Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia Axis Powers

Heyy, this is to prove I'm not dead and this is a birthday gift to Rishi. I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope you all enjoy it.

Summary: Arthur Kirkland is a newly turned vampire who worries for his son's (Peter Kirkland) safety. His worries justify turning his son into a vampire just like him…right?

Plaster Saint

Noun. A person who makes a show of being without moral faults or human weakness, especially in a hypocritical way.

Chapter 1

It was the eve of his son's sixth birthday and even in the moments prior, the vampire had doubts that poked at the back of his mind. He himself was a new vampire and it had been a most awful fate. He would always regret slipping up on that hunt a year or so ago, but ultimately, it had allowed him eternal youth. Even though that was a prize in itself, Arthur Kirkland was restricted to nights. He didn't mind the darkness as sunlight had always bothered him, but once changed, taking care of his young son had become increasingly difficult and nerve-wracking. There was always the fear that Peter would run off, that strangers would infiltrate their home, that Arthur would be killed in his sleep, or that Peter wouldn't be able to take the loneliness of an empty house.

During the days, Arthur had been woken many times by his son. Usually, it was from his cries. Arthur's eyes would open to see the black and lack of light in his coffin before opening it and peering out to see his little boy leaning over with his hands rubbing his eyes raw. Every time Arthur saw the display, his heart ached and he lifted the child into his coffin. Peter would cling to him as Arthur whispered reassurances that everything was just fine. More often than not, Peter would cry himself to sleep. The poor dear tried his hardest to stay up as long as he could so he could see and play with his father. It was a wonder that they managed to stay with the routine for so long.

Arthur couldn't bear the heartache that Peter's loneliness caused him, so he figured that the only solution would be to turn the child. There were laws against it, but Arthur told himself that the whole ordeal was just morally grey. It was the right thing to do! Surely… Peter would no longer be alone. They could spend their nights together and sleep during the day. It would change everything and for the better. Arthur was sure of it.

"Peter," Arthur spoke, effectively finishing the story that he was reading to his son. The young boy looked up to his father expectantly. After a brief pause, Arthur closed the book and set it aside. How was he going to break the news to him? He began by giving Peter a close lipped smile. It was soft enough, but it most certainly had worry behind it.

He remembered the day in which he was turned. It was absolute agony and he could feel his body deteriorating and his nerves ripping at his limbs. By the time his human life ultimately ended, it was maybe an hour or so later. It felt like he had been tortured for days, but in reality all he felt was his body dying to make way for the superiority of a vampire's anatomy. Everywhere he looked he could see vast amounts of colors and even in the dead silence of the night, inanimate objects seemed to dance and spring to life as the flora and fauna sent mother nature's music into the crisp night air. The world was absolutely beautiful through a vampire's eyes…but only the night.

"Yes, Dad?" Peter asked. Even though his father had been silent for a few seconds, it felt like so much longer.

Arthur woke from his memory and his smile widened a bit before relaxing in an attempt to show Peter that nothing was wrong. "Peter, are you lonely? During the day when you're all by yourself and I can't come out, are you so lonely you can't stand it?"

Peter nodded empathically and even gripped onto Arthur's waistcoat. "Yeah… I—I'm still allowed in the coffin, right?"

Arthur would have laughed softly at the notion of kicking Peter out of the coffin, but it felt far too serious to find amusement in it. "No, Peter, of course not." He wrapped an arm around the boy and held him close. "No, that wasn't what I was thinking at all." Peter visibly relaxed at that, resting against his father's chest. "I was thinking…that it's your birthday in a few hours."

Peter leaned up and nodded yet again. "Yeah!" He smiled happily. Six was a very mature age. Peter had been waiting for his gift for DAYS. Ever since his father clued him in that it would change his life, Peter had tried guessing hundreds of things—many things more than once. "Can I have my present?"

"Well…" Arthur glanced away, trying to think of the best way to word what he wanted to say. "Do you like the sunrise, Peter? How the skies are painted with…red, orange, and pink?" He tried his best to remember what the sunrise looked like. "Do you like the night and staying up with me?"

