Chapter Text
Dennis couldn't have asked for a better opportunity. It came at the beginning of his internal medicine rotation. Expired blood bags. He tried to be casual about it when he offered to take them to the biohazard disposal. As far as he could tell, he managed it. No one questioned him at least.
After that it was so easy to just slip a couple under his scrubs, then stash them in his locker to wait until his shift was over. Once it was, he stayed long enough to drink them in the limited privacy of a bathroom stall, then dispose of the remains in a biohazard waste receptacle that contained other used blood bags.
They didn't taste good, but neither did any of the animal blood he'd eaten lately. If not for his last year studying theology, when he'd drank from a couple of hookups, he'd be forced to assume that all blood was just as rancid when he was a vampire as it would've been if he was still human. It seemed expired blood was deemed expired for a reason. Well, that or it was the additives. He'd certainly never stolen non-expired blood bags, so he didn't have anything to compare the taste to.
Unfortunately, he quickly started to realize that maybe the opportunity was not one he should've taken.
Dennis felt his stomach cramp yet again as he hunkered down on a bench at the nearby park.
He hadn't even made it to one of his usual shelters before the grumbling in his stomach had started. He was well used to hunger and he knew this was something different. In fact, it felt a lot like the food poisoning he'd gotten a few years ago, back when he was still human. He didn't know he could still get sick.
His stomach started cramping harder and suddenly he found himself doubled-down with nausea and pain.
A concerned woman slowed down from her jog and approached him.
"Are you okay?" she asked him with clear concern in her voice.
Dennis opened his mouth to assure her that he was fine, but instead he felt something rise in his throat. He panicked, trying and failing to hold it back. Blood (the only thing he'd eaten—the only thing he ever ate nowadays) forced its way out of his stomach, through his windpipe, and onto the ground in front of him.
"Oh my god!" the woman exclaimed. She quickly grabbed her phone out of her pocket and started tapping on it.
Dennis tried to tell her to stop, that he's fine, really, but he heaved and more blood came out.
"Hello operator? I need an ambulance!"
The woman said more, but Dennis could no longer tell what she was saying. His vision started to fade slowly to black, and the noise around him became muffled. He realized he was about to faint, but could do nothing to stop or prepare for it beyond rather gracelessly sinking fully to the ground.
He woke up to find himself face-down on the ground, next to the blood he'd vomited up before passing out. The woman was knelt down next to him, phone to her ear. He knew he couldn't go to the ER, that they'd realize he wasn't human, but he also didn't know what he could do about it at this point. His vision was still swimming, and the pain in his abdomen had only dulled slightly from the adrenaline. There was no way he could successfully flee the scene.
He decided it was a problem for future him, and instead focused on trying not to vomit or faint again.
It wasn't long before he was loaded onto a stretcher. He figured there was probably an ambulance leaving the hospital right around the time 9-1-1 was called for them to have gotten to him so quickly. Then again, he wasn't 100% sure how long he was unconscious (he really hoped no more than a second or two. More than that and he'd really have to worry).
The EMTs started asking their standard questions, one talking to him as he loaded him into the back, the other talking to the witness.
He answered as truthfully as he felt comfortable doing. No, he hadn't experienced any falls or trauma other than his slump to the ground when he fainted. Yes, the symptoms just started. Cramping and vomiting. No, he doesn't remember ingesting anything that might have pierced or lodged inside his digestive tract. Yes, he does have a suspicion that it's food poisoning.
The one he was talking to tried to get his vitals. He yanked his arm away and moaned.
"Sorry, sorry, bad cramps," he lied behind gritted teeth as he curled into himself, holding his arms around his stomach and away from the EMT.
"We're right next to the hospital, they can check them there right? I'm actually a student doctor there."
He threw that last sentence in on the off-chance it would get the EMT he was talking to to trust him to relay his own symptoms.
"Yep, heading there now," the EMT said as the other shut the back doors and the ambulance started.
It took less than a minute for the ambulance to reach the ambulance entrance at PTMC. A short enough amount of time that the EMT talking to Dennis didn't fight him about checking his pulse. He did try checking Dennis's temperature, and grumbled "of course this thing would crap out" when it didn't give a reasonable reading.
Oh Dennis was so fucked.
He had checked his vitals in the past out of curiosity. His temperature, pulse, and blood pressure were lower than any living human's could be. He thought he usually did a good job of miming a regular breathing pattern, but there wasn't much he could do about those.
Dennis listened as the EMT presented him to the first doctor to approach.
"Dennis Whitaker. Started vomiting blood and lost consciousness for a few seconds approximately 10 minutes ago. Says he works here."
