MUSICAL VAMPIRE MYSTERIES OF RORY FLANAGAN

Author's Notes: This is some sort of whacked out crossover that popped into my head for no apparent reason other than the fact that two of my favorite currently running shows are Glee and True Blood. Even if you are not a True Blood fan, the story will stand on its own just fine, because I am using the Glee characters mixed with the True Blood mythology, and if you follow along, everything that is necessary to know will be explained.

As a precaution, anyone that knows True Blood is familiar with the fact that it's kind of violent, graphically gory, and erotic, with an amazing plot underneath it all. That said, there will be some graphic descriptions of gore and violence and eroticism to keep in spirit with the show. Furthermore, this story is meant to be Sory centered, so if that bothers you, then you won't much care for this.

Also note that, because of mixing these two series, characters are sometimes OOC, since in some cases I am blending a Glee character with a True Blood character. That's not an oversight on my part, it's intentional as part of the idea of this story. :)

In reference to the title, the books that True Blood is based on are called The Southern Vampire Mysteries of Sookie Stackhouse. This title was created to nod to the source material and Glee as well. I give credit of the wonderful title to my beta boys.

Beta Credit: Ragnarok45, TVTime
Consulting Credit: Ragnarok 45, AndyMixter, TVTime: These three have been a huge help in brainstorming for this story and of course proofing. Give them cookies. Big cookies, because the first draft sucked worse than anything I ever wrote, seriously.

Season 1, Episode 1: I See You

Lima, Ohio: Summer, 2013

The Lima Bean was one of the most popular hangouts for teenagers, particularly since Lima wasn't exactly brimming with excitement. In fact, it was downright boring, especially in the summer. Luckily, the teenagers' bar stayed open until nine. It was set up like a standard bar, complete with barstools lining a long bar-like counter. Booths bordered the walls of the dining area, with tables scattered about. Unlike a regular bar, however, the lights weren't dimmed down low, the music wasn't blaring, but rather subtle, and no alcohol was served in any capacity. Instead of booze, coffees, smoothies, and food were offered. Lima Bean was an all around nice place to hang out.

Tonight, a trio of teenagers were snickering amongst themselves as they watched a tall brown-haired boy struggling with a tray stacked with empty glasses, dishes, and used napkins. The boy was clearly clumsy, tripping over his own two feet and dropping one of the empty containers onto the teenagers' table.

"I'm sorry, let me clean that up for ye'," the waiter apologized in a thick Irish accent. "I can be a wee bit clumsy sometimes." He reached for the glass and put it back on his tray, leaning over with a clean, cloth napkin and wiping off the few drops of liquid that had spilled.

"Give me that," one of the boys demanded, grabbing for the rag. When he did, his hand made contact with the Irish teen's skin, causing the waiter to jerk his hand back as if in reflex. "Dude, what's your problem? I just needed to dry my hand off since you decided to drop a drink on me!"

"I'm sorry, really," the server repeated, leaving the napkin with them and hurrying off toward the kitchen. He could hear the boys laughing loudly and muttering insults amongst themselves behind him. His face was now a deep shade of pink and his shoulders slumped as the words 'Did you see what that asshole did to me?' rang in his ears, obviously intended for him to hear.

"You okay, Rory?" a voice asked. He tried not to look at its owner, a short black girl with a thick figure and pretty black hair. When he finally nodded, she offered him a comforting smile, even though she knew it wouldn't really help much. "Don't pay attention to those jerks. They'll be lucky if Kurt doesn't spit in their next café mocha," the girl said, poking her head from around the wall in front of the kitchen, scowling at the chuckling teens.

"Thanks, Mercedes, I can't help that I'm so clumsy," Rory replied, feigning a smile. She saw right though him, however, all too familiar with his constant attempts at covering up his hurt feelings.

"You look a little…," the girl began, observing the wrinkled brow of her co-worker and friend. "Did you touch one of them?" She emerged completely from the kitchen, toting a box of bottled water. She set it down on the bar top and turned to face him.

Rory nodded slowly. "By accident. It wasn't long, but just enough," he admitted. "It was gross."

Mercedes sneered. "What did you see, or dare I ask?"

"I'll just say that he likes lookin' at some really weird adult websites," he told her, a grin finally spreading across his face. "I guess it's kinda funny once I get past the grossness. Girls doing things with other girls while pouring some sort of brown mud all o'er each other."

Mercedes burst into laughter. "That is funny! What a freak. See, you got no reason to let them upset you. You can see all their dirty secrets with a touch. You have all the power in the world over them if you think about it."

The Irish teen smiled again. "Yeah, ye'r right. Ye'r confidence always makes me feel better. I'd still rather not 'ave to wait on their table though. Do ye' think Tina would mind?"

"Mind what?" came another, softer, female voice. Rory turned around to see Tina, the assistant manager of the evening shift. She had a wide smile across her face, her eyes as friendly looking as ever. Her long black hair was pulled into low, twin pigtails, giving her a childlike appearance.

"Those jerks are giving Rory a hard time. You mind finishing up with them?" Mercedes answered before the boy could speak up.

Tina gave a mischievous grin, accompanied by a glint in her eyes. "Of course. I'll take good care of them," the Asian woman said. "Their check?" Rory reached into one of the pockets of his waiter's apron and pulled out the ticket for the obnoxious teens. He slowly handed it to Tina, unsure of exactly what she had in mind.

"Oh lord, what's she gonna do now?" Rory whispered to Mercedes, the pair of them watching her with great interest. They couldn't hear what Tina was saying, but apparently whatever it was, the boys handed over some cash, got up, and left with little fanfare. Tina bid them a good evening with a triumphant grin and returned to her friends.

"What'd you do?" Mercedes asked quickly as Tina handed Rory the cash so he could ring it up in the register, and take out his tip that Tina had so obviously insisted they leave behind.

Tina grinned, her innocent-looking features shining with pride. "I simply reminded them that my parents are making a donation to the football team in the fall, and how I'd hate to have to ask them to reconsider." She giggled, pleased with herself.

"Girl, you are an unstoppable force of nature," the black woman complimented. She shook her head and headed back to the bar, picking the box of water back up and putting it away in the small refrigerator beneath the countertop. She then proceeded to wipe down the bar with a washrag as she continued to chuckle to herself.

