A/N: Ahh! Crazy that this didn't take as long as I thought. Hope you enjoy. This chapter's all about Elliot, and it's been awhile since we had one of those. I keep taking crazy breaks from writing, but I'm hoping the next will be up within the week.

Chapter Thirteen - Under the Lights

He could hear the dull thuds before he was anywhere near the place. Reverberating through the cement and brick walls bass throbbed. The few lone wolf smokers outside shuffled, puffs of cigarette smoke curling and flowing above their heads as they moved unconsciously to the beat provided from the club inside. Elliot followed Kris and Gabby who were about ten steps ahead. Kris was bundled up in a long, dark trench coat with dress pants and shoes. He was still dressed from work that day, and was feeling tired from the caseload dropped in his lap - another detective had had to be assigned to the squadron because of a mass rape in a biker bar near Alphabet City. Elliot was glad he was off - hated the gang cases like that. Never knew when to stop looking over your shoulder. His eyes flickered over Gabby in appreciation at her get up - tight skirt with too many zippers and ringlets in a poisonous green plaid, tight, gothic leggings and tall boots. Her top - a black corset - was hidden beneath a very gothic coat that hugged her waist hard and was covered with chains. He wondered how she'd fight with that on, and he was marvelling over how she had her tools of the trade hidden away in that skimpy, tight jacket. He supposed the boots were hiding them, and wondered if George would be mad at him for looking at her butt, and what his policy on window shopping was.

He was dressed casually. He had a flashlight concealed in one arm and a way-too-heavy steel, wooden cored stake in his other, and his sidearm pressing uncomfortably in the small of his back. The entire day had been nothing but getting the crap kicked out of him by Gabby, but once he'd shown he wasn't entirely afraid of hitting a girl he'd made progress in leaps instead of stumbles. Now he was covered with bruises and his head gave the occasional throb, but he'd taken some Tylenol and was trying to focus. Really.

The night was beaten back a little by the neon signs and the orange lights. George was out there somewhere in a foul mood. He hadn't been able to say why he came home early from work, but he had shown up and borrowed him from Gabby for an hour. Some of the bruises were from him and their hard love-making, and his chest was aching from a sharp bite that was stinging from the antiseptic filling.

"Elliot," Kris called.

He shook his head and jogged to catch up. Kris and Gabby disappeared down a very narrow alley light with white lights. He followed, glancing at the filth encrusted ground. Gum, spit, cigarette butts and pigeon shit. He wondered when the last time someone had cleaned it up. Up a small set of stairs the green lights light up two entrances with massive bouncers glaring down at them.

Kris stepped past the first bouncer and went to the further door. "Tickets?" rumbled the six foot seven, four hundred pound behemoth in a tight black "STAFF" shirt. Kris motioned him close. They had a whispered conversation that Elliot couldn't hear and the huge man nodded, the green lights making his sweaty, bald head glisten sickly.

He let the three of them pass. Another security guard watched them but didn't pat them down. Gabby's hair - now a shiny new purple - seemed to pulse in the light. The dull throbs of bass had turned sharpened. Now guitars and bass and the crash of drums and symbols surrounded everything. A heavy metal band thrashed it out on the stage of the club, long hair flying and the lead singer cried into his mike. Elliot was thankful for the tip-off on earplugs.

"High in the sky, Where eagles fly!"

A mass of bodies nodded, stomped, jumped and moshed to the music. Some pumped their fists in the air and some were a jumble of elbows and kicks as they thrashed, screaming into the air. Cigarette and marijuana smoke mixed in the air with the smells of sweat and alcohol.

"Morgray the dark, Enters the throne!"

Elliot remembered the warning from Kris earlier as he manoeuvred the throng.

"This guy is a mosquito," he said. "When we get them we're looking for a skinny, average height kid that's biting the necks of whomever is dancing there - he's a leech, but also a well of information. Since he just picks around I let him live in exchange for information. I know it's gross, but he has connections to the rest of the underworld that I need. We'll threaten him a bit and he'll spill whatever we need to know. And look out - you'll smell nice to him."