The doctor didn't say anything about the lack of information on his blood pressure.
"We'll take him from here."
It wasn't someone Dennis had seen before, but that wasn't too surprising. He didn't think he'd met or otherwise run into anyone from the ER yet while doing his rotations at PTMC.
A nurse wheeled him into one of the rooms as the doctor stayed behind to discuss something with the EMTs. Dennis thanked his stars that this happened at night, and that the ER wasn't so busy that they made him wait in the hallway.
Dennis still had his arms wrapped around himself and took a moment to think. He couldn’t keep them from figuring out something was wrong (well, something beyond just vomiting blood) for much longer. He never should've revealed that he worked here. Now they would remember him if he left, but he also didn't have any ideas other than making a break for it.
The nurse tried to take his temperature. He could tell it failed to give a normal reading when she frowned, but she didn't say anything out loud about it.
"Can you give me your arm so I can get some readings?" she asked gently.
"Hurts," he moaned, clutching his stomach tighter, hoping to delay the inevitable.
She looked at him and seemed to come to a decision.
"I'll be right back, I need to grab a new thermometer. You'll be okay for a second, right?"
"Yeah. It hurts a lot, but I'm pretty sure it's just food poisoning. I've had it before," he fudged the truth a bit.
The instant she left he launched himself off of the gurney.
He wasn't feeling great, but he thought he could at least make it out of the ER.
He glanced through the window and checked that no one appeared to be looking his way. Everyone seemed as busy as they'd get, and he didn't want to lose his only chance, so he quietly opened the door and tried walking away.
He just reached the door to the room two down from his (and two away from the exit door), when the door to said room opened and a male doctor stepped out in front of him, practically running into him.
"Oh! Didn't expect you right outside the door. Can I help you?"
He had short, curly hair that was just starting to go gray, which was the only thing Dennis had time to notice before his brain caught up and he panicked.
"I was just leaving," he stated in a way that he just knew sounded guilty.
"Uh huh." The doctor looked at Dennis's shirt, and Dennis looked down at it too, following the man's line of sight. There was a very visible splotch of blood on his shirt.
"Oh...that was just..." Dennis didn't have a convincing lie. He was so fucked.
The doctor looked up and past him, seemed to see what he was looking for, and then said, "Why don't we go back to the room we have prepared for you?"
He put his hand on Dennis's back, turned him around, and led him back into his room. He shut the door behind the both of them once they were inside.
"Now, why don't you have a seat and tell me why you were trying to leave?"
"I don't have insurance," Dennis tried. It was actually true, and Dennis hoped the truth of it would somehow show on his face.
"That's alright, lots of people come in here without insurance. We'll work with you and figure something out. The important thing is to make sure you're okay."
Dennis hadn't worked in the ER yet, but he already knew that was exactly the sort of thing he'd say to a patient in a similar scenario.
"Look, I'm going to be honest. I just really need to get out of here."
"I'm sure you feel that way, but don't worry, we'll take care of you. That's just the anxiety talking."
Dennis knew they wouldn't physically stop him if he tried to leave—that he could sign a refusal of treatment form and be home free—but he also knew that wasn't a good option when they knew he worked there, they had a record of who he was, and worst of all, that he would be back at this very ER soon enough for a rotation. He also had to admit that he might actually need help at this point—he was still feeling very sick and more than a little faint.
He could really only think of one option that currently made sense to him.
"I...look, this is really hard to explain. I—”
Before he could finish his statement, the nurse came back into the room with a new thermometer and the doctor that had been talking to the EMTs.
"Oh, Dr. Abbot! I'm sorry I left him unattended, I just needed a new thermometer."
"That's alright." Dr. Abbot seemed to take note of Dennis's even more panicked face. "I'm going to talk to Mr...."
"Whitaker."
"Mr. Whitaker in private for a bit. I'll take over from here." He reached his hand out to take the thermometer from her. "Why don't you go ahead and check on Mrs. Baker? I've got things covered here for now."
The nurse shot him a confused look but handed over the thermometer and exited the room, shutting the door quietly behind her. The doctor arched her eyebrow but quickly launched into a rundown of everything she'd learned from the EMTs before making her own exit.
"Now, you were saying?" Dr. Abbot prompted.
"Go ahead and take my vitals."
Dr. Abbot frowned at him, clearly confused but willing to wait for answers. He placed a pulse oximeter on Dennis's finger and rested the thermometer against Dennis's forehead. He frowned even further at the readings.
"It doesn't make sense does it?" Dennis said.
"No, it does not." Dr. Abbot waited, watching Dennis's face closely.
"I'm a vampire."
