst, so she leans into Laszlo’s side and tries not to wail at the other vampire’s sudden, unexpected announcement.

They let Nandor out of the cage in the basement, so he can prepare for his hundred-year slumber. The familiar ( Guillermo , she reminds herself. She needs to be getting better at that.) is especially frazzled by the decision Nandor has made, and is currently arguing with Laszlo as to whether Nandor is even allowed to make that decision.

“I’m sorry, chap, but it’s Nandor’s choice. Even if it’s the dumbest fucking choice I’ve ever heard.”

“Which is why I’m saying this is a bad -”

“Guillermo,” Nandor orders, “Prepare my crypt.”

The familiar stares at the vampire. For a second, Nadja thinks he’s going to argue. But the look in Nandor’s eyes is hard and final. There is no trace of the softness Nadja always thought was silly and weak. But now, she finds she misses it. 

Guillermo finally looks away. His jaw is set. Nadja thinks he might cry again. Instead, he mutters a soft “Yes, Master.” and went up the stairs. Laszlo follows him shortly, saying something about writing a letter. Colin is quick on his heels, shooting Nandor a glare and a “Wow, I see how it is.”

Nandor and Nadja stand alone in the basement. He is still in his ridiculous human clothes, with their eye-bleedingly bright colors. She tries not to look at him.

“Nadja,” Nandor says, his voice still oddly serious. “I must ask something of you.”

“What?” she hisses. She’s angry that he’s going to be leaving her. Angry that he’s leaving the weight of the Vampire Council on her shoulders alone. It’s a lot of work for one person, and with him gone she wouldn’t have a scapegoat to pin her mistakes on.

“It’s about Guillermo.”

Nadja rolls her eyes. Of fucking course it is. “I’m not going to eat him.”

“I know that,” Nandor states, a trace of irritation in his tone. For some reason, this almost makes her smile. Bickering with him was what she knew. “I need you to turn him into a vampire.”

Nadja stares at him like he’s grown a second head. Nandor continues, undeterred by her incredulous expression.

“It is what he wants,” he states. He sounds tired, and more than a little bitter. “He might as well get it.”

“Are you fucking joking right now?” Nadja says. Of all the things she thought Nandor would ask of her, she’d never thought it’d be this . “Can you not be bothered to do that shit yourself?”

“I cannot,” Nandor says. “I won’t.”

“Why bloody not?” Nadja considers every new vampire that she makes to be her responsibility. She’s never forgiven her own sire for leaving her to figure everything out on her own, so why would she allow herself to do the same to a fresh little baby vampire? Not to mention, they were a lot of fucking work. And she had twice as many Council duties now. No time for little Guillermo to learn everything about being a creature of the night. “He’s your familiar.”

“Not anymore.” Nadja can easily forget how much older Nandor is than her, since she’s usually the only one in the house using the brain in her head. But right now, she can see the age behind his eyes. “I will not kill him, Nadja.”

She wants to explain that turning someone isn’t really killing them, not forever. But Nandor doesn’t appear to be in the state for that kind of argument, and she can’t muster the energy anyway.

“I don’t want him to die at all,” Nandor says, his voice trailing away into a sigh.

“We all die, Nandor,” Nadja says. It comes out with none of the usual venom, falling flat and sad like a dead bird. Nandor is focusing very intently on his scuffed shoes. She makes a half-hearted attempt to lighten the mood. “How old is Guillermo, anyway? Pretty old, don’t you think? So hard to tell with humans. He’ll just be such a crusty vampire.”

Nandor doesn’t laugh. “Will you do it or not?”

Nadja throws up her hands in annoyance. “Why do you even care so much?” she snaps, her frustration at the whole situation finally exploding out of her. “You plan on sleeping for a hundred years or more! No one will be here when you wake up!”

Nandor winces at that, but remains irritatingly resolute. “You don’t know that.”

“Urgh!” Nadja pulls on the ends of her hair. “You insufferable donkey! Don’t you understand what you’re doing? Or are you just pulling a big dramatic stunt again, like you do every week ?”

“Of course I understand what I am doing!” Nandor says, his voice rising into a shout. “I have been thinking very carefully for many hours. Do not question me.”