Again, Peter nodded, but this time it was hesitant. He was curious as to what exactly Arthur meant by asking all these questions. "Yeah… Dad, what is it?"

"I know that you can't always stay up the entire night. You need your sleep, but that means we don't have much time we can spend with each other." Arthur paused before giving Peter's back a reassuring rub. "Wouldn't you like it if we could spend all our time together? You could always stay up the whole night with me and we can sleep during the day. Would you like that, Peter?"

Arthur watched as his son's eyes grew and shined with want. It seemed that all sorts of scenarios and plans flashed through Peter's mind and a smile grew on his little face. "Yeah!" He shouted and bounced in his father's lap.

Alright, he had his son's consent. That was highly important. …His son was only six… He couldn't possibly understand exactly how taxing a vampire's restrictions were. Even if Arthur did explain that Peter could never see the sun again, that his life would be dictated by his thirst, and that there would always be people that wanted to kill him, he would likely not be able to deter him. As long as the promise of spending more time together hung in the air, Peter would seize it.

"Dad?" Peter's exuberant expression from before was replaced with concern.

Arthur put more effort into hiding away his doubts and gave Peter a brilliant smile. At the sight of that, Peter's concern lessened if only slightly. "My apologies, Peter. I was distracted. We'll stay awake and watch the sunrise together. I'll give you your gift when I wake."

A grin splayed across Peter's face. Arthur cemented his decision and then he returned to the book they were reading. Peter chose another story to listen to. Before they knew it—or rather after a series of serious attempts at keeping Peter awake—the Sun began to rise. Peter sat in front of the large window that faced east. Arthur had pulled the thick, dark curtain back so Peter could have full view of the orange streaked sky while Arthur stayed by his side from behind something like a protective fabric shield.

Arthur faced away from the window and didn't dare glance at the brightening sky. Peter asked why his father wouldn't watch with him.

"It's too bright for me," he said before looking down at Peter with a gentle smile. "Would you describe it to me?"

Peter nodded and though his eyelids were heavy, he gazed at the rising sun and did his absolute best to stay awake. "There's— Purple out over the trees. And… And there's some orange and really, really dark blue over the town." Peter knew where the town was. It was about a mile or two away, but Peter at least knew the direction. "It's coming up real slow." He commented.

Arthur closed his eyes and listened to his son describing the sunrise. He felt his skin heat up. Damn that sun. Damn the daylight. He hoped that Peter wouldn't miss it terribly. "It's lovely, isn't it?" His words betrayed his real opinion, but being with Peter dampened how detestable the sun was.

Peter nodded and then he yawned, rubbing his eyes.

"About time for bed?" Arthur asked, opening one eye to view his son's exhausted stretch.

The boy shook his head and squinted at the sunrise. When his eyes fell closed and his posture slackened, Arthur soundlessly closed the curtain and scooped Peter up in his arms. The vampire then carried his son up to his bed and tucked him in. Peter protested softly and gripped at Arthur's clothes.

"Stay," he demanded in his gentle tone of voice.

On any other occasion in the past, Arthur would assure Peter that he would see him again that evening, but at this point in time, Arthur sat down beside the bed and held Peter's hand. He had every intention of staying by Peter's side until the child let his fatigue overtake him. Arthur curled away from the streaks of sunlight that snuck between the gaps in the bedroom's curtains. It wasn't long before Peter was fast asleep, allowing the vampire to sneak out of the room and into his coffin.

Arthur's sleep was interrupted once or twice throughout the day. Peter hadn't slept for very long and once his energy was renewed, he was bursting with enthusiasm and could hardly wait to receive his gift. On the third time Peter visited his father, Arthur finally climbed out of his coffin. It seems that the sun had just set and there were still a handful of pink streaks in the sky. Well. He could not exactly deny Peter by saying it was still day. The boy had waited long enough.

"Dad, I'm ready!" The child grinned and tugged on his father's hand. "I'm ready for my birthday present!"