"Very funny kid. Did Robby put you up to this? I'm not sure how you tampered with the equipment, but I admire your dedication to details."
"I don't know who that is. I really, really wish this was all an elaborate prank, but it's not."
Dennis wasn't exactly invested in Dr. Abbot believing him. He really just wanted to stop feeling queasy and be able to leave, but he figured that was contingent on Dr. Abbot believing him. Well, on second thought, maybe he could've left if he'd played it off like this was all just an elaborate prank set up by whoever Robby was. Too bad he was always so bad at lying. Maybe if he was more practiced at lying he would've taken the golden opportunity in front of him when it was presented instead of immediately destroying it. It also probably would've helped if he felt a little less out of it and could think a little more clearly.
Dr. Abbot gently grabbed his wrist and placed a finger against it, presumably to check his pulse. He went back to frowning.
"Alright kid, wait here, I'll be right back."
He stepped outside the room and Dennis could see him grab a nurse and stationed said nurse right outside the door.
It didn't take long for him to return holding another thermometer. He said something else to the nurse who walked away. Then, he slipped into the room and shut the door behind himself.
Dennis didn't bother saying anything. He didn't really know what there was to say. He just watched silently as Dr. Abbot tried taking his temperature again.
This time after he frowned, Dr. Abbot turned the thermometer around on himself and tried taking his own temperature. Dennis could see it read a perfectly normal 98.2°F.
"Not faulty then,” Dr. Abbot stated as he looked at the temperature reading.
He tried it on Dennis one more time. He didn't say anything as he checked the reading again, but his frown said plenty.
He walked over to the computer and scanned his badge to unlock it.
"What's your first name Mr. Whitaker?"
"Dennis."
Dr. Abbot typed it in. "Date of birth?"
Dennis gave it to him.
"Ah, I have your record here." Dennis heard the mouse click.
"Wait, you're a student doctor here?"
Dennis sighed. "Yeah. Internal medicine."
"Interesting." Dennis watched him scan through his file, which he did without further comment.
"Why don't you tell me why you're here,” Dr. Abbot prompted.
Dennis had already resigned himself to admitting that he was a vampire, but he sure as hell wasn't admitting he stole expired blood from the hospital.
"I was turned into a vampire a few years ago. I don't eat human blood so it can be difficult keeping fed. I tried to eat something I shouldn't, and it caused me to throw up. Since my diet consists entirely of blood, that's what came up, which of course panicked the woman who witnessed it. She called 9-1-1, and the EMTs brought me here."
Dr. Abbot studied him.
"Any other symptoms?"
"Stomach cramps and light-headedness. I also fainted."
Dr. Abbot zeroed in on that, even though he'd already had the basics relayed to him by the other doctor.
"Do you remember whether you hit your head? Tell me exactly what you remember." As he talked, he shined a light in Dennis's eyes, then examined his head for any potential injuries.
"I was standing, but I managed to sink down to my knees while I was still conscious. I'm pretty sure I didn't hit my head. The woman who called 9-1-1 also told the EMTs it didn't look like I did.”
Dr. Abbot finished his head exam, then asked "what exactly did you eat?"
"Rat blood. I'm guessing the rat had gotten into some sort of poison." He hoped this lie sounded more believable than his lies usually did. He'd at least had a moment to prepare it.
"This isn't something you've experienced before?"
"No. Not as a vampire at least. I've had food poisoning before when I was still human." He could feel himself cringe at those last few words. He couldn't consider himself human anymore, but it still stung to look at too closely. He thought it probably always would.
"Alright kid, you keep saying that but wonky vitals doesn't necessarily prove anything."
Unfortunately Dennis's body chooses that moment to make him regret his every decision once again. He had just enough time to turn away from Dr. Abbot before he vomited up more blood.
"Jesus."
Dennis heard Dr. Abbot run to the door.
"I need a bag of A Pos in here now!"
Presumably he'd read the blood type off of Dennis's medical records. Dennis had made sure PTMC had copies of all of his medical records from his time in Nebraska, before he'd been turned into a vampire.
Dennis tried to fight the nausea back down and distracted himself by watching Dr. Abbot. The man inserted an IV line into him and set things up for a blood transfusion.
That was one experiment he hadn't had an opportunity to try on himself. He wasn't really sure what would happen if he got a blood transfusion.
A different nurse from the ones he'd seen before came running in with the bag of blood.
"Thank you. I'll take it from here." Dr. Abbot told her. She hesitated, but did leave.
"Why'd you send her away?" Dennis's voice sounded rough to his own ears.