"Thanks, Tina. I appreciate it. Ye' always watch out for me," Rory said. "Ye' should 'ave the tip. Ye' did the hard part." He started to dig into his pocket to check the extra cash but she stopped him by placing her hand gently on his wrist. She made sure to only let her fingertips brush his watchband, avoiding contact with his pale flesh.

"Don't be silly. You earned it; I just delivered the check," she said, smiling and walking off toward the office in the back, most likely to check on Mike, her boyfriend and evening manager of the Lima Bean.

-ooo-

A tall blonde man had come in shortly before the entire incident with the teenagers and the young waiter. He sat in the booth at the far corner where he would hardly be noticed, observing the brunette and his adversaries. He felt sympathy for him as he tripped and the teenagers laughed at him, then got rude with him. He noted, however, the strange reaction the boy seemed to have upon being touched. It was odd, the way he pulled back his hand like he had touched something hot.

The blonde man felt a twinge of happiness, however, when he watched the Asian woman. She had approached the boys, murmured a few choice words to them—always smiling—which put strained looks on their faces. Then she collected their money and shooed them out the door. There was something about the tall, brunette boy, though, that caught the blonde's attention. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something made him keep his eyes locked on the teen, watching as the waiter had a seemingly cheerful exchange with the Asian and the dark-skinned woman. Again, the man felt a twinge of satisfaction to see the boy smiling. Maybe the smile was what had drawn his attention. No, not just the smile: it was also the bright blue eyes that suddenly focused on him as the waiter noticed he had a patron that needed tending to.

-ooo-

"Hey, Rory," Mercedes called. "You got a customer." She nodded her head toward the gentleman in the booth at the back of the dining room. Rory turned to look at him, noticing that the man was staring right at him.

"The way he's staring at you, you'd think he was trying to memorize you or something," Kurt, the barista, said as he sidled up to the young waiter, seemingly appearing out of nowhere as he often did. Kurt had a habit of curiously sneaking up on people, even though he didn't mean to. He was just quiet until he made an official appearance. The brunette, flamboyant barista shared some similar features with Rory, and they were both openly gay, leading people to confuse them at times – something Rory wasn't particularly happy about, simply because he felt Kurt's over-the-top style was tacky, not that the shy, polite Irish waiter would ever voice his opinion out loud or that it made him think any less of Kurt as a person.

"Maybe he just thinks you're hot," Kurt added with a sly grin. Ever since Rory confided his sexuality in him, Kurt had been trying to set the teen up with every guy who so much as looked at him, but Rory continually brushed Kurt's efforts away. He wasn't stuck up, rather he was afraid of what he might see if he touched would-be suitors.

"Oh stop, ye' always think e'eryone is lookin' at me like that. Ye' know better," Rory scolded. "I better go help him before he gets impatient." Trying not to pay attention to the fact he was being stared at, Rory walked with the little confidence he had over to the blonde man's table, pulling his notepad and pen out of his pocket as he walked.

Kurt skittered over to the bar instantly, whispering to Mercedes. "I sure hope he does think that boy is hot. Rory needs a date, and that blondie is quite a looker." Mercedes chuckled lightly.

"You're determined to couple that boy up with someone before the end of the summer," the woman said. "I guess it wouldn't hurt if we just, you know, stood here and pretended not to pay attention, right?"

"Now you're speaking my language," Kurt said, the pair of them casually watching how their friend interacted with the blonde man.

-ooo-

"Hello, welcome to the Lima Bean," Rory said cheerily, giving his new customer an inviting smile. The stranger looked back at him with a grin that was slightly eerie, but at the same time slightly… easing. "Sorry sir, for ye'r wait. Can I get ye' anything?"

The blonde man simply stared up at Rory's big blue eyes. It's quite alright.I wasn't waiting long at all. Besides, I saw you had some… rowdy patrons to finish up with," he said soothingly, referring to the teenagers that had been giving Rory a hard time. "You and your friend handled them quite well."

Rory gulped, unable to do anything but stare back at the stranger, his eyes locking onto the emerald shine from the other man's own eyes. "Ah, yes, they were a wee bit rowdy, but now they're gone. But, uh, what can I get for ye'?" The stranger tilted his head slightly and glanced down at the table before returning his gaze upward.

"Do you have any Tru Blood?" the blonde asked nonchalantly, a pleasant smile still set on his thick lips. He was always a little nervous about sharing his status as a vampire for fear of how he might be treated.

At the mention of the drink's name, Rory felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. He tried not to draw attention to his throat as he swallowed nervously. He could feel his hands starting to tremble a little bit as well, sweat forming on his forehead.

"Oh, oh yes, I think we' 'ave some in the back. I'm not sure what Mike ordered. It might not even be any good, but I can check for ye'," Rory managed to get out in a hurried ramble.

"Whatever you have is fine, but O negative if there is any," the blonde said. Rory wanted to move, wanted to walk away, but something about the stranger was keeping him in his spot. "Wait, am I right in thinking that maybe you haven't met one of us before? A vampire, I mean," he asked before Rory had any more time to think.

Rory slowly shook his head before finding his voice. "No, no sir, I 'aven't. I, ah, I don't think any of us 'ave. Ye'r the first one to come here that I know of. I guess maybe we aren't that popular," he replied, trying to add some humor at the end, more to calm himself than anything else.

"Well, Rory, you don't have to feel uncomfortable around me. I'm not here to bother anyone. I only came for a drink, and people watching," the man said, softening his eyes.

"H-how did ye' know me name?" Rory blurted out, unnerved.

The vampire chuckled lightly. "It's on your nametag." He nodded at Rory's chest, the boy suddenly blushing at his own foolishness.

"Oh yes, o' course. I'll uh, go get that Tru Blood for ye' now, sir," the teen said, finally finding his confidence to skitter off toward the kitchen, his face still a light shade of pink.

-ooo-

Mercedes followed Rory into the kitchen and to the storage room that housed their unused beverages and other items that needn't be frozen. "So… the way he was smiling at you… did he talk like he was interested in you?" she asked excitedly.

The Irish teen shrugged as he was sorting through the shelves on the wall. "I dunno. I'm not very good at readin' that kind o'thing." Mercedes frowned. Rory had always been a little daft when it came to flirtation. "Where's the Tru Blood's at? he asked, agitated.

Mercedes' face dropped instantly. "The what!?" Her voice had become gravelly—almost harsh.