Arthur gazed down at his son's bright, sunny face. He practically radiated excitement and adoration. Arthur hoped that the adoration would stay after the hard night that would lie ahead of them. "Very well, poppet." He held Peter's hand, gently rubbing his thumb against it. He then guided Peter to the comfortable sofa. There would be no easy way to do this and it would probably sully Peter's memory of the sofa.

Arthur tried not to think on it. Once he seated Peter, he took his time fetching a clean dish cloth from the kitchen. He gazed at it with dull eyes as he headed back to the sofa and to his son. Upon seeing Peter grin and bounce in his seat, the dull look dissipated though the smile he conjured did not quite reach his eyes. Wordlessly, he sat down beside Peter and gripped the cloth he held.

"Peter," Arthur spoke clearly and softly, "before I give you your gift, you need to know what it is."

His son shook his head. "I want it to be a surprise!" He spoke with a determined tone a few octaves stronger than the vampire's. "I want— I want to be surprised when I open it!"

Arthur mirrored Peter's head shake. "It's not the sort of gift that has pretty paper and ribbons. I need you to listen to me and to understand what I'm going to tell you." His serious voice wiped the smile from Peter's face and the boy's exuberance left him. Arthur waited a moment or so before continuing, "…I know that you're lonely here often. I know that it would make you happy if our schedules were on the same track… And with my gift, you'll be able to share my coffin each day. We can stay up together and play. We can share meals. We can do whatever you like…save for being in sunlight."

Peter watched as his father explained the conditions to his birthday gift. "But why?" He asked. He loved all those wonderful things Arthur spoke of—he really did! He was just curious.

This would be one of the hard parts. "…I…was planning on making you like me." It took all of Arthur's strength to keep his eyes focused on his son. "I cannot stand in sunlight…or I will burn. In order to survive…I need to drink blood." At the frightened look on Peter's face, Arthur quickly backtracked to try to lighten the conditions. "Ah— But— It's—" There was really no way to try to make a vampire's life seem favorable. "I get it from the containers I keep in the kitchen." It wasn't entirely a lie…but it helped to calm Peter a bit. "… The world that I see is different from yours, Peter." As if to back up his point, he looked out the window at the abundant greenery. His tone embodied nothing but gentle tones and promised lovely things. "It's beautiful. There are more colors than I can describe. So many greens and blues… You can run with the deer if you so choose it. You can sleep surrounded by rabbits." Arthur looked back to his son with warmth nestled deep in his eyes. "We could do it together. Would you like that, bun?"

Peter watched Arthur and—very diligently—listened. He didn't have anything to say for a few moments, but the concerned look on his young face did not give Arthur any relief. "You…" His voice came out in a whisper, "…You want— you want to…change me, Dad? I thought…," Tears began to bubble forth, "I thought you liked me…like I am. You don't like me anymore?"

At that, the warm expression completely fell from Arthur's face. He ceased his breathing and shook his head just barely. "No— Pete—"

Arthur's stumbling through his words only caused Peter's shoulders to shake and the tears start to drip. The boy sniffed as his reality hit him. His dad did not like him as he was…

Immediately, the vampire drew his most precious child to his chest. His arms protectively cradled the boy and Arthur bowed his head. He could not bear to see the tears. "No, Peter, no, I love you with all my heart! I promise y—" He leaned back and rested his hands on Peter's shoulders, staring into his eyes. "I promise you, Peter. I feel nothing but love towards you. You're very special and you're such a gracious blessing. I'm so lucky to have the opportunity to raise you…" He prayed that his words reached his son's ears. "You misunderstand… Yes, this will be a change…but it will be a change that will let us spend more time with each other—a change that will bring us closer together. Wouldn't you like that, Peter?" He began to soothingly rub the boy's back.

Peter rubbed his eyes and sniffled, leaning into the comforting touch. He bit his bottom lip and nodded. It started off as a non-committal nod, but gradually grew more determined. The palms of his hands rubbed at his eyes until the boy's cheeks were red. Peter removed his hands and balled them up into fists. "Mhm. Y—Yes." He was absolutely sure.