"I'm not sure what exactly is going on with you, but I do know I don't want to have to try to justify giving you a blood transfusion without any sort of monitoring devices set up.”
"Wait, wait! I'm not sure what'll happen if you try to give me a blood transfusion."
"You have five seconds to prove to me you're an actual, real life vampire before I set up the transfusion you clearly need."
Dennis opened his mouth and forced his fangs to slide down. It was something that happened naturally when he went to feed, but it took him a second to figure out the right muscle to move when he wasn't just relying on instinct. Still, he managed to do it, and if he had any doubts on whether he had, they'd have been assuaged by the look on Dr. Abbot's face.
The man stared into his mouth with wide eyes and swallowed a couple of times. Dennis could actually see visible sweat appearing on his forehead.
"Well then. Maybe you really were telling the truth." He sat (well, stood) with that knowledge for just a second.
"Believe it or not, I haven't been trained in vampire medicine. You're more of an expert here than I am. What do you think we should do?"
Dennis blinked at him. He wasn't really sure what he'd been expecting, but for some reason the man going right back into doctor mode wasn't it.
"Ondansetron?" he suggested.
"Medicine works on you?"
"I haven't extensively tested it, but I know Aspirin does at least."
"Alright, we'll try that."
Dr. Abbot quickly exited the room, then returned shortly with a vial.
"Anything I need to know about before giving you a shot?"
"Not that I'm aware of."
Dennis was still slightly hunched over from the cramps and nausea, but he laid his arm out on the gurney railing for Dr. Abbot to reach. Dr. Abbot pulled over a stool, gave him the shot, and then sat there for a moment, clearly trying to wrap his mind around things.
Dennis was content to just sit there and hope the Zofran actually worked. He was tired of talking. In fact, he was just plain tired. And in pain. And nauseous.
Dr. Abbot wheeled his stool over to the room's computer and began typing.
"I'm going to log this as signs of food poisoning. Vitals normal. No sign of head trauma from fainting."
Dennis nodded to show his understanding. "Thanks."
He typed for a bit, then stood. "Now Mr. Whitaker. Dennis. I have other patients to check on. Will you promise me that you'll stay here for the next 30 minutes?"
"Yes." His secret was already out. There wasn't much point in leaving right now. He might as well enjoy lying on an actual bed while he could.
"Good." Dr. Abbot logged out of the terminal, then exited the room with a "see you in half an hour."
Despite all the excitement, Dennis could already feel himself tiring out. It didn't take long before he fell into a light slumber, though one occasionally punctuated with a few sharp cramps in his digestive system.
~~
He woke to Dr. Abbot's hand on his shoulder.
"I take it this means you're feeling less nauseous?"
Dennis took a second to take stock of himself. "Yeah. I think the medicine's working."
"Glad to hear it."
Dr. Abbot glanced at the blood bag, still hanging on the rack and ready to be attached to an IV.
"I've gotta say, I wasn't expecting this to still be here."
"What?" Dennis was confused for a second. "Wait, you think I'd steal blood?!"
"It was meant to be a transfusion for you. I'm not sure drinking it now would really count as stealing." Dr. Abbot actually said that with a slight upturn in the corner of his mouth.
"I...I'm not comfortable with that. Wait, do you think that's why I studied medicine? I'm not here for blood. I would never take blood that could be used for a patient." He started to work himself into a panic. Of course that was what someone would think when they learned a vampire was working in a hospital.
"Good. Glad to hear that. Really glad. That said, you're currently a patient here. And this blood is for a patient: Dennis Whitaker."
"Ah." He tried to relax. "I appreciate it, but I really don't need—"
"Kid, you told me you tried eating a poisoned rat because you needed food. Now, you've vomited up more blood than I would've guessed you had in you. You can't tell me you don't need something to eat."
"I, well…”
Something seemed to occur to Dr. Abbot. "Wait, have you never had human blood before? Are you worried about the effect?"
Once again Dennis was given an out and he bulldozed right over it. "No, I've had human blood. That is…I mean…I don't take blood from humans currently. But I tried some from a couple of willing donors back when I was studying theology..." he trailed off, unsure how to explain from there.
"And now?"
"Now I don't have any willing donors. So, like I said before, I've been drinking animal blood."
"Well, I'm glad to hear that, especially since that means I don't need to immediately report you, but it still doesn't solve our current dilemma. You're my patient, and I need to get you healthy again. Also, if you think I'm putting this blood bag back in storage after it’s been out in room temperature for this long, you might need to study a little harder in school or take health and safety lessons a little more seriously."
Dennis hadn't even thought about that. The blood wasn't good for anyone else anymore, but was a hell of a lot less risky than the expired blood he'd consumed that had presumably caused this whole mess.