Nadja considers storming off, but also refuses to allow Nandor the last word. “When you wake up, every human you know will be dead. So what is the big fucking deal about Guillermo? Who gives a shit? Even if he was a vampire, it’s not like he’d stick around.” None of us would . 

Nandor sets his jaw and focuses on a spot above Nadja’s head. She hates when he does that - it means he’s ignoring her. “Then at least he will be happy.”

If he were anyone else, she would have ripped his throat out already. But this is Nandor. He might be stupid and stubborn and obscenely annoying, but he was one of hers . Nadja hasn’t had a family for five-hundred years, but what she has now might come close. And that means she wants Nandor to be happy.

Even if he’s being a complete fucking asshole about it.

“Fine,” she says, teeth bared with distaste. “I’ll do it.”

Nandor’s broad shoulders droop ever-so-slightly. “Thank you, Nadja.” They stand for a moment, somewhat awkwardly. It’s rare that they ever come to an agreement, after all.

“Whatever,” she mutters. She straightens her back, ready to march out of the basement and away from the betrayer. She also doesn’t want him to see the tears at the corners of her eyes, but that’s beside the point.

“One more thing.”

“What?” she barks out. Must he continue to drag this out? 

Nandor grimaces, like he’s about to say something embarrassing. “Could you wait until I am in my slumber before you do it?”

Nadja’s eyes narrow. “You are such chickenshit , Nandor. I already said I’d fucking do it, didn’t I?”

He doesn’t meet her eyes anymore. Nadja mutters a curse under her breath and climbs the stairs. As far as she’s concerned, Nandor could do whatever the fuck he wanted now. It wasn’t her responsibility to care.

Nadja hates when people come into her life. She hates it even more when they leave.

III. Guillermo

Guillermo had always been certain that there was one thing he wanted. Now, he isn’t so sure anymore.

Becoming a vampire had always been the goal. It was why he put up with what he did, why kept coming back again and again. At least, it had been. Unfortunately, the line had recently begun to blur a little bit.

The idea of Nandor leaving horrified him in a very unexpected way. It had seemed like an impossibility. Nandor was a creature of habit - he’d had close to the same routine for God knows how many years. He rarely made rash decisions. Guillermo was usually able to talk him down from his more dramatic proclamations, and Nandor usually listened, at least a little bit. But this time, the familiar’s pleas fell on deaf ears.

The refusal to turn him hurt.

The reason he wouldn’t was a little nice to hear, though. In Nandor’s fumbling, unflattering way.

Guillermo let Nandor go with a dull ache in his chest. He tried to tell himself that it was just disappointment, from once again missing out on his chance to achieve his one true dream. But this was different from the burning dismay he’d felt on his tenth anniversary. It felt like a loss.

He tried not to dwell on that.

And then not even ten minutes later, Laszlo offered to give him what Nandor refused to.

Once he had gotten over the initial shock of the offer (why Laszlo cared at all was beyond his understanding), Guillermo was struck with the realization that he didn’t want to immediately jump on this chance. And that was very, very strange. This was his dream. This was the reason he was here in the first place. Who cared if Nandor wasn’t the one to do the deed? All that mattered was that it was a vampire, any vampire. Fuck Nandor.

And yet, when he accepted the offer, his body was overtaken by a pervading sense of wrongness. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen. So before Laszlo’s fangs could puncture his throat, Guillermo stopped him. He could not for the life of him fathom why.

Laszlo asked (with obvious sarcasm) if there was something more important to him than becoming a vampire. And for some reason, the image of Nandor’s face jumped to the forefront of his mind. His earnest, softened expression. I’ve come to care about you .

Fuck.

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t about being a vampire after all. Maybe it hadn’t been for a while. 

Guillermo had no idea when the change had occurred. He’s almost certain it happened gradually, and completely involuntarily. He could remember very clearly how badly he’d wanted to be a vampire - it wasn’t that long ago when it’d been all he could think about. When the fuck had that turned into Nandor?

Technically he’d started realizing how out of hand it had gotten when Meg had brought it up those few months ago. But he’d quickly buried it under several layers of denial, where it would hopefully go away and not bother him anymore. Apparently, that hadn’t worked.