A relieved smile pulled Arthur's lips taut. They were stepping in the right direction. "That makes me happy to hear." He moved his hand to grip the kitchen cloth he had abandoned.

Upon hearing that he had pleased his father, Peter felt even more determined to accept his gift and be with his father all the more! He always loved making Arthur happy. "What's the cloth for, Dad?"

A reasonable question deserved a reasonable answer. "For biting." Arthur answered simply. He paused as he dreaded explaining the very next part. "… Even though we both want this change…it's going to be hard. I remember when I went through this…that it did hurt. It was scary. I was all alone when it happened." He carefully watched Peter's expression just in case this information put him off in any way whatsoever.

Peter remembered. He remembered when his father did not return to the home after a hunt. He had not returned for a few days. Peter had to go around town asking people about his father. The townspeople were kind enough. They fed him. They housed him. They told him that his father would return.

And return he did.

Peter had gazed upon his father. He wore dark clothes. He only walked in the night. His expressions were more fluid—more graceful—as were all of his other actions. At first Peter was wary. He did not seem like the person he knew. After a week of living with his newly turned father, Peter grew comfortable with him. Arthur was still the dad he loved. He was just different.

And now Peter would be like him.

"But you won't be." Arthur assured him. "It will be scary and it will hurt, but you won't be alone. I'll stay right here with you while it happens." All he could do was present the information to his son and hope that Peter would still agree to go through with it. He gulped lightly, keeping his eyes trained on Peter. "Do you trust me?"

Peter kept his gaze on his father and he looked between each of his eyes. There was silence as Peter decided that he did indeed trust his dad. Lightly, he nodded his head, "Yeah— Yeah, I trust you, Dad." He gripped onto Arthur's shirt. He did not want to do the part that hurt, but… But it would not hurt forever, right? And— And his dad was right here to keep him safe and to comfort him. He said it would be scary. Well, Peter could be brave. If it would make his father happy, Peter would be the bravest six year old ever!

Arthur still was not entirely sure that Peter grasped the severity of what would happen, but the boy would understand soon enough. "Whatever happens, you need to do exactly as I say. Once I've started, I can't stop it."

Peter nodded with the intent to do the best he could to listen to Arthur.

"Tilt your head." Arthur commanded in a firm, but gentle tone. He watched as Peter did exactly as he said. Peter's neck looked soft and the jugular beneath was thrumming with life.

Being a vampire had always made Arthur notice exactly how alive Peter was. He was constantly moving, constantly making noise, and constantly breathing. Watching Peter gave Arthur the same feeling he felt when he gazed through a telescope at the various galaxies beyond Earth's atmosphere. There was always so much wonder and mystery and despite viewing all the little beauties in nature, Arthur would readily admit that the most fantastic treasure he had ever witnessed was his son.

Arthur held the clean cloth to Peter's lips, giving him the choice to bite into it or not. Wordlessly, Peter opened his mouth and bit into the cloth, keeping it in his mouth. He still was not sure why he would need the kitchen cloth. He could keep quiet no matter how badly it hurt.

Arthur tilted his head to the side and leaned forward, brushing his fangs against Peter's neck. He felt his son tense up upon feeling the sharp canines. He began to soothingly rub Peter's back to see if he could calm him before sinking his fangs into the child's neck.

The vampire could feel his son's whimper reverberate through his small body. He could feel Peter's nails dig into his chest and the boy gasped—or he tried. The gag made it difficult to intake air through his mouth. Arthur kept the boy in a vice grip as he drew liquid life from him. Even though Arthur kept his eyes squeezed shut, he knew Peter trembled in fear and—bless his heart—tried not to struggle. Even through this traumatizing experience of having one's father suck his blood, Peter still tried to behave for him.

…Not traumatizing— Necessary— Right?

Arthur awoke from his thoughts when he felt Peter smack—or rather as hard as a little boy could smack—his chest incessantly as he cried, "Dad! Dad—!" The voice was so soft and muffled with the dishcloth. The smacks had lost their energy. Peter was afraid. Even though he trusted his father implicitly, he could feel himself close to death and it terrified him.