"Tru Blood. I cant find them, but I know Mike ordered some a while back," the teen replied, oblivious to Mercedes' sudden concern. "Aha!" he finally exclaimed, reaching far into the back behind several six packs of soda. There were only four, all of them AB positive, but the vampire had assured him whatever he found would be fine.

"He ordered Tru Blood? He's a vampire?" the girl questioned, ignoring her friend's excitement at finding his prize. "Rory, you better be really careful, you know what they can do to people," she cautioned. The boy made a noncommittal mumble as he looked at the nutrition information on the bottle out of curiosity. She yanked the bottle from his hand to get his attention. "I'm serious! They can do that little mind trick. Don't look him in the eyes, no matter what, you got me?"

The boy snatched the bottle back from her. "I'll be fine, Mercedes. Don't worry. He said he just came here for a drink, so I don't think he wants any trouble." With a curt nod of his head he walked out of the storage room, through the kitchen and paused at the bar to put the bottle on a tray, along with a glass of ice. As he walked back toward the table, Kurt rushed up next to the scowling woman.

"Did he just walk out of there with a –" he began.

"Tru Blood. Yep. The dude is a vampire," Mercedes stated grimly. "Don't let Rory out of your sight. I warned him not to look at the guy's eyes, but you know Rory. Overly friendly to a fault."

"Naïve, too. I mean really, a glass of ice? With blood? That boy really is adorably clueless sometimes," Kurt added. Mercedes stifled a chuckle, maintaining her serious demeanor.

-ooo-

"I'm so sorry for the delay, sir. They were hidden in the back o' the storage closet," Rory stated apologetically as he set the beverage down in front of the vampire, putting the glass down next to it with a nervous smile. "Is there anythin' else I can get for ye'?"

The vampire began to giggle like a child, biting his bottom lip in an attempt to silence himself. Rory frowned, unsure what was so amusing. "Is… is something wrong, sir?"

Regaining his composure, the vampire looked up at the boy with his innocent blue eyes, genuine concern set in them. "Blood is generally served at ninety-eight point six degrees. The temperature of the human body," he explained, smiling.

Again, Rory's face turned a deep crimson. "Oh me God! I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed, reaching for the bottle. "I didn't think—I ne'er served one before! I'll be right back, I –"

The blonde man placed his hand on Rory's, stopping him from taking the bottle. His skin was cool, sending a shiver down the teen's spine. "Don't worry about it, Rory. It's an honest mistake. It's actually quite funny."

Normally, if someone touched Rory when he wasn't expecting it, he would end up 'seeing' something he didn't want to, like with the teenager earlier, but when this stranger's fingers brushed over the back of his hand... nothing happened. Thinking that perhaps he'd managed to subconsciously block the effect, Rory let his curiosity overtake him for a moment as he purposely tried to 'look' inside the vampire; still, he got nothing but an unending, blank, quiet void. It was like when he touched someone with his mental block up, but this time without needing the conscious barrier. It was… a relief.

Noticing the look of confusion on the boy's face, the man released his grip. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cross a boundary. I shouldn't have put my hand on you," he said, wondering if he had offended the young man. He watched as the look on Rory's face shifted from one of confusion, to one of happiness.

"No, it's okay," Rory said lightly. He couldn't help but let his face wander toward the stranger, allowing his gaze to be captured in the alluring green eyes. Realizing what he was doing, the boy quickly looked away.

"Don't be afraid to look at me. I'm not going to glamour you. I don't want your attention that way." The blonde man's voice was as captivating as his eyes. Rory finally lifted his gaze to glance at the other man, goofy grins spreading across both of their faces. "I'm sorry, I've been rude. My name is Sam," the vampire said.

"Nice t'meet ye', Sam," the young man replied. "I'm… oh, right, ye' already know." Again he flushed crimson, grasping for something else to say, something that didn't sound stupid, but all he managed was an offer. "Do ye' want me t'warm up that Tru Blood for ye'?"

Sam nodded. "Please. Three and a half minutes in the microwave usually works for me. Be careful. The bottle will be hot. I don't want you to burn your hands." He smiled, handing the drink over to the waiter. "Burns make your hands calloused, and from what I can tell, yours are still smooth. Mine are a bit rough from playing guitar. I can tell you about that when you get back, if you want."

"Sure, I'll be right back," Rory said quickly, sending a heart-stopping smile the vampire's way before turning and scuttling away toward the kitchen again, almost tripping over his own two feet. Sam watched him, a pleased look on his face. He noticed that the more flustered the boy seemed to get, the clumsier he became. It was endearing and reminded him of his much younger brother from his human life.

-ooo-

Mercedes wasted no time in scolding her friend. "I saw you looking at him. I told you not to," she said harshly. He walked right past her and toward the back counter where he placed the bottle in the microwave and set the timer. "Did you hear me? He's probably hypnotized you by now!"

Rory shook his head. "No. I don't think he did. He may not be able to. I mean, I wasn't able to, ye' know, 'see' him the way I usually can with other people. I tried. If my… whatever it is… won't work on him, maybe his glamouring won't work on me." He turned to face his friends, Kurt having just stepped up to join them.

"What do you mean you couldn't 'see' him? I thought that happened with everybody you touched if you didn't concentrate," Kurt inquired, the look on his face grave.

"When he grabbed me hand, I… at first I didn't get any images in me head, so I thought maybe I blocked without realizing it, but then I actually tried to 'see' him, and… nothing," Rory explained. He glanced at his friends, both of them confused. "It was like looking at empty space. It was kind o'nice."

"Nice? What do you mean nice?" Mercedes demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. "Vampires aren't something you should be feeling nice about. They're dangerous, and… and crazy!"

"Because, Mercedes, most o'the time when someone touches me, I 'ave to control meself to keep from sensing their memories, especially if they catch me off-guard like that. But it didn't happen this time. For a moment, I actually felt… normal," the Irish teen went on, his eyes softening into sadness.

Kurt wrinkled his face in a harsh scowl. "You are normal. Don't talk like you aren't. You just have an extra gift." Before the argument could go on, the bell on the microwave went off. Rory turned around, and recalling Sam's warning, used a nearby napkin to handle the hot container. Even through the thick napkins he could feel the heat of the glass.

"We can talk about this later. I 'ave a customer to serve," Rory announced, annoyed at their lack of faith in his judgment of character. He walked purposefully toward the dining room, bottle in hand.

"We have to keep an eye on him. I can tell, he's crushing on him and I don't even need a special gift to see that," Mercedes said quietly, her eyes filled with concern. Kurt nodded in agreement, tending to his next order, but not letting his gaze fall anywhere but on his endangered friend.