And so, he went and got Nandor back.

It was painful, much more painful than he expected. He’d imagined his Master lost and helpless, and when Guillermo would come to the rescue, Nandor would say, My dear, sweet Guillermo, how ever could I have left you? I was such a fool. I’ll never do it again. It was a fantasy he’d entertained several times, with many different endings. 

He never expected Nandor to be content living his deluded, mock-human life. Never expected him to be so upset with him, to accuse him of taking away the one thing that had actually made him happy in years. It hurt more than anything Nandor had ever said to him, and Nandor had said a lot .

Yet there was something screaming in Guillermo, something that made any idea of him separating from Nandor feel like the worst possible outcome. Which was crazy , because Guillermo had already tried to separate them twice already. 

Neither of which had lasted, but still.

So he pushed through the threats and the screaming, convincing himself over and over that what he was doing was for the best. It got harder after the once-constant noise of protest became silence and blank stares over the top of his head. 

And then, Nandor announced the dumbest, most dramatic decision of his immortal life. 

Guillermo wondered if his hair would turn gray of stress by the year’s end. And yet, he heeded his Master’s wishes. In the end, he really did want Nandor to get what he wanted - even if it made him feel like he was being torn in half.

After waking Nandor up once, having a very confusing conversation (for all parties), and nailing his Master’s door shut a second time, he was approached by a very unexpected presence.

He was still staring at the door, wiping an increasingly wet sleeve across his face ( tears of frustration , he told himself), when there was a light, hesitant tap on his shoulder. Guillermo glanced over, expecting an apologetic member of the documentary crew. Instead, it was Nadja. Which was significantly more surprising.

She had that terrible fake grin on her face, the one she had when she was trying very hard to be empathetic. It was not a look she pulled often on him, and it made him wary.

“Nadja,” Guillermo said, clearing his throat and looking away. She was probably about to make fun of him for crying, again. “I suppose we need to prepare for the Worldwide Vampiric Council?”

“Giz - Guillermo,” Nadja corrected herself mid-sentence, “you seem so very...sad...about Nandor.” 

Guillermo clenched his jaw. “Well, he is choosing to sleep for the rest of my life.”

“Yes, yes, very sad, indeed,” Nadja said, nodding. Guillermo wondered if she had registered a single word he’d said. She already seemed to have a point to the conversation in mind, and was going there whether or not Guillermo followed her. “Human lives are so puny and small, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” Guillermo says, clipped. He’s trying very hard not to blow up at her, because she’ll blow up right back, and he just doesn’t have the energy to deal with that right now.

“Such a shame Nandor never made you a vampire.”

That does it.

“What do you want, Nadja?” Guillermo snaps, turning on her. “You want to make fun of me? Make me cry more? Will that cheer you up?”

Nadja blinks, her lip curling back slightly. But the surprise only lasts a second, because then she’s yelling in his face, and everything feels a little bit more normal. “You think I like hearing your incessant crying? You sound like a bleating baby goat!”

“Well you might as well get used to it, because I’m not leaving anytime soon.” Guillermo crosses his arms and plants his feet, like he’s planning on posting himself at Nandor’s door for the foreseeable future. This makes Nadja let out a scream of frustration.

“This is so bloody stupid!” she spits. “If I didn’t make that damned promise then I would -” Her words devolve into a hiss, and she makes a strangling motion with her hands. Guillermo narrows his eyes at her.

“What promise?”

Nadja calms a little, adjusting the ruffle in her skirt. Her face is pinched in the same way as when she wanders into the kitchen while Guillermo microwaves his dinner. “I promised Nandor I’d make you a vampire,” she mutters, obviously displeased.

Guillermo feels his mouth drop open, but can’t gather the wits to close it. Nadja just said she was going to turn him. Because she’d promised Nandor.

“Excuse me?” he says after a moment. His voice comes out as a strangled squeak.

