Work Text:
Once upon a time, there was a vampire called Nick.
Nick lived in Canada. He was a policeman. He could only work at night.
Winter nights in Canada are really long, so that was okay.
But summer nights in Canada are really short. Nick had to solve crimes very quickly in the summer.
Nick had lots of friends.
He had a friend called Don, who got blown up in a plane. Poor Don.
He had a friend called Janette, who was very beautiful, and dressed in gowns just like a fairy princess, and liked Nick a lot in a very grown-up special way, until she underwent a radical personality change and decided to become a forest ranger.
He had a friend called LaCroix, a nasty mean man with funny hair that changed color unexpectedly. LaCroix worked for a radio station, and got lots of records for free. (His very favorite group was the Dave Clark Five, but he didn't tell anyone, ever.) LaCroix was mean to Nick, and Nick was afraid of LaCroix, but they had known each other for years and years and years, and sometimes when you know someone for a long time, that's more important than anything you might do or say to each other.
But Nick's very best friend was called Natalie. Natalie was a doctor. Her specialty was dead people, so she and Nick had a lot in common, and got along very well.
Nick and Nat liked each other a lot, in a very grown-up special way, but they couldn't get married or anything, because it would have been very bad for Nat, and then Nick would have cried and cried.
They were happy that they were friends, but sometimes during the day, tucked in their little (separate) beds, they would secretly cry and cry because they could only rent movies, and maybe hold hands during the scary parts.
LaCroix did not like Nat.
Janette did not like Nat.
Don liked Nat, but Don wasn't there anymore.
Nat was scared of LaCroix.
Nat was scared of Janette, until Janette underwent a radical personality change and decided to become a forest ranger.
Nat liked Don, but Don wasn't there anymore.
Poor Nat. Poor Nick. Poor Don.
Everything would have gone okay for everybody, eventually, except that Nick and Nat and Don and Janette and LaCroix had a big problem. It was a very scary problem.
The problem was this:
Nick and Nat and Don and LaCroix and Janette, unlike most people, did not belong to themselves.
They all lived in a television show, and even though a whole lot of real people loved them enough to make them real as well, Nick and Nat and Don and LaCroix and Janette belonged -- lock, stake, and barrel -- to a whole lot of people in suits and neckties.
Now, as everyone knows, every time you put on a suit and a necktie, the necktie chokes away a little bit of your soul. And the people who owned Nick and Nat and Don and LaCroix and Janette had been wearing neckties for years and years and years, and hardly had any souls left.
They did not care about Nick and Nat and Don and LaCroix and Janette at all.
They did not care about the real people who loved Nick and Nat and Don and LaCroix and Janette. In fact, they wanted them to go away.
They only cared about numbers, all different kinds of numbers, and getting them to add up right or, if they couldn't get the numbers to add up right, to play with the numbers so they looked like they were right, even if they weren't.
One day, the people in the suits and neckties were given a whole bunch of numbers. Some of them were right. Some of them were wrong. Actually a lot of them were wrong.
The only way they could get the numbers to look right, even though they weren't, was to get rid of Nick and Nat and Don and LaCroix and Janette, and hope that no one noticed.
Of course, the real people who loved Nick and Nat and Don and LaCroix and Janette noticed immediately. They tried very hard to point out that, perhaps, a mistake had been made.
The people in the suits and neckties didn't listen, or pretended not to listen. People in suits and neckties often have selective hearing, the same way that dogs and small children do.
They made Nick and Nat and Don and LaCroix and Janette do terrible things to each other, worse than the worst nightmare you've ever had -- worse even than the thing that lives under your bed that will pull you underneath forever if you don't cover up your bare feet and hands, or the bugs that live behind the washing machine in the darkest part of the basement.
Then -- and I'm afraid this is very bad, and I'm sorry you have to read it -- the people in the suits and neckties made Nick and Nat and Don and LaCroix and Janette go away for ever and ever.
Or so they thought.
But they had forgotten the real people who loved Nick and Nat and Don and LaCroix and Janette very much, and who didn't give a stuff for neckties or numbers.
There were lots and lots of them. There was Susan, and Mary, and Ophelia, and Bea, and Jennie, and Sharon, and Sharon's monkeys, and Barbara, and Amy, and Karen, and Mo, and (grudgingly) Ann, and hundreds and hundreds more besides.
And so something wonderful happened.
Suddenly there were hundreds and hundreds of Nicks and Nats and Dons and LaCroixs and Janettes, living in hundreds and hundreds of hearts everywhere. And all of them got to be in stories, and poems, and drawings, and games, and costumes, and daydreams, and they were happier than they had ever been. They belonged to themselves now, and were more than happy to share, because they were free, and could do anything they liked.
Sometimes Nick gets to go out in the sunlight.
Sometimes Nat and Nick get to do really grown-up special things, and are very happy.
Sometimes Don gets better and comes back, or never had to leave at all.
Sometimes Janette comes to her senses, and wears her beautiful gowns again, and has a fine time.
LaCroix is still not a very nice man, but the world is a more interesting place for having him. Sometimes he gets exactly what he deserves. Sometimes he gets to have his own particular very grown-up special kind of fun. (And he rescued his Dave Clark Five albums from a dumpster in an alley off Yonge Street in Toronto, and plays them when no one's watching, so he's very happy, no matter what.)
The people in suits and neckties are still out there, but no one cares about them at all.
And that's the end.
Except...
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