It was almost time.

Once the vampire had taken the majority of his son's blood, he retracted his fangs from the child's neck and pulled back. Peter was pale. Arthur gently lifted the cloth out of Peter's mouth and Peter heaved breaths.

"I—is it done?" Oh, Peter. "Did you do it, Dad?" Peter, no. "Is—is it done?" Those eyes were filled with so much hope. He thought he had finished the task his father had set for him. "Am I like you now?"

Quietly, Arthur shook his head and the hope fell from Peter's eyes. "No, love. Not yet." The vampire brought his wrist to his lips.

Peter watched him, still heaving heavy breaths. "Dad…" He spoke softly, "Dad, I'm sleepy…"

"I'll tuck you in soon enough. We can read a story together." Arthur sunk his fangs into his wrist and tore it, allowing the mixed blood to bead forth from its confines. "Won't that be nice?" He smiled, his lips and teeth stained with blood.

The boy's eyes widened when he saw the bloody smile. He loved his father's smiles, but when paired with blood…the result was frightening. When Peter did not respond, Arthur held his bloodied wrist to Peter's mouth. Peter could only stare at the wrist in fear.

As the seconds ticked by, the vampire grew more anxious. "Peter, you must drink."

"I don't want to—" He whispered, fatigue pulling at him.

Arthur raised his voice with urgency and moved his wrist closer. "You must. Peter, there's no turning back. You have to drink." The commanding tone was a necessary evil. If Arthur did not manage to get Peter to drink from him, then the child would surely die.

At Peter's whimper, Arthur decided that there had been enough stalling. As much as he hated to scare his son, he would have hated so much more to see him dead. The vampire pressed his wrist to Peter's mouth and forced him to drink.

There was a brief, muffled whine from Peter and he rested his small hands against his father's arm. He had fully intended to push the arm away, but in the moments he tasted the mixed blood, Peter was unsure. The first drops were repulsing. The next few drops were unwelcome. The first gulp, however, was most accepted. Peter's eyes slipped closed and he moved to wrap his arms around his father's.

When Peter finally succumbed and freely drank from his wrist, Arthur let out a relieved breath. Peter would be fine. The ritual had begun and was continuing on. The worst was yet to come.

"Peter," Arthur spoke in a tone free of the urgency he had before. Peter still clung to his father's arm, drinking as much as he could. He could not help himself. The taste was so delicious and its presence was so welcome. "Peter," Arthur's tone became stern and he tried to pull his arm away. Peter kept a firm grip on Arthur's arm. The vampire started to feel weak as his son's strength grew. "Peter, you have to let go now! You've had enough!"

At the shout, Peter instinctively released his hold and Arthur managed to pull his arm away. The boy stared at his father with a blank expression. He sat with his back straight. His eyes were wide, but not filled with fear. He would look perfectly innocent if not for the blood that had dripped from his mouth and soaked the entire front of his shirt.

There was silence as their gazes were locked.

Suddenly, Peter's eyelids fluttered and he looked down. His arms were still held up from clutching Arthur's arm. His fingers and frame twitched and his wide eyes slowly began to squeeze closed. He took in shaky breaths before letting out a scream and clutching his sides.

Arthur made a determined attempt to sit up. "Peter," He spoke quickly, "this part is the hardest."

Peter felt a pang of—of something—rip through his body and he let out another scream, falling back off of his father's lap to the floor. The boy did not grunt or make any indication that he knew he fell to the floor. The waves of whatever was happening to him jolted his body, causing him to keep his eyes opened as wide as possible.

Immediately, Arthur knelt by Peter's side and rested a hand on the side of his son's face. "It's going to hurt." He stated as clearly as possible between Peter's breaths—or rather, shrieks. "Everything will be okay. It will be okay soon enough."

No, it isn't okay!

Arthur continued to explain the process. "Your body is dying. That is why it hurts." If Peter had heard what he said, Arthur could not tell. "It lasts for just a little while—then it'll be over. You'll be like me. It'll be okay, Peter. Everything is fine." He spoke in as calm a voice as he could muster.