“Really, I don’t understand why he couldn’t just fucking do it himself,” Nadja says, flicking her hand at the barred door. “It’s such a hassle. And it’s not like I have any free time, now that he’s fucked off for good. I swear, everyone in this house is so absolutely selfish sometimes -”

Guillermo barely registers Nadja’s rant. He’s too busy thinking about how sure Nandor was that Guillermo would be around in a hundred years. More than anything, the revelation that Nandor had managed to shirk his responsibility onto Nadja annoyed him. Of course he couldn’t be fucking bothered to do just this one thing after eleven years of service. Nandor didn’t give a fuck about him, and probably never had.

“You don’t have to turn me, Nadja.”

“-and then there was the whole thing with the magic flute -” Nadja stops mid-rant as soon as the words leave Guillermo’s mouth. Her dark eyes lock on his face, eyebrows drawn down in confusion. “What did you say?”

“Don’t turn me,” Guillermo says, resolute. “I’m not going to give him the satisfaction.”

“Are you fucking joking me?” Nadja throws her hands up, exasperated. “You complain about not being a vampire all the time! I’m doing you a favor, you stupid little boy!”

“If Nandor can’t do it himself, then that’s just too bad.” Guillermo shrugs, like it doesn’t matter to him in the slightest. “I’ll just have to live out the rest of my human life, and he’ll get to run away from his responsibilities and never see me again.” 

Nadja stares at him for a long time, like she’s debating what to do next. Eventually, she shakes her head. “You are both such stubborn assholes,” she mutters. “Fine. Do what you will. If I ever see Nandor again, he can’t blame me for trying.” With a puff of smoke, she turns into a bat and flies down the hallway and out of sight.

This is the second time now that Guillermo’s one true desire has been offered to him, and the second time he’s turned it away. It hardly makes sense to him anymore. He can’t get his mind off of what Nandor’s motivation must be - why would he refuse to turn Guillermo himself but then go and ask his housemates to do it anyway? Was it because he was lazy, or careless, or still angry at him?

Nandor had been upset when he’d last been awoken. He’d brushed Guillermo off, assuming he was just trying to delay his slumber so he’d make him a vampire. And Guillermo had told him the truth: he didn’t care about it anymore. 

He just didn’t want Nandor to leave him again.

Guillermo had half a mind to tear the boards down and wake the old vampire up again, if only so he could interrogate him. But that would be reacting like someone who cared. He didn’t care at all. Not even a little bit.

He swallows and walks away from the door, and pretends he isn’t pathetically in love with the man in the room beyond it.

Guillermo had always been certain that there was one thing he wanted. Now, he isn’t so sure anymore.

IV. Nandor

Nandor is afraid of nothing. Except for a few teeny, tiny things.

He is afraid of being alone again; of everyone leaving and never coming back. It’s happened more times than he can count in his long life. It never gets easier.

He is afraid of how uncertain his future remains, and how far it stretches in front of him. It’s like a deep, dark hole, the bottom of which evades his sight.

And most of all, he is afraid of how attached to a human he’s become.

At first it was embarrassing. He hid how much he appreciated Guillermo from everyone, including himself sometimes. Nandor reiterated to anyone that would listen that he didn’t actually care if Guillermo died or not. It was just so hard to train a good familiar these days. When asked why he didn’t just turn him and get it over with, Nandor would come up with some reason or another why that just wasn’t a good idea. Guillermo had so much to learn, obviously!

There were other, much more secret reasons too. Reasons Nandor would never admit, except in the private darkness of his closed coffin. He couldn’t be certain when it started, but there were things about his familiar that stuck in his brain for a little too long. Like the sound of his heartbeat. It was strong and loud and fascinating in ways he couldn’t really explain. He’d never even thought about hearts in any context outside of hunting and eating people for a very long time. But lately, he kept getting struck with the desire to rest his head against Guillermo’s chest and listen to its constant, steady rhythm.

For vampire reasons, obviously. 

There were other things too. Silly little things, like Guillermo’s body heat (useful for cold nights, it was hard to use your hands when they were frozen like fucking rocks) and the fact that he laughed at his jokes, even after Nadja said they were stupid. And sure, maybe that whole ‘killing several vampires for him’ made him feel a strange mixture of fear and excitement he hadn’t experienced since his days of being a warlord, but there wasn’t time to unpack that.