"Open wide the gate, friend. The king will come, blow the horn and praise the highest Lord!"

Sweat soaked and crazed the crowd thrashed and screamed under the pulsing lights. Elliot craned his neck back and fourth looking for someone who screamed "vampire!" when he looked at them. Red to blue, red to green, the blood coloured walls and glass flickered. When he stared at a glass window the backs of the lights created demon eyes, a crowd of shadows whose eyes blinked and disappeared, watching the humans dance in their court. Elliot shuddered.

"Who'll bring the dawn. He's the new god, In the palace of steel! Persuade the fate of everyone, The chaos can begin. Let it in!"

Gabby was chatting up the bartender and Kris was shoving through the crowd, his fierce eyes flicking back and forth. Elliot joined the fight, pushing through the bodies, eyes wary for an attack or for someone being preyed on.

"So many centuries, So many Gods, We were the prisoners of our own fantasy. But now we are marching, Against these Gods! I'm the wizard, I will change it all!"

He was skimming his eyes over a couple making out when he noticed they were the least likely couple imaginable - a heavy, six and a half foot man with long, draping hair and a beard was kneeling and a skinny, extremely pale skinned man had nestled his face almost tenderly into his neck. The crowd began to roar, singing along with the band.

"VALHALLA! DELIVERANCE! WHY HAVE YOU EVER FORGOTTEN ME?"

Elliot pulled out the flashlight and aimed a kick at his shoulder. He grunted - it was like kicking a sack of rocks. The kid flailed back, a few drops of blood sprayed out. Kris was elbowing his way through the crazed audience. Gabby was lightly dodging the thrashing people towards him.

His skin glowed luminescent in the pulsing lights. His eyes were red - blood red. Elliot's heart thudded. The heavy victim hit the ground but Gabby had already made it to his side and produced a small tube of antiseptic filler.

Elliot had more important things to worry about. The vampire was once eighteen and was wearing a torn, faded Iron Maiden T-shirt, long hair pulled back into a ponytail. He had bared his teeth and flung himself at him, fangs glinting in the lights. The heavy bodies pushed, oblivious. Elliot absorbed the pounce and body checked him into the wall. He clenched his flashlight in one hand and brought it up, clicking on the switch. The UV beam hit one pale, exposed arm and he screeched, his body seizing up. Elliot winced at the smell of burning - a mixture of sulphur and burning hair as his skin turned into charcoal.

Elliot pinned him, flicking the switch off, focusing the flashlight on his face but not turning it on. Kris was at his other side. Gabby was shielding them as best she could as several staff members pulled the victim away. The bouncers didn't look at the two of them, and the dancers were too absorbed in the song.

"Hello Mosquito? Or is it Elser? Or Diedrich, I'm sorry I'm not caught up," Kris yelled over the roar of the guitars.

Elliot glanced around nervously at the people thumping and dancing around. A few people had turned to stare. Security came around and waved people away. Elliot wondered how much Kris was paying them.

"Sh-shut it Brown, I'm allowed to feed here!"

Elliot was surprised by the teenage, nasal voice that came from him. He was expecting something more sinister.

"When I let you. You're disgusting, you know that?"

"So you tell me. What do you want to know? And get that damn light out of my face!"

At a nod from Kris Elliot relaxed his grip. The vampire was weaker than George but Elliot had the feeling that it would take very little force for it to snap one of his arms. He lowered the flashlight.

"So what do we call you tonight, leech?" Kris asked.

He glowered. "I've taken a more modern name. Brian."

Elliot noticed a hint of a German accent. He wondered how hold he was.

"Let's take it somewhere quiet," Kris offered, gripping Brian's arm and pulling him towards the bar at the back, away from the ground floor and the mosh pit. Gabby followed close behind, her eyes flickering at the bystanders, looking for danger.

The bar was religious themed - Ohm's, crosses, ahnk's, the crescent moon, the Star of David, even strangely enough FPS were displayed all over the walls. The booths were plywood, maybe getting reupholstered. Kris shoved Brian into the corner of one and sat down next to him. Elliot slid in across from him and Gabby stood a short ways away, still looking for danger.