Peter gazed up as his father and briefly registered that he was not doing a thing to stop it. Another flare of pain decomposed parts of his insides and he let out another breath in a scream. His father— He knew— He knew that it would hurt— Peter screamed again and twisted away from Arthur.

This time Arthur remained where he was. Peter climbed onto his hands and knees, the pain still wracking his body every other second or so. He looked up to his father with a face Arthur never thought Peter would make. His expression was scrunched up in pain and the sight of the blood on Arthur's lips and chin still produced an abundance of fear in Peter.

The boy stood—or as best as he could without wobbling—and backed away from the vampire.

He loved his father.

His father would care for him and read him stories. He would tuck him in. He would sing him songs. He would feed him. This could not possibly be his father. The creature with blood on his lips. The creature that hurt him. He did say it would hurt. The creature never said he would die!

"Peter," Arthur moved forward and eased into a standing position, thus causing the boy to move farther back. "Peter, it's okay—" Of course that was hard to say when Peter still whimpered and whined in pain constantly.

After another moment of gazing at the monster, Peter turned and ran as fast as he could to the door, doing his best to avoid Arthur on the way. Peter made it out the door just a few feet before Arthur hurried after him and grabbed his arm, eliciting a shriek from the boy. Peter turned his head back to stare up at Arthur in fear. Tears had bubbled over and dripped down the boy's cheeks. Some tear drops were translucent and others were red.

Arthur froze.

This was not how it was supposed to go.

In the vampire's state of shock, Peter broke away from him and ran off into the forest that surrounded their mansion. Arthur stared at the thick line of trees as the whines and whimpers of his son gradually disappeared.

Peter was not supposed to run away.

He was supposed to bear with the transformation and Arthur was supposed to hold him and reassure him that all would be just fine—that after Peter's human life ended, they would go for a walk. Arthur would watch as Peter grew amazed by all the gorgeous sights around him.

He had run away and Arthur needed to retrieve him.

Peter continued his running until the ground disappeared clean out from under him. He tumbled for a few feet and slipped down a slope into the creek. Still, he panted and whined in pain. The cold water that lapped at his body offered little comfort, but comfort nonetheless. Peter panted deeply and decided to remain where he was. Well— The pain would not allow him to move from his position. As Arthur searched for him, Peter's human life flickered down to a dull flame until it finally disappeared.

The boy was silent. The first thing he noticed was the absence of pain and then he noticed the water that ran against his body. He relaxed in it. He could feel each drop as the group thrummed against his back. He could feel drops run and then slide down over his shoulder and neck. Slowly, he sat up and dared to open his eyes.

He watched as nature unfolded before him.

Peter never knew that the world could have so many colors—so many textures. He never knew purple hid in the trees and that orange and flecks of maroon could give water such glitter and shine. In one seamless motion, Peter stood and gazed down at the creek. He could see his legs and his feet, but he had lost his reflection. He would have briefly mourned it, but the sounds of the night began to take hold and distract him.

There was water rushing, crickets chirping, rabbits rustling around in the bushes, and laughing… Peter looked to the direction in which he heard the laughter and talking. He saw smoke float above the treetops and disperse into the night air.

It was the village.

Without question, Peter found himself drawn to it—drawn to the talking and the families. It was laughably easy to navigate through the forest to the village. Before that night, Peter always had to use the pathway to reach the village. The forest had always been so confusing. It could only be assumed that something was guiding Peter that night.

He ventured on until the vegetation parted to reveal the cobblestone ground. Peter soundlessly dragged his gaze over the village. The adults were hurrying children inside for dinner. Peter gingerly took a step towards the center of the village and gradually increased his pace. All his movements were so sure—so confident. Everything felt absolutely effortless.

That is, until an adult spotted him.

"Peter?" The woman asked, "Peter Kirkland, is that you?"