-ooo-

"Thank you, Rory," Sam said taking the bottle in his hand and bringing it to his lips to sip it. "Perfect."

The teen showed his goofy smile again "I'm sorry for the mix up again. Next time I'll make sure to give ye' a warm one. I mean, if ye' even want t'come back." He looked down at the table, almost as if shamed by his error.

"I definitely want to come back. The service here is perfect," Sam said with a genuine nod of satisfaction. Noticing the blush across the boy's cheeks, he went on to ask a question. "Are you working tomorrow?"

Rory nodded his head. "Yes. Until nine."

"Then I'll be back tomorrow. I'll be sure to sit at your table," Sam assured him.

"O-okay," the teen stammered, still nervous about meeting his first vampire on top of his inability to use his gift on him. It was a lot to take in at one time. "I 'ave to tend to me other customers, but let me know if there's anything else I can get ye'."

Sam waved his hand casually. "Just the check. I need to be going. I have an errand to run, unfortunately."

Rory looked at him with curiosity, wondering what kind of errand a vampire could have. Pushing his thoughts aside, he stated Sam's 'check'. "It's on the house. For me mistake," he replied. "I hope you 'ave a nice night, Sam." He gave a polite grin that turned out to be a little more friendly than he'd intended.

"Thank you, Rory. For the drink, and for the pleasant conversation," Sam replied with a soft smile of his own. Unsure what to do next, Rory turned and walked away. He immediately began praying he didn't stumble as he left Sam to finish his drink. Not five minutes later, after he'd turned around from helping another customer, Sam was gone. When Rory went to clear the table of the now-melted cup of ice and empty bottle, there was a slip of paper sitting atop a twenty-dollar bill.

Thank you for the wonderful service, Rory. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow evening.

The sloppily written words made him feel jittery inside, the same way most people felt when asked out on a date. He knew that wasn't what the paper meant; it was merely a compliment, but it was so genuine, and the tip so generous, he couldn't help but think about Sam the rest of the evening. He was amused that this, most likely, ancient being had such chicken-scratch for handwriting, but that thought was replaced as he wondered why he couldn't 'see' him. It was just so wonderful to touch someone and not absorb memories he didn't care to see without having to concentrate. It was so amazing to feel normal, even if only for just a few moments.

-ooo-

"He left me a twenty," Rory stated with a smirk as he waltzed past Mercedes and Kurt, toward the kitchen.

"Probably because he wants to drain you," Mercedes called after him harshly. She turned toward Kurt, lowering her voice to a whisper. "He's gonna glamour that boy, and then bite him, drink him dry, turn him into a vampire, and next thing you know, we got an Irish vampire on our asses."

Kurt suppressed a chuckle and rolled his eyes at her dramatics. "I don't think it's quite that serious. I mean, about him turning into one. He'll probably get bitten, but I don't want to see that poor clueless kid drained like a tank of water."

The full-figured woman put her hands on her hips, scowling. "Quit being a smartass. This is serious and you're just trying to cover it up with ill-timed humor," she scolded.

He sighed, shaking his head. "I really don't want anything to happen to him. I wish that thing never came in here. Now we have to protect Rory until he stops being infatuated with him." He nodded at Tina, who was across the room, her purse on her shoulder as she left for the evening.

Mercedes' face softened, knowing full well that Kurt was just as worried as she was. "You know, I wonder what Mike would think about this."

"Think about what?" came a deep masculine voice approaching them from behind. Mike Chang, a tall, lean Asian man barely older than Mercedes and Kurt leaned over the countertop, raising an eyebrow at them.

"Yes, think about what?" Rory added as he came out of the kitchen, a suspicious glare pasted on his face.

Kurt stayed silent as Mercedes took charge of the explanation. "About that vampire that was up in here, eyeing you like his next meal!"

Mike perked up, standing straight. "We had a vampire in here? A real one? After all this time?" His question was a general query but his attention was focused right on the young Irish lad.

Rory slowly nodded his head. "Yes, we had a real vampire here. He was nice and polite, and he left me a big tip. I uh… comped his drink though, because I messed up when I served it to him cold. I didn't know ye'r supposed to heat it up first. I was embarrassed so I didn't charge him." He lowered his eyes, knowing that Mike's father disliked excessive freebies. "I'll pay for it if ye' want," he offered.

Mike, normally a laid-back manager, spoke with the most serious tone any of them had ever heard. "I'm not worried about the drink. I don't care how nice, or how proper he was, or even how big of a tip he left you. You watch yourself around him, you hear me?" he said, standing very close to Rory, his jaw set firm. "Vampires are dangerous, and can't be trusted. I don't want to see you get hurt. I'm telling you this, not as your manager, but as your friend."

The Irish teen sighed and slumped his shoulders. "I'll be fine. I'm clumsy, not stupid. Now if ye' would all let me alone, I 'ave tables to wipe down and inventory to log so I can go home." He was obviously annoyed by their bigotry, especially from a trio of minorities themselves, but he tried to keep in mind that they were only looking out for him. They just didn't understand, however, that the vampire—Sam—meant no ill will to anyone. He could feel it in his very being.

-ooo-

The very next evening, Sam was sitting in the exact same seat as the night before, waiting patiently for his favored waiter. He smiled brightly as the young man approached the table, a smile across his own lips. "It's nice to see you again, Rory," he said softly, speaking before the boy had time to greet him.

"Hi! Nice to see ye', too." Rory's eyes were shining with excitement upon speaking to his new vampire associate. "Thank ye' so much for the tip last night. It was far too generous, especially since I messed up ye'r order." He lowered his eyes bashfully.

Sam waved his hand dismissively. "You didn't mess it up. How were you supposed to know to heat it up when I'm the first of my kind to come here? Do you realize how badly people like myself get treated in public places?" he asked. "You were respectful, attentive, and quite pleasant to talk to. I value that."

The Irish teen's face flushed, unsure of how to respond to that. "I… uh… thank ye'. I just think people deserve to be treated nice until they start acting mean." He knew it sounded cliché and a little bit lame, but it was true—he very much liked to be nice to everyone and make friends whenever he could. "So uh, what can I get for ye'?" he asked, not thinking about the fact that it was a silly question given that vampires only consume one thing.