In any case, as time went on, the idea of turning Guillermo into a vampire became less and less appealing. The reason he had convinced himself why was that he didn’t want to give up a servant so soon, especially one that was so attentive. It wasn’t because the idea of Guillermo no longer being alive unsettled him to a disturbing degree, and it definitely wasn’t because everyone he’d ever turned had left and never come back.

Not that at all.

The closest he comes to telling Guillermo the truth is when he leaves them to become human again. Nandor has come to the revelation that these conflicting feelings for his ex-familiar are actually just him being jealous, and have nothing to do with Guillermo at all, thank you very much. 

He refuses Guillermo’s plea, and with an honesty that surprises himself, Nandor tells him that it’s because he cares too much to burden him with such a curse. Guillermo cries, and Nandor is callous because they’re both much more attached than they should be. It’s not healthy, he knows that now.

Nandor expects his confusing feelings for Guillermo to go away now that he’s content with his new life. But for some reason, the human continues to make appearances in his thoughts when he least expects it. 

“I know about this!” he says to the reformed vampire sitting next to him in Human Class. Jan is telling them about HOAs. “Guillermo complains about them all the time! He said I should lead the H-O-A.” He enunciates each letter, just like Jan taught them.

“Who’s Guillermo?” the other vampire asks, tilting her head to the side.

Then Nandor remembers that Guillermo isn’t in his life anymore, and he feels sad again. “Never mind,” he says, forcing himself to focus closer on the lesson. He shouldn’t be feeling sad at all. Nadja was right - he was getting soft.

When Guillermo shows back up again, Nandor is both disappointed and relieved. He had no idea that this was something you could feel simultaneously and the experience was not one he was keen on repeating. He knew, in the back of his mind, that he could stop Guillermo. He could plant his feet and refuse to move. Nandor did not want to leave, because leaving meant going back to staring down that dark, never-ending hole that was his life. But that stupid, squishy softness he’d grown for Guillermo won out. And he hated it.

Guillermo said he did what he had to because it was what Nandor needed.

Nandor stared at the bars of the cage and wondered if what he needed was to start over. The attachment to the human had officially become a problem in his life, and if he didn’t do something about it now, it was only bound to get worse. Things tend to get away from him if he lets them go too far. 

Something tells him that Guillermo is in the same boat.

A little distance would do them some good. But since Nandor can’t stomach the thought of turning Guillermo (and thus, opening himself to the terrifying world of showing his feelings to someone) or the idea of never seeing Guillermo again, he decides to ask Nadja to do it for him. Because then it is no longer his problem, and he won’t have to think about it anymore. Not to mention the secret added plus that when he awoke from his slumber, Guillermo would still be out there, somewhere. Nadja takes it about as well as one would expect, but how could he possibly explain? She was right to call him chickenshit. 

The distance doesn’t last. Guillermo makes sure of that. Now it’s just getting annoying. Nandor made a choice, damn it! It was like that dark, uncaring universe was shoving his weakness right in his face, over and over and over again.

Then Colin Robinson dies.

Nandor deals with this very well, he thinks. He puts his uncomfortable feelings in a little box, and tucks that box away where he’ll never have to deal with it again. Along with Nadja and Laszlo, they begin the process of removing any evidence of Colin from the household. It is custom in vampire circles to mourn in this matter, and they do it with hardly a word between them. 

This does not sit well with Guillermo.

“Master, what are you doing?”

Nandor has taken a small frame off the wall of the hallway and is prying up the back, trying to get to the picture held inside. It is one of the more recent photos, from Laszlo’s 350th birthday party. The four of them are in the music room gathered around the piano. They all are wearing party hats, and smiling broadly at the photographer. Nandor’s own mouth is half-open, like he’s part way through saying something.

“Fixing the picture,” Nandor explains. He’s finally able to get the flimsy little photograph out, and holds it up to show Guillermo. “See? Colin Robinson is sitting in the armchair here. I just need to -” He goes to rip the picture, but it is swiped out of his hands before he can do so. “Hey!”

Guillermo is clutching the photograph to his chest, like it’s a precious object. “You can’t do that,” he says, defensive.

Nandor sighs. “Guillermo. Give it back.”