Peter lifted his head to see the lady standing in her home's doorway. She could not have been more than twenty feet away. A little girl peaked out from behind her mother's skirt and her face brightened up at the mention of the boy the family had taken in a year or so ago.

Slowly, Peter nodded and called back, "Yes, Ma'am." Save for his mouth and his head's movement, he remained motionless. He could not understand what it was, but upon seeing the two, Peter felt himself need something. He wanted to go to them—to be near them—to have the comfort he had when his father had not returned to him so long ago. He needed it.

"What are you doing all the way down here?" The kind lady asked as she wiped the flour from her hands on her apron. Giggling, the little girl hurried out from behind her mother and ran towards Peter. "Does your father know you're out here, love? He didn't leave you alone again, did he?"

It was not until the little girl was a mere foot or so away from Peter that she stopped and her smile disappeared. She saw it. She saw the blood that soaked Peter's shirt and the river's water that clung to whatever part of his garments it could.

Peter kept his eyes locked on hers. What was she so scared about? Didn't she want to lead him inside? Perhaps to have dinner with her and her family? Oh, Peter wanted that very badly. He wanted—nay—needed to be around a loving family at that very moment.

The little girl reached out a hand and rested it against Peter's cheeks. "Are you okay?" Her voice wavered, "Did you get hurt?"

Her touch sent a jolt through Peter. His eyes widened ever so slightly as his nerves shrieked and screamed at him. The thrumming he had been unknowingly ignoring for minutes now had grown deafening.

"Peter?" She tilted her head, highly concerned for the boy. When Peter regretted to respond, she drew her hand away and turned to her mother, calling to her. "Mum, something's wrong with Peter!"

To this day, Peter did not want to admit he knew what had happened that night.

It had all passed by so fast. He heard screaming. He heard it from far away and he heard it right by him. He felt his vice grip hold her in place as he took what it was he needed so badly. The need was not for the loving atmosphere of a family at dinner as he had originally thought.

Rather… It was for the blood that stained his cheeks and trickled down his throat, sating his thirst. Oh, it was divine. Peter had never tasted ambrosia, but he was pretty sure that what he was drinking came fairly close.

It was not until he felt a solid blow to his head that his right mind returned to him. He sat up from the cobblestone ground and watched silently as the scene finally registered. The nice lady cradled her daughter to her chest, assuring her that she would be okay.

She would be okay…right?

Peter's eyes widened in horror. She would be okay! She would! He couldn't have done anything wrong, could he? He could not possibly have harmed her, did he? It was at that moment that he took notice of the family's father running out of the house with a blunt instrument. Peter did not take the time to figure out what it was. Instead, he leaped up and ran as fast as his legs could carry him back into the forest.

The village disappeared in mere moments and Peter had to halt to look back. He was already so far away and he had not even broken a sweat. He would have been marveled by his sudden new gift for athletics, but the attack weighted on him. He felt his throat as the little girl's blood clung to the walls of his esophagus. It was life and he had stolen it from her.

Peter coughed and fell to his knees. It had to be wrong! It had to be wrong to feel so good after doing something so bad! He coughed harder and gripped the grass beneath him. Flecks of blood flew from Peter's mouth and peppered the viridian blades. He heaved breaths in and out as his eyes bubbled with fresh, red tears.

"Peter."

The boy lifted his head to view his father. He looked the vampire up and down and he looked back in the direction of the village. There were shouts and yells about a demon and a monster. Arthur took this moment to step towards Peter and soundlessly kneel beside him.

"Peter," He whispered, "did you…?"

Peter yanked his gaze from the village and set it on Arthur. The tears dripped down his cheeks and he inadvertently tore at the grass. "Daddy," He whimpered, "I didn't— I didn't mean to— She—!" He hiccupped between his words, "She just— And—!" Then came the gasping and the sobs.

Arthur could understand well enough. He gently wrapped his arms around his son and drew him to his chest. "I know, Peter." The vampire soothingly rubbed the child's back as Peter's violent sobs shook him. When Arthur felt the people from the village were getting too close for his comfort, he stood and held his son as he walked up to his mansion.