The Vampire Daniel

July 1999

DISCLAIMERS: I don't own them, just use them. Please don't sue one with no cash.

SPOILERS: Up to TVA

May 15, 1999

When you look in the mirror, what do you see? I bet you see the kid you were, grown up into an adult you don't want to be. Like, your nose ended up like your dad's, or your hair's going all gray early like your Aunt Edna's, or something. Dumb, human stuff that is perfectly normal. Well, what if you got up and every night you saw the same face staring at you in disbelief. Like your eyes don't believe you either.

Yeah, that's what I face every night. I don't have to shave, don't have to pat my sagging beer belly and swear to lay off the potato chips. I just look, and sometimes I stare for a while. I cut my hair when I need some variety, but that doesn't last that long. The next night-bang- just like that; it's back. Something like the Blob.

So, now you're asking, "OK, man, what's the deal? Liposuction? Delusions?" Nope. It's because I got exactly what I wanted for once. I'm the Vampire Daniel.

Dear God, that sounds so lame! OK, so my name is Daniel, and I'm a vampire. No kidding. And my brother's dog belonged to President Reagan. No really, I'm a vampire because back in the eighties I got tangled up with this little red-haired imp named Armand. Knock out, that kid. Knocked me flat on my ass, and I came crawling back for more. I wanted this, I begged him for it. So, I got what I wanted and lost the imp. Bummer.

Big bummer, really. Of all the things in my life, he was the most pure, the most beautiful. Sounds drippy, but it's true. The most pure, because he didn't ever pretend. He knew what he was, angel and killer, and he didn't hide it from me. I made up some little dreams about what he was, and what he was to me, but he never did. The most beautiful? God, if you saw him once, that'd answer it for you. He looks really young, teenager, and he's tall enough to not be a midget and short enough to hold. Pale, pale skin that makes his deep brown eyes almost glow. In the right light, you can see these streaks of russet in them. The hair is kind of long, curly and wild down his back. He cuts it sometimes, but I like it down. It's auburn, with these almost golden-red highlights that match that russet in his eyes. I could go on like this for hours, waxing all poetic, but it's useless. You just have to see him to believe it.

I kind of left him after he made me into a vampire finally. We fought a lot, like we did when I was mortal, but it was meaner.

I mean, like the one time, he started in on me about going out for so long. Come on!

"What, are you my mom now, Armand? What the hell happened to lovers, equal partnership?" I was screaming at the top of my lungs. He just stood there, real calm.

"Daniel, it simply isn't safe to be gone so long."

"Simply isn't safe," I mimicked, watching his eyes narrow. "Christ, Armand, I'm a vampire, remember? I can take care of myself."

"I am your maker." He paused to take a quick breath and I interrupted him. So I was never real big on manners.

"Yeah, so I'm the wussy fledgling getting left behind. Bug off!" Then, the waterworks. Blood tears just appeared in those big brown eyes.

"Daniel, I love you. You are my guide, my love."

"Just shut up! Shut your mouth! I don't