“No. I’m not going to let you ruin it.” Guillermo takes a step back from him, like he thinks Nandor might reach out and tear it from his hands. “It - it’s the first one I ever took of you guys where you didn’t immediately tell me to leave after. It’s important to me.”

“Guillermo, it’s just a silly picture,” Nandor says, starting to get annoyed. “How can it possibly be that important?” He knows he’s being a bit of a hypocrite. But in order to move on, Colin Robinson’s presence must be scrubbed away. Like he was never there at all.

“That’s not the point,” Guillermo says. His voice is still calm, but is starting to become strained. That’s the way it gets when he’s trying to explain something to Nandor but doesn’t think he’s understanding. It’s not a tone Nandor likes very much. “The point is that you guys are not dealing with Colin’s death in a productive way. I know these things are hard, but I think if we all just sat down and talked a little-”

“Stop talking about things you could not possibly understand,” Nandor snaps, cutting him off. “This is the vampire way, Guillermo. You wouldn’t get it because -”

“I’m not a vampire. Yeah, I know.” Guillermo is upset. He’s staring at a spot low on the wall, just past the edge of Nandor’s cape. His lips are drawn into a thin line. 

“Good.” Nandor tries to regain control of the situation, rolling his shoulders and pretending he can’t tell how unhappy Guillermo is. “Now, give me the picture.” He holds out his hand. His ex-familiar stares at it, but doesn’t move the paper from its spot against his chest. Nandor makes a warning sound. “Guillermo…”

“Why can’t you make me a vampire?”

Nandor recovers quickly from the unexpected question, pulling his lips back over his teeth in an angry snarl. “Are you seriously fucking asking me that right now? You have been so pushy lately!”

Normally, the tone that Nandor is taking would cow Guillermo into submission. Back him down into that safe corner, where nothing ever needed to change. But his ex-familiar doesn’t flinch. In fact, he takes a decisive step forward. Much to Nandor’s internal horror, he finds himself stepping back.

“I think it’s time you told me the truth.” There is none of the usual soft surrender in Guillermo’s voice. Instead, he stares at Nandor with something akin to contempt. It alights a very strange reaction deep in Nandor’s stomach, and he’s caught somewhere between horror and excitement. It’s like he’s back at the theater again, Guillermo standing before him, soaked in blood and holding himself like he has never known fear. Nandor’s certain that if his heart could beat, it’d be slamming off the walls of his ribcage. Distantly, he can hear Guillermo’s doing exactly that.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nandor deflects, trying to school his expression into nonchalance. He’s Nandor the Relentless . He’s not about to be afraid of this little human with soft hands, no matter how many times he’s seen Guillermo kill his own kind. 

“Nandor,” Guillermo says, “Enough.” Before Nandor can get a hold of his wits and angrily chastise him for speaking in such a way, Guillermo continues, “Why did you ask Nadja to turn me?”

Fuck . In all the things that had happened since then, he’d forgotten about that particular request. For the umpteenth time in his very long life, Nandor is faced with the consequences of his actions. If this were literally anyone else, Nandor would do what he usually does in this situation, which was to lie his ass off. What are you talking about? Ask Nadja to turn you? She is obviously lying, Guillermo, how could you be so gullible? Now give me that damned photograph.

But it’s Guillermo. And Nandor has a huge, rotten soft spot for him.

“I don’t want to.” The truth drags itself from his lips, hissed through clenched teeth. 

Guillermo’s dark eyes search his face. His bottom lip wobbles slightly, but he remains stoic. “And why not?”

Being faced with the reason behind his actions is a bit much for Nandor, so he reacts in the usual way: anger. “What makes you think it’s so easy?” he snarls. “You think it’s just one little bite and you get everything you ever wanted?”

“Yes!” Guillermo makes a large, dramatic gesture. “ You’re the one who’s complicating it!”

“And what happens after I turn you, hm?” Nandor’s emotions are in charge now, and he’s no longer thinking over the words leaving his mouth. “All your wishes come true, and then you fuck off somewhere and never look back!”

Guillermo’s expression immediately changes to one of surprise, and Nandor belatedly realizes that he may have said a little too much. “Wait. You think I’ll leave you?”