Brian glared at Elliot. "You smell too good to be allowed," he said, a hint of a snarl on his voice.

"Thank you?" he said. He clicked the flashlight on the table, lighting a spot next to his hand. Brian flinched and pulled his hand back.

"I said I'd cooperate, now I'm cooperating!" he complained. "Put that damn thing away!"

Kris shook his head at Elliot and turned in his seat. "I need any information you can give me on a possible Ancient in New York. We've got three listed in our archives and I want to know if there's any on the down low. Blonde hair, gold eyes, meticulous, control freak, likes men."

Brian's stare never wavered from Elliot. His fangs were still out. Elliot knew where his mind was.

"You mean the one who's been eating Schweine?" asked Brian.

"Yes."

"Hmm... let me think. Blonde hair, gold eyes... he nibbled on the psychiatrist didn't he? The Chinaman?"

Elliot swallowed hard, his hand clenched. He very much wanted to shine the light on the bastards face. Kris shook his head again.

"Yes."

Brian played with a leftover plastic cup. "Who are your recorded Ancients?"

"Gabriel Eastwyke, Yoshiro Yamasuta, and Petra Herrman."

Brian crushed the cup. His stare never wavered. "I haven't fed in awhile. He smells so mouthwatering. Let me trinken."

Kris punched him solidly in the side of the head. Elliot didn't think it hurt, but Brian flinched anyway.

"Just a bite. For the information you want?"

"You'll give it to me so I don't turn you to ash where you sit," said Kris. There was a metallic thud. The tip of a stake slipped onto the table, peeping threateningly out of Kris's coat sleeve.

Brian gulped. He seemed to be calculating the odds of survival now. His eyes flickered back and forth between them now, but his gaze held on Kris.

"His real name is Soren Alrik, he's from Scandanavia. He hails from the early fifteen hunderds, I think. He has other names. He prefers to be called Master. He has a servant, a big brick of a man named Thomas, smells like that guy," he tossed his head at Elliot. "I've never heard him called by his real name, nor by his alias's. I'm not aware of what his current name is, although his last one was Faulkner."

Kris smiled. "Wasn't so hard. You're sure this is the guy?"

Brian nodded, rubbing hard on the crook of his elbow. The ash began to flake off revealing the pale Kevlar skin beneath.

A light concealed in Kris's coat flashed on, lighting up on Brian's left arm this time. There was another acrid flash of smoke and Elliot leaned back in distaste. Brian yelled in pain, but the few patrons who weren't dancing were drunk and stoned out of their mind and didn't approach. The bartender looked as though he was used to this. Elliot wondered how much they knew.

"For christ's sake, Brown I TOLD YOU EVERYTHING!"

Kris punched Brian soundly again, reinforcing the food chain, and slipped out of the booth. He went over to Gabby. Elliot was getting out, feeling that red stare on him, when Brian spoke.

"You smell so fucking good! All I want to do is drink you dry!"

"If you think that's warming me to you you've got another thing comin'," said Elliot.

"Your vampire - the chink - he's lucky even if you two are a couple of fags. I would give anything to have someone like you to feed off of."

Elliot raised the flashlight. Brian winced.

Kris waved him over. He left the pale, whining thing behind him.

"Let's get going," said Kris. "I want to start looking up histories. Soren Alrik... I've never even heard that name before. Not even close."

"Is that normal?"

"We study the families, or rather coven's of vampires to trace bloodlines. There's ancient's in New York because they normally employ feeders. They don't have to feed more than every few months, and don't even need much then. Some do it like they feed an addiction, but it's not necessary. The other ancient coven's here, or specifically their leaders, are well known and aren't on any hit lists because they don't kill people. Not that I wouldn't mind killing them, but we've made something resembling a pact with them."

Elliot nodded. He glanced back at the table, but the whiney tick had already slipped back into the crowd of dancing people, possibly looking for a snack, more likely getting the hell away from Kris.