"Um, okay,” he agreed, still hesitantly.
"Here you go. Blood's not getting any fresher, and you seem to be done vomiting for now."
Dr. Abbot handed Dennis the bag.
"Uh thanks...are you just going to watch?" Dennis asked nervously.
"Yep." Dr. Abbot stared him down, grinning.
"Oh." He was pretty sure if he had any blood left in his system he'd be blushing. No one had ever really watched him feed before. It felt wrong. Even the one-night stands had had their eyes closed.
Dennis bit the tube at the top and used it a bit like a straw. He took a few slow, short gulps, trying to gauge whether it would make him sick again.
Dr. Abbot watched with clear interest. "Any nausea coming back?"
"Not yet."
He waited a few more seconds before drinking any more, trying to really listen to his body. He actually thought he felt better after those few sips. He took a few more.
As the blood started to travel through his body, he could feel a change. It had been so long since he'd fed on human blood that he'd forgotten his vampiric body could have accelerated healing. He lost any inhibitions as his hunger began to return at full force. He drained the bag dry in under 10 seconds, then collapsed back onto the hospital gurney, finally feeling close to his normal self.
"Thanks. I feel a lot better."
"You look a lot better. I swear I can actually see color actively returning to your face."
Dr. Abbot had walked closer and was now leaning over him, studying him intently.
"Aren't you scared?" Dennis couldn't help but ask as the man peered closely at him.
He'd fudged the truth about his willing donors in his previous life. They'd been willing only because they'd been drunk and hadn't quite realized what he was or what sort of danger they were theoretically in. Dennis was certain that anyone in their right mind would be at least a little afraid of him.
"Of what?" Dr. Abbot asked. His eyes scanned over Dennis's body in clear fascination.
"Of...never mind." If the man wasn't afraid, there was no reason for Dennis to try to convince him to be.
"You should stay for at least another hour to be safe. In the meantime I'll get you a prescription for Ondansetron for the next few days."
"Okay."
Dr. Abbot grabbed a business card out of his breast pocket and wrote something on it.
"Here, my personal cell number. If we discharge you and the nausea comes back, or you feel light-headed, or you have any other problems, call me."
Dennis blinked at him. He was still new to all of this, but he didn't think doctors usually gave out their personal cell numbers to patients. Even if they were technically sort of co-workers.
"Thank you."
"No problem. Don't need a repeat of this whole fiasco."
"I could certainly do without that."
Dr. Abbot nodded his head in agreement. "Get some rest. I'll be back to check on you later. If you're still feeling alright, we'll release you."
"Sounds good."
~~
Dennis did fall asleep again. He wasn't sure if it was from the Zofran (known to cause drowsiness), his general lack of sleep, or his body's way of healing from the food poisoning, but whatever caused it, he was grateful to actually get some rest. He knew that was usually rare in the hospital, and even more so in the ER. He supposed his stretch of homelessness had helped prepare him for sleeping through various noises.
When he woke, he realized he wasn't sure exactly how much time had passed. It didn't really matter. Dr. Abbot was there and he asked if Dennis was still feeling back to normal. He was, so he was released, Zofran prescription and Dr. Abbot's business card in hand.
This was the first time someone had actually found out what he was, and it had gone much better than he could've imagined. He stared at the business card once he'd stepped outside. He felt like he actually might have someone at his side for the first time since he was turned. Someone he could go to for help. Not that he was intending on needing help, but the thought comforted him nonetheless.
~~
The next time Dennis saw Dr. Abbot was during the absolute chaos of the PittFest shooting.
He'd kept the man's business card in his bag, along with the rest of his meager possessions, ready to use it if he ever needed to, but he had never needed to.
When Dr. Abbot came in early to help treat the casualties, he'd made eye contact with Dennis and nodded his head in acknowledgment, Dennis had nodded back, and then they'd gotten to work on the mass chaos in front of them. That had been the extent of their non-work related acknowledgment of each other.
Dennis was worried that once the ER returned to a normal level of operations that Dr. Abbot would do something. He’d heard whispers of Dr. Abbot going to meet Dr. Robby on the roof and he feared that now his time had finally come, but when he had next seen the men neither of them had even glanced at him. When Dr. Robby did eventually pull him aside, it was entirely to make sure Dennis kept Dr. Robby's breakdown a secret, with no mention of Dennis having a secret of his own. Dr. Abbot seemingly hadn't ratted him out.
Dennis really, really hoped this meant that Dr. Abbot at least trusted him enough not to do anything to ruin his rotation (or worse, his entire medical career). He could only hope nothing changed his mind.