The vampire smiled, finding the boy's awkwardness endearing. "I'll take a Tru Blood, whatever you have in the back. Heated, please," he added with a sly grin.

"I'll have it ready for ye' in just a few minutes." Rory quickly marked the order down on his notepad and shuffled off to the kitchen, stumbling over his shoelace. Sam couldn't help but let his eyes lock onto the boy's firm looking rear, his black jeans accentuating his curves in just the right places. Rory looked so innocent with his big, shining, ocean-blue eyes, his pale skin, perfectly parted hair, and the subtle scent of his cologne when he stood near. Altogether it was an intoxicating combination no matter how pure the teen appeared.

A few minutes later, Rory returned with a tray, a Tru Blood sitting in the middle of it. His two co-workers were staring the pair down, the dark-skinned woman looking particularly fierce. Sam gave the two people a friendly smile, trying to put them at ease. It didn't seem to work, as neither of them changed their expressions.

"Your friends seem…" Sam trailed off, searching for the right word to describe their less than pleased demeanors. "…attentive."

"I'm sorry. They've ne'er met a vampire before either, and they're kind o' nervous. They believe too much o' what they see in the news." Rory was disappointed that his friends were being so obvious about their disdain. "I told them ye' were a nice man, but they're still skeptical. I'm sorry if they make ye' feel unwelcome," he apologized, taking a moment to look back at them with a scowl. "Chill out!" he mouthed to them.

Trying to ignore the harsh glares, Sam accepted the Tru Blood that Rory handed him, nice and warm as he liked it. He sipped it for a moment, and then licked the red liquid from his lips. "It's good they care about you so much. Genuine friends can be hard to find." His voice was laced with sadness.

"Don't ye' 'ave any vampire friends?" the teen inquired, cocking his head. The look on Sam's face made him want to lean over and hug the man, offering comfort, but that was obviously not appropriate.

Sam chuckled lightly. "No, not really. I guess I can be a little bit of a loner. I only like genuine friends, and like I said, those are hard to find." He paused for a moment, letting the sentiment sink in. "Maybe you'd like to be friends, Rory. I could show you vampire culture, and you can show me modern human culture. I have been out of the loop for a while, so to speak. Maybe if your friends see that I'm really not someone to be feared, they'll open up to the idea of being friends with a vampire."

Rory was surprised by the suggestion. "Ye' want to be friends with me?"

"Why not? You're very nice, obviously not bigoted. I promise you, I won't hurt you. I just want someone to spend some time with, 'hang out' as they say. Will you give me a chance?" the blonde vampire asked, a pleading look in his eyes.

Rory could tell just by looking at him that he was being honest—that Sam really did just want a friend and didn't mean any harm. Kurt and Mercedes would think he was bonkers, trusting Sam solely on his word, but he had done just the very same with them—accepting them right away and now they were very good friends. There was no reason it couldn't be the same with a vampire.

"I think it'd be great to be your friend. I know what it's like, not 'aving any friends. I 'ave plenty now, but at first I was on me own," the brunette said, giving Sam a comforting smile.

"Thank you, for giving me a chance," Sam said, reaching out and lightly taking Rory's hand. "You're a kind person. When's your next night off?"

Rory thought a moment, recalling the work schedule. "Oh yeah, Friday, actually. It's me weekend off for once," he answered happily.

"Well, may I take you out to dinner Friday evening, so we can chat and get to know each other better? Platonically, of course," Sam invited with a goofy grin. "Friends should know things about each other, after all."

The young teen smiled yet again. "That'd be great, I'd love to. It's been a while since I've been out anyway."

"Great. Write down your phone number and address and I can pick you up," Sam instructed. While anyone else would have called Rory insane for divulging such personal information to a stranger, he felt perfectly comfortable with the request. Perhaps it was Sam's easy smile, or maybe it was his alluring eyes, but either way Rory felt like he could trust him and scribbled the information on his notepad and tore out the page, handing it to the blonde. When Rory flipped his pad closed, his pen jumped out of his fingers and onto the table.

"I'll pick you up at eight-thirty then," Sam declared, his goofy grin reappearing as he plucked the pen from the tabletop and handed it to the teen. He could still see the other two people glaring threateningly at him—a silent warning not to bring harm to their friend. He hoped they wouldn't convince the boy to cancel on him. Rory had been the most welcoming person he had come across since coming to Ohio, and losing the opportunity to foster a friendship with him would seriously hurt. Even after one hundred years, Sam was still vulnerable to his emotions, something many vampires had come to neglect.

"You gave him your phone number? And address? Are you stupid?" Mercedes demanded upon discovering Rory's plans for Friday night.

The teen looked hurt by her comment, but again he tried to remember she was only trying to look out for him. "No, I'm not stupid. He's a nice man, and he needs a friend. Nobody else will give him a chance and I don't see why I shouldn't. I gave both of ye' a chance and look how close we are now."

Kurt frowned. "You really are clueless, Rory. He's probably glamouring you so he can get you alone and drain you dry." With Kurt on one side of him, and Mercedes on the other, Rory was starting to feel ganged up on.

"Me mind is made up. I'm going to 'ave dinner with him Friday night, and that's that. It's just dinner, and I'm a good judge of character," the Irishman insisted sternly, looking from Kurt to Mercedes and back.

"You're too trusting is what you are. At least send us a text message so we know you're safe with him," Kurt replied with a huff, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"I don't like this one bit, Rory Flanagan, but you're gonna do it, so at least be smart about it. Wear a silver chain or something around your neck, and maybe even a silver watch or something. Just have some silver on you. Just in case," Mercedes pleaded. Unlike Kurt, she knew fussing at him was only going to do but so much good.

"I'll be safe. I promise. E'erything will be just fine, and nothing bad will happen, and then ye'll see he's just a nice man who needs a friend, just like I said." He didn't like lying, so he didn't commit to keeping silver on his person, just that he'd be safe, and that could mean anything.

Rory turned to walk away, leaving his two friends alone to pout and scowl all they wanted, but nothing they said or did was going to change his mind.

-ooo-

"Are you sure you don't want a ride?" Mike asked as he turned the lock on the door to the Lima Bean. Rory had stayed late to help him close up shop since Tina had the night off and he was always looking to make a little extra cash.

"I promise, I'm fine. Brittany should be here anytime now," Rory assured him. Mike didn't look convinced in the least, pursing his lips in a look of skepticism. "I sent her a text message. She's on her way," he added confidently.