His cell phone buzzed. George.

Text Messages: (1) New.

I'm home. I'm sorry. Need to talk.

Elliot flipped the phone shut.

"Listen, George is back..."

Kris nodded and the three of them headed for the exit. The night air smelt fresh after the inside of the club's tang of booze and sweat. They walked down the hallway, up against the wall as they passed other club-goers.

Elliot looked over at a small sound of frustration. Gabby's turquoise eyes had become unfocused and edgy. There was a color starting to seep in at the edges, something not-white, glowing, ethereal.

Kris followed his gaze to Gabby who was starting to take a few hard gulps of air.

"Go," he muttered.

Gabby looked over, her arms twitching like a heroin addict. "But-"

"Just go. I'll take him with me. Go."

She nodded. With a jerky bob of the head at Elliot she breezed down the alley into the night. When they came around the corner she was gone.

"Is she a v-"

"No," said Kris. "Something else."

Elliot frowned. "Is that why she's not all beat up?"

"Yep," he replied.

Elliot walked along behind him to the car wondering if he really wanted to know or not. It blinked twice in the hazy orange light. Elliot opened his door and glanced up as Kris did at the barely visible moon above the clouds.

George was waiting in the light of a candle in the bedroom. He was barefoot and shirtless, sitting cross legged on the ground. His hands were resting on his knees palms up and his eyes were closed. The flickering light made shadows play on the room and over the muscles on his chest. Elliot's breath caught in his throat.

Damnit.

He stepped lightly over, wincing at the rub of his sock feet against the carpet and sat across from him. George didn't stir - he'd become a statue, a tribute to the Asiatic Monks following the Buddha. Feeling more than a little foolish Elliot followed suit, closing his eyes and laying his hands to his knees.

It was sort of peaceful sitting there, the light of the candle turning his eyelids orange, watching the black flicker about with the light through the membrane. He took slow breaths, hearing none from George across from him. The house creaked and settled around him. He could hear the fluffy beast Schmoo prowling about in the next room, playing with something.

Elliot thought back to some anger management courses he'd been forced into by the captain. He started focusing on the sound of the ceiling fan, drifting away into a safe house inside his mind. He wasn't angry, but it was relaxing. The days troubles and the aching bruises began to be forgotten.

Vrrrr. Vrrrr. Vrrrr.

Damnit.

"Not to be a bother, but your cell phone is vibrating," George murmured, breaking the silence.

Elliot opened his eyes to find George smiling at him, one eye peeked open like a lazy cat. He got up and left the room, his movement causing the flame to shudder. He glanced at the call ID, sighed, and answered it. He didn't want to have this conversation right now. He wanted George, and to be there for him.

"Hey," said the soft voice on the other end. There was shifting, like clothing or a bed in the background.

"Hey Liv," he said. "How's it going?"

"Not bad," she replied. "Just wondering how the forced time off was going."

"Productive. I'm exercising and, well... meditating," he said, glancing at the closed door.

"Meditating? Anger issues again?" she asked.

He wondered how much to tell. But if she was getting it on with Munch, he could start to gently lead her by the hand towards his new relationship. It would be a big revelation for her - maybe too big. She used to have a thing for him, and he had to admit he'd had one for her for a few years when he was with Kathy in the 'dry years' where she'd become less interested in sex and in him in general, leading up to the divorce.

"Actually... I'm meditating with George," he admitted.

He could see Olivia checking the clock in his mind. "At eleven at night?" she asked.

"He can't sleep... at his place," he finished lamely. Not too much info. "He's crashing in the guest room. He doesn't feel safe."

There was another shuffle. He heard a murmur in the background - a man's voice, but he couldn't tell if it were John's. "I understand. He feels safe with you. And he probably has a crush on you."

Elliot tried not to laugh. It was close. "I dunno."

"He might. He feels safe with you. You're protecting him. He is gay, remember?"

"Yeah," he replied. "No matter. So to make feel calm he meditates and I was joining him."

