Robin's had too much to drink and he wonders, with some amusement, if she realises. No-one ever seemed to, not on Halloween. Perhaps it's the cold? The night air? The fabled powers of the roof? There's a girl, Beckie, hanging on his arm and she's pawing his shirt, her fingers flicking the buttons and she reeks of sickly-sweet cocktails as if she's been bathing in them not drinking them. When she looks up at him all he sees is naked lust, the same expression that's mirrored on the face of every girl at the party.

This isn't romance.

This isn't Ted, standing alone, waiting for his Pumpkin.

This isn't Lily, simpering over feelings as if they're going out of style.

This is sex, pure and simple. Sex and blood. And it's funny that, really, he's got Robin to thank for it. To think that he almost ignored her advice ("The best thing to dress as for Halloween would be a vampire, Barney. Vampires are the thing this season." "Yeah, Robin. If you're, like, fifteen!" "Nah, vampires are sexy! Trust me!")

She wasn't wrong. His other two costumes lie, unused, in her bedroom downstairs.

Someone tugs his elbow and he turns, Beckie still attached like a limpet, her arm encircling his waist.

It's Robin.

She smiles that dazzling smile. "Like the hair," she said. "Black… it's different. Makes you look… different."

She's giggling; nervous. She's drunk.

Beckie's fondling his buttocks.

Something masochistic twists his insides. "Oh really?" He flashes Robin a toothy smile and waits for the effect to kick in, sees the flush spread across her cheeks.

Wow. This was the best. Costume idea. Ever.

It wasn't as if he even had to do anything! Black dress shirt and pants, a quick trip to the barbers to tint his hair and eyebrows and a set of fangs from a local joke store. Ladies of New York, don't even try and stay away!

He's got eight numbers already and he hadn't even been trying.

Robin's licking her lips and doesn't even seem to notice that he's already taken. He reels her in.

"You want something to drink, Robin?" He drawls her first name, knowing it'll unsettle her. She blinks, starry eyed. They're so close, he wouldn't even have to step forward to press his lips against hers.

But he grins. He wants her thinking about him. He wants her to want him. He's spent so long, so very long trying to stop himself burning up from wanting her and (spit) pining over her that it's left him scarred inside. Now all he can think is scarlet thoughts of heat and anger and revenge.

Beckie's fingers have found their way under his waist band.

He pulls away. "I was just getting Beckie a Virgin Mary," he says with a wink. He turns before Robin gets the chance to answer, takes Beckie's hand and guides her to the bar.

*--*--*

The party is still going full swing. He has some girl (Clara? Claire? Something with a C) against the wall in Ted's bedroom, a tangle of skirts and petticoats up around her waist. What's she supposed to be? He wonders, while he fucks her, one hand under he buttocks, the other flat against the wall. True to form, she tilts back her neck and he bites down, scratching her, two tiny points of blood appearing against the lily white skin of her throat. He lets them burst over his tongue as he comes, the metallic taste reminding him of something unfathomable, which nevertheless makes him feel happy.

They quickly adjust their clothing and she scurries away. His gums hurt.

This probably isn't very hygienic. But when has that ever stopped him?

*--*--*

By three AM there are several girls walking (stumbling) around the party with bites on their necks. Two of them compare the marks then start making out. Barney sees them, just out of the corner of his eye, but he's too busy with his own tongue down a girl's (Jackie? Judy? No, it was Jackie) throat to care. He's invincible; immortal. Everything about him is designed for the sole purpose of attracting women. What can they possibly do to resist?

He feels Robin's eyes burning into him, wherever he is on the roof top. Right now she's talking to Ted and still she's staring. He's surprised that Ted doesn't call her on it.

Jackie's giggling, telling him that she's going to resist the big, bad vampires (or something. They all say the same thing) and he magically pulls a silk scarf from behind her left ear and ties it around her wrists, kissing her palms, letting one of his fangs lightly scratch the skin.

He can practically feel the temperature rise between her legs.

She looks at him like she wants to eat him whole.

"Do you know what the problem is with being a vampire, Jackie?" he says, smiling his charming smile.

She shakes her head innocently, earnestly, even though he'd bet good money that she's neither. She's dressed as a slutty milk maid with a skirt so short he questions if it's actually there.

"The problem is that I'm completely insatiable. Completely helpless against my desires…" He laughs so that she does too, but it's a lie, of course. Any other night, perhaps, but tonight, the one thing he'd want to be doing and should be doing is sitting halfway across the room talking to Ted.

And all she wants is him.

And she's not going to have him.

And oh yes, he likes the feeling of power it gives him. Just for tonight. Just for Halloween.

Tomorrow the rules change again and the tables turn because everybody knows that Vampires burn up in the sunlight.

But tonight he's got hot iron on his tongue and warm, supple flesh to plunder and Robin's just got to sit there and watch him. He closes his eyes briefly, takes a deep breath and smiles, pulling Jackie close.