Mike sighed. Rory was stubborn, hating to inconvenience anyone. "I really don't like you staying out here all by yourself at night. I'd stay with you, but… my dad is kind of insistent I be home by nine thirty. Kinda sad, huh? Eighteen and still under his thumb," he said, rolling his eyes at himself. "You'd think the fact that I'm manager of the business he owns, he'd cut me some slack. Anyway, look, if Brittany isn't here in fifteen minutes, call me and I'll come get you. Dad will just have to get over it."

The Irish teen shook his head and smiled. "I'll be fine. Go home, Mike," he insisted, giving him a confident grin. Being not only from another country, but also the youngest on the staff and in the group of friends, everyone was constantly worrying about him, as if he needed coddling or was fragile. He had said it many times over; he was clumsy, not stupid.

Mike shrugged. "Alright. Fifteen minutes though, no more," he ordered sternly. Rory gave him a nod while Mike walked to his car, got inside, and gave Rory a quick wave as he started up. Rory gave him a thumbs up with both hands as the elder teen pulled out of the parking lot.

-ooo-

Fifteen minutes had passed and Brittany had neither arrived, nor was answering her phone via text or call. She could be an airhead sometimes, but she usually didn't ignore a phone call. Unless… unless she was occupied with a date.

I really don't wanna call Mike. He'll get in trouble and he won't say he's mad, but he'll be annoyed, Rory thought. Feeling embarrassed that he had assured his manager so confidently, but instead was without a ride, he scrolled back through his text messages to make completely sure Brittany was on her way.

A muffled noise broke his concentration. It sounded like it came from behind the building—an area that only had the faintest of light right above the back door, near the garbage cans. It wasn't exactly a place he wanted to go, especially if there was something going on back there, but… he heard the sound a second time, and this time it sounded like an animal or maybe a very young person.

The noise came a third time, and it was then that Rory decided whatever it was, it sounded like it was in distress. What if it's an animal, and it's hurt? Or a little kid? I have to make sure, they might need help.

Letting his kind nature take hold of him, he crept to the back of the building, peering cautiously around the corner. As he expected, there was an animal, and it was hurt, because three teenagers—the same three teenagers that had been in the Lima Bean a couple of nights before—were kicking at it. As he came from around the corner he could see it was a dog, but it wasn't barking. It was only whimpering, favoring its paw as it backed away from the teasing boys.

"Hey! Hey!" Rory shouted as he stepped into full view of the teens. Luckily the lack of light hid his uneasy stance. "Stop that! Right now!" He approached the boys, forgetting that he was alone, and there were three of them. One of them was his height, about six feet. The other two were a little shorter, one of them rotund.

"What are you gonna do to stop us if we don't, huh?" the tallest one smirked, pushing the dog backward with the tip of his shoe. "There's three of us, and one of you. Your best bet is to just turn around and walk away."

"No," Rory said confidently. "What did that dog do to ye'? Ye' 'ave no right to hurt him!" He stepped closer to them, hoping that his height would intimidate at least the smaller two. His heart was pounding, but he knew he needed to keep a fierce resolve.

"That dog bit me, that's what he did!" the skinny, short boy declared, glaring at the dog. "I was only trying to pet it."

The portly boy snickered. "Oh whatever, John. You smacked the little fucker. You deserved to get bit," he said. The other boy, John, glared at him and hissed a warning to shut up.

The tall boy started to laugh as his two cronies bickered back and forth. "Shut up, guys. We got this little… problem to deal with." He turned his gaze to Rory, giving him a snarky grin. "So, back to my original question. What are you gonna do to stop us? You don't have that hottie waitress to help you out this time."

Scared, but knowing that he had no choice but to stand firm, Rory put on his most fearsome face. "Leave the dog alone, now," he ordered harshly, boring his eyes into the tallest boy's smirking face. "Don't make me kick ye'r arse." He knew the threat was lame. Three boys against just him, a person who had not a bone of violence in his body, he was as good as dead, but what else could he say that would even begin to sound intimidating? If they attacked him, the worst he could do to them was fall over and accidentally push one of them into the trash bin.

The tall boy scoffed, his friends suddenly agitated. "Come on, Eric, let's just get the fuck out of here before that faggot calls the cops or some shit," the fat boy urged. "I'm sick of this bullshit."

Eric ignored him and started closing in on his new opponent. Before Rory could react, Eric grabbed him by the shirt collar and shoved him up against one of the large garbage cans. "He ain't callin' nobody. I'm gonna give him a nice fat lip to shut that yap of his. Might even fix that speech problem he's got." True to his word, he pulled his fist back, and seeing only a blur, Rory felt pain exploding in his jaw. Twice. Three times. He could taste blood in his mouth.

Dizzied by the attack on his face, Rory didn't realize at first that his feet were kicked out from under him, sending him sprawling to the ground. He felt pain in his breastbone as his full weight crashed down on his chest when he hit the pavement. Blood dripped out of his mouth, coming from his bleeding lips. He spat on the ground, afraid teeth were going to come flying out as well.

"You fuckers gonna help me out or what?" Eric bellowed to his cohorts. John seemed to have no problem with the idea of beating a younger teenager, but the fat boy was apprehensive, backing up slightly. "Don't be a pussy, Bill! Billy boy!" Eric teased, trying to discourage his friend from chickening out.

More pain exploded in Rory's body as he felt shoes slamming into his side, pushing him back against the trash bin. He was being kicked relentlessly, most likely by two pairs of feet, but the pain was agonizing and his brain couldn't think. All he could feel was pain.

There was a ringing in his head, and he felt something wet leaking down the sides of his face, not just from his eyes, but from his ears as well. His head exploded again as it slammed against the metal bin, and he could hear the faint crack of his nose breaking, followed by another kick to the chest, another loud cracking sound – one of his ribs giving way, probably. He was in so much agony, his breath feeling so short and strained, he just knew that he was dying. There was no way he would survive—he had lost too much blood, he was certain of it. No way that amount of pain and injury couldn't be accompanied by massive blood loss.

Something suddenly happened. Everything stopped. He felt no more kicking. Heard no more shouting. I must have died. It's all over, he thought. His eyes were swollen, and he could barely see, but he could make out something in front of him. Streaks. Blurry images. What looked like people flying and then falling. The only sound he heard was a sudden screaming, and then silence. More streaks, and then he cried out in pain as something touched him.