Cold hands wrapped around his torso and he hissed. He hadn't even heard the bedroom door open or heard him walk up. He was just there, his arms around him, hard, muscular chest curved into his back.

"What?" she asked.

"Oh, cold tile in the kitchen," he said casually, trying to ignore the way George's hands were caressing his stomach.

There was that voice again in the background. "Come back to bed." He could hear it clearly now, but not the tone. Might be John.

"Who was that?" he asked.

He could almost hear her blushing. "Um, don't worry about it. I gotta go, OK?"

"No prob."

"Bye," she said. More shuffling.

"Bye," he said, hanging up.

He slipped the cell phone into his jeans pocket. He turned around in George's arms and looked down into his eyes, a glittery, mischievous bronze. He leaned down and sighed as their lips worked together.

"Have a good, um... nap?"

"Yes," George breathed. "Come to bed."

Elliot's bruises protested, but other parts agreed with George. Hmm.

He let himself be led into the bedroom. George was out of his clothes in a second. Elliot pulled off his shirt but it wasn't quick enough for George - he was pushed (thrown) onto the bed. His buckle was undone and everything below the belt was tossed onto the floor. Elliot could see the heat in George's body as his blood flowed through his arousal and his force of will.

They were kissing, George's hands flew over his body manipulating places Elliot never really considered before, pressure points that sent bolts of arousal through him.

Damn the bruises anyway, he thought happily.

They twisted on the sheets gasping. George had become almost warm, his mouth felt like heaven. Elliot found the lube, rolled him on his stomach and slipped inside of him. He gasped, closing his eyes, his body shaking as he gave over to his need.

When it was done Elliot was panting. "I can't feel my legs," he complained.

George laughed, his hands playing with Elliot's stomach again. "Round two?"

"No," said Elliot, and sensed the disappointment. "I'm really banged up. Maybe give me more than a couple hours to recover."

George nodded absently, rolling away and sitting up in bed.

"Ungh," Elliot groaned. "Hey. Don't be upset. You've been weird today."

George snarled. "Why shouldn't I be? I want what I can get before you die! I'm going to leave you one day! Or rather, you'll leave me. You're not immortal, Elliot, not like me. You aren't damned."

Elliot sat up, his head spinning. It wasn't right to have a conversation like this right after sex. He was confused and all he wanted to do was sleep.

"Wha? What did I do?"

George sighed. "And after all that meditation, too."

He got up and walked out onto the balcony. Elliot considered just staying there and falling asleep but that wouldn't be worth anything - George would be angrier.

He groaned and rolled out of the bed and fished for pants, briefs - something - and pulled on his jeans. He stumbled out onto the balcony and sighed at the cool air. It felt good on his aching muscles. He knew better than to try and lay a reassuring hand on George - he was liable to get it ripped off.

He leaned onto the railing. "What, George? What's bugging you?"

George sighed. He looked over, his eyes melting from brown to bronze and back again. "Jennifer died."

Elliot tried to think of who Jennifer was but came up blank. He'd never heard George talk about one before.

"My sister. She was hit by a car. Hit and run, when she was out getting cigarettes for my parents. I haven't seen her in so long, but she was the only member of my family to still... give a shit."

Elliot frowned. "Hit and run?"

"Yeah."

He looked down into his back yard. A cat was foraging prowling down the fence. He stared at it and it glanced up, its freaky reflective eyes shining back up.

George rubbed the back of his head. "I'm immortal. No one else is. I'll keep going and everyone I love will die."

Elliot didn't know what to say. He took George's arm gently and tried to draw him over. George came willingly, so Elliot took him back to the bed and held him.

After maybe fifteen minutes they made love again, slowly this time and Elliot relished the moment he brought George to a shuddering climax. They hid beneath the covers and caressed and kissed each other. He tried to be reassuring but now all he could think of was twenty no even only ten years from now he'd be greying and George would be as eternal as he was now.

As he drifted off he thought of Alrik Soren, wondering who he was and if he'd ever get to see him take the last step to the world beyond. His dreams were dark.