Nandor focuses his gaze on the picture in Guillermo’s hands. Colin Robinson’s somewhat blurry visage stares back. “Everyone does, eventually. What makes you different?” He tries to sound aloof, but it comes off as a bit sad and pitiful. 

Guillermo lets his arms fall to his side. “Master,” he says, softly, “You know I would never-”

“Give me that.” Nandor cuts him off by grabbing the photo from Guillermo’s relaxed hand. He tears it roughly in half, no longer giving a fuck whether he actually removes Colin Robinson all the way or not. He knows he’s being cruel as he shoves the two pieces into Guillermo’s chest, but he can’t let him finish his sentence. Nandor’s been coming a tad too close to a realization as of late, and he needs to stave it off by any means necessary. If that means hurting Guillermo to drive him away, so be it.

Nandor stalks away down the hallway, and pretends not to care about the pained gaze he can feel burning into his back.

For the rest of the week, Nandor avoids Guillermo as much as possible. He makes vague excuses about not needing Guillermo’s help, since he’d been released of his familiarship (something Nandor had forgotten about more than once already, but this time he plans on remaining firm). When they do speak, Nandor is curt and cold, and cuts off any attempt to bring up their argument. 

So the attachment to Guillermo might be a little deeper than he thought. No matter. He could solve this like he’d solved a lot of his largest problems: by leaving the country. It didn’t help that Nadja and Laszlo had also been more on edge lately. There was a big change coming, and Nandor wasn’t going to be left in its wake.

Nandor knows that if he scrutinizes his feelings for Guillermo enough, he’ll recognize them for what they are. So he shoves them as far down as they will go, and readies himself to tear out the reminders.

Maybe he goes a little too far, trying to distance Guillermo. It started with the best intentions. He wanted to chip at the attachment between them, to make it easier when he left. But as it goes on, Guillermo becomes more visibly frustrated. Nandor can’t help it - getting his ex-familiar all puffy and red makes him feel alive . He knows he isn’t in any real danger, since Guillermo had been hypnotized so he wouldn’t hurt them. So Nandor pushes, laying the insults on thick. For some reason, he wants to elicit some sort of reaction from Guillermo.

It works.

For the first time in eleven years, Guillermo snaps. It’s like a dam finally bursts - years worth of pent-up rage and frustration flowing forth to put Nandor in a tight, painful headlock, forcing him onto his knees. Guillermo’s hot breath against his face makes Nandor’s fangs ache. And for the first time in a while, Nandor remembers how it feels like to be himself.

Guillermo is quick, strong, and the most entertaining fight Nandor has had in at least a century, if not more. He’s having so much fun that he doesn’t care that they’re making a mess of his room. Nandor can tell Guillermo is enjoying himself too - his heart is racing in his chest, but the vampire can smell no fear. He swears he catches quick, suppressed grins wherever Guillermo has the upper hand. 

Of course Guillermo wins. The man was made to kill his kind, and Nandor is several centuries out of practice. Through the burning pain of the crucifix against his surrendering hands, the feelings Nandor has been trying to force away become undeniably clear. 

He never, ever wants Guillermo to leave his side again. Which is a very strange thing to want when your skin is being sizzled. It helps that Nandor is ridiculously turned on. 

He describes it as a test. Which it was, in a way. Neither of them had been aware of it until now, but that was beside the point. It’s like all of his fears melt away. He’s come face to face with his feelings for Guillermo, and the world didn’t end. Guillermo was still there, staring up at him with something like awe, and it makes Nandor feel like there’s something worth fighting for.

Asking someone to share the soil of your homeland with them is probably a bit of a dramatic declaration, but it feels adequate. Nandor is certain that if Lazslo or Nadja had heard his proposal, they’d have groaned and rolled their eyes. He can’t bring himself to care though, because Guillermo agrees. 

Just like that, his world feels a lot less like he’s looking down a dark, endless hole. Because now he’ll have Guillermo at his side, and he’ll never have to be alone again. It will take time to get there, he thinks. But it was nice to be getting started. Maybe attachment to the human isn’t such a bad thing, after all.

Later on, when Nandor boards a train alone, he changes his mind.

Nandor is afraid of nothing. Except a few teeny, tiny things.