Despite the misery, the sensation he felt was almost pleasant. He hadn't expected it in the least. It felt like… flesh. Smooth, tender flesh. Cool flesh. If he could shiver, he would have, or maybe he did, either way his body didn't register anything but the touch. More pain suddenly shot through his body as he was being moved. Whoever was touching him was turning him, pushing him onto his back, something propping his head up. He coughed, blood coming up and drooling down his chin.

"Rory… don't worry, you're safe now," came a familiar and soothing voice. A face was hovering over him, one that was blurry through swollen eyes and tears, but he could see what looked like light-colored hair. Blonde hair. Something else stood out, something slightly darker than the rest of the pale face. Something that made him think of lips. Full lips. Then he saw green. Two bright green orbs above him, vivid and calming. He knew who it was by those eyes.

"Sam?" the wounded teen croaked out. "Am I… Am I gonna… I… I don't wanna die… But I think I am." He shut his eyes, the brightness above him had started to give him a headache. It was the light above the back door. "Sam, please don't let me die."

Sam was surprisingly calm considering he was holding his new friend in his arms, badly beaten to death. He brushed the hair from Rory's forehead, a gesture that he felt necessary because he had seen similar in so many films over the years.

"You're not gonna die. I promise you that," Sam assured him in the same soothing tone he had used when he first spoke to the teen. "I can heal you." He took his hand from Rory's forehead and brought his wrist to his mouth. Sam made a faint grunt as drops of blood began to trickle down onto the boy's swollen lips.

"Wh-what are ye' doing?" the teen asked, taking great pains to speak. He could taste the coppery flavor of something unfamiliar. It was different from the taste of his own blood. It was almost sweet underneath the metallic tang.

"Drink," Sam ordered in a firmer tone. "My blood, it can heal you. Drink. Now," he urged, putting his bleeding wrist to the boy's lips. He could feel Rory's body beginning to quiver, beginning to lose heat.

"I don't wanna be a vampire…" Rory declared.

"You won't be, I swear. Stop wasting time. Drink." Sam ordered again. Before the teen could protest again, Sam pressed his wrist firmly against Rory's mouth. He could feel the boy's lips part ever so slightly, and then open as far as he could manage given the circumstances. He could feel himself start to weaken just a bit as his blood began to flow into the hungry mouth. The more the liquid flowed, the more urgently the boy pulled the force of life into his throat.

"There, good, keep drinking," Sam cooed softly. Rory lifted one of his arms and wrapped his hand loosely around Sam's forearm, forcing the source of his sustenance to stay locked against him as he feverishly drank.

The blonde grimaced as he felt the draining from his wrist. He pulled away from the desperate mouth, his strength easily overtaking Rory's weak attempt at keeping him close. "Okay, that's enough," he said firmly. He flexed his arm and the self-inflicted wound quickly closed up, the only evidence a patch of red where Rory had suckled. He gazed down at the teen, the color beginning to return to his eyes, the swelling starting to lessen. The open wounds from the attack sealed up, a very strange sensation. Rory felt like he was being stitched up like a rag doll, except it didn't hurt. In fact, the pain that was overtaking him only moment earlier was receding. It was subsiding so quickly it began to disappear altogether.

"There we are," Sam said with a smile. He watched patiently as the final effects of the blood healed his friend. "How do you feel?"

The brunette brought his hands to his chest. "Me chest. Me ribs, they feel okay. E'erything feels okay. Me face doesn't hurt. I can see clear again. Me headache is gone. I feel… great…" He licked his lips, tasting the last drops of blood.

"Then let's sit you up. Lean up against the trashcan a minute, get yourself together. I'm going to take a moment and heal this poor animal," Sam instructed, helping the boy into a sitting position.

Despite feeling so good, the world still seemed out of sorts, sensations of not understanding what was going on filling his head. He closed his eyes a moment, breathing deeply, trying to relax.

Meanwhile, Sam slowly ambled toward the ailing pup that had backed itself up into a corner between the metal bin and the back door. Sam could feel his body weakening from the significant amount of blood he had given up. It was giving him a headache but he remained stoic. The last thing he wanted to do was alarm his young friend.

Sam bit his wrist once more, and then crouched down in front of the animal, offering up his sustenance. The dog was obviously skeptical, staring at his would-be healer. With a little more urging from the vampire, it began to lap at the bloody wrist, drinking down the offering.

Rory wasn't sure how long he waited, but he opened his eyes when he felt something slimy and wet at his hand. The dog. It was happily licking Rory's hand, nudging him with its nose. Rory smiled as he petted the creature, relieved to see that he, too, was safe and sound again.

"I think I might keep him. He might be a good companion, don't you think?" Sam asked cheerfully. It wasn't normal for vampires to keep pets, but this one was special. This one had its life saved by a boy who risked his own safety to protect it. It deserved a good home. "A fantasy I suppose. He needs a family who can walk him in the sunlight." He reached over and scratched the dog behind the ears, the creature making a noise of satisfaction. "He probably belongs to someone anyway. Keep an eye on him though, in case he does need a home."

"What did ye' do t'me? To the dog?" the teen asked, the animal settling into his lap." We were both about to die, but now we're fine."

Sam grinned. "I healed you with my blood. Vampire blood is extremely powerful to humans. And animals. It's life force, so to speak."

"It's amazing. I mean, at first it tasted like metal and sugar, but the more I drank, the better it tasted. I couldn't believe I was drinking it, but it was… addictive," the teen admitted, his eyes widening as his mouth turned up in a slight grin. "It was like… e'erything I love to drink, all mixed together."

"That's why people want it. It's like a drug. People drain vampires and sell the blood for an insane amount of money," Sam explained. "You just got a ton of it, for free. The addicts would be jealous," he added with a grin. Rory looked confused. "You have no idea what I'm talking about, do you? No, of course you don't. The only people that would know about that are fangbangers and addicts, and of course the sellers and drainers."

"Fangbanger?"

"It's what they call people who have sex with vampires. Particularly ones that let themselves be fed on, and that get high on vampire blood," Sam replied. "I'm sorry; this is all so much for you, isn't it?" He caressed Rory's cheek with the back of his hand, feeling the sticky, still-damp blood from the assault. "You're a good person, Rory. You risked yourself for that animal. You're willing to give a vampire a chance when nobody else will."

Rory smiled softly. "I just… I don't like people bein' judged, and I don't like anyone, animal or human, to be hurt. Especially if they can't defend themselves. It's not right."

Sam's eyes softened as he smiled again. He looked at the boy, his green eyes glossing over his body as if checking to make sure the blood had fully healed his friend.

"Healing… is… is that all it does, the blood?" Rory asked. "I'm not- it's not gonna make me a… monster, right?" He regretted his choice of words immediately, but it was too late—he had said something he knew had to be offensive.

"I am not a monster," Sam growled. Upon seeing the frightened look on the boy's face, he sighed and apologized. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Monster is a pretty harsh thing to say, but I'll overlook that. You don't know any better. But no, you're not gonna turn into a vampire, a zombie, or a magical little fairy. There's more that has to happen before any changing occurs."

His face flushing, the teen stared down at the ground. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to insult ye'," he said. "Especially after ye' just saved me life. I swear I didn't mean any harm."

Sam smiled and lifted the boy's chin with his fingertips. "It's okay. I'll forgive you, but only because you're my friend." Rory smiled in response, his eyes fully restored to their rich blue; Sam couldn't help but stare into them.

"I'm so sorry, Rory. I wish I'd gotten here sooner. By the time I heard everything happening, it was too late to stop it. I hate to think of what would have happened if I didn't hear anything at all," Sam lamented. His friend looked at him with great confusion. "I could sense something was wrong. I didn't know what, but I was sitting at home, and got this… feeling. Like something was wrong. I didn't understand it at first, but somehow I just knew you needed help. I've never felt something like that before. I'll be able to sense you now that you've had my blood, but before that, I can't explain it."

"All that matters is that ye' came at all." They sat there, smiling at each other, staring into one another's eyes. After a moment, Sam scrunched up his face, confusion awash over his features. "What's wrong?" Rory inquired.

"I… it isn't working," Sam frowned. "Don't be upset, but, I was trying to erase the memory of this entire thing happening. I didn't want you to have to remember something so awful, but it wasn't working. It was like… Usually when a vampire initiates a glamour, you're drawn into my eyes, put in a trance, but with you, it just wasn't taking hold. A fish that refuses to bite the lure so to speak. I don't know how else to explain it," Sam said, searching the boy's face for signs of anger. Instead he found relief.

"I couldn't read ye' either," Rory admitted. "When I touch people, I can see their memories if I want to. Well, sort of if I want to. Sometimes it just happens. When ye' touched me the other night, I couldn't see ye'. It was like nothing was there to look at. No flood o' images filling me head, no unwanted information. Just silence. It was… nice."

The corner of Sam's mouth began to turn upward. "Looks like there's more to you than meets the eye, Rory." The teen blushed as if he were being complimented or something. Sam took a glance down at his watch. "It's late. You need to get home. Perhaps we can discuss your ability further another time, if you wish."

Rory nodded. "What about me clothes? I'm covered in blood. E'eryone will want t'know what happened," he said, worried.

The vampire reached over to stroke the boy's hair. "Don't worry. I'll take you to my home, and you can change, wash up if you desire. I have clothes that should fit you. If you're okay with coming to my home, that is. I'll understand if you're not comfortable coming to my house alone."

Rory stood up, off balance at first, but got his bearings back rather quickly. "I've had ye'r blood in me body. Ye' saved me from dying. If ye' wanted to hurt me, ye'd 'ave left me t'die. I trust ye'." He held out his hand to assist Sam in standing up, the older man relieved.

"Thank you," Sam said. "Now, get in my arms, and hold onto me. We've got a ways to go, and I'm gonna get us there in vampire speed." Rory raised an eyebrow skeptically, but as he said, he trusted Sam, so he allowed himself to be cradled in the man's arms, wrapping his own around Sam's neck. He then felt a rush of air and everything went blurry before his eyes. He closed them, the rushing scenery dizzying him slightly. It wasn't until they arrived at their destination that the world seemed to return to a normal speed.

-ooo-

Once they arrived at Sam's home, the vampire gave him spare clothes to wear, and offered his bathroom for him to wash up in. Sam politely let him have his privacy, taking advantage of the time to rest himself. He had already felt weakened after rescuing Rory and the dog, but the mad dash home was almost too much. He leaned back in his recliner and closed his eyes.

"I'm all cleaned up," Rory announced, coming into the room. "I left me clothes in the sink, just like ye' said to." Sam opened his eyes and stood upon the boy's entrance, looking him over, pleased.

"You look much better now. The clothes fit nicely. I wish you could stay, but I need to get you home right away, before anyone gets worried," Sam informed him, his voice laced with sadness.

Rory closed the distance between them and took Sam's hand, looking up at him. "Thank ye', Sam, for e'erything. I'm so lucky to 'ave ye' as a friend. Not just for the rescue and the blood, but because ye'r so… genuine."

Since becoming a vampire, it was very rare that Sam ever felt anything but confident, but with this young teenager, with his beautiful sapphire eyes, his pleasant smile, Sam couldn't help but let nervousness creep into his body.

Sam snapped out of his light daze as he felt Rory's arms wrap around him in a tight hug. At first it surprised him, but then he relaxed, letting himself enjoy the strong embrace.

"Alright, time for you to hold on again. When we get there, I'll drop you off a couple of houses down so nobody sees us. You can tell your family that a friend gave you a ride, but didn't have time to stay," Sam directed.

Rory nodded. "That sounds like a good idea. I hope I don't get Brittany in trouble. She means well, but she can be a little… unreliable." Both of them chuckled, the sentiment funny to Sam even though he knew nothing about the girl except that she was apparently supposed to see him home but never showed.

The teen let himself be cradled in Sam's arms once again, holding on for dear life. Within minutes they arrived at the street Brittany's family lived on, and as planned, Sam let him down two houses away.

As Rory began to walk away, he paused before he even got ten feet. "Sam? Our dinner Friday night… can we make it a date?"

Sam smiled wide, one side of his lips higher than the other. "I'd love that. I'm glad you still want to go."

"O' course I want to go. Ye'r me friend, remember?" He smiled, his eyes twinkling in the moonlight. "Good night, Sam. Thank ye' again, for e'erything," the teen said, turning again and walking away as Sam waved to him. The vampire didn't leave until he saw that Rory was safely in the house, and even then he hesitated a minute before going back to his own home, albeit at a much slower pace. He was going to need a pick-me-up when he got there and a day's sleep to restore his strength. Despite the enfeeblement he was feeling, he was happy. Rory was worth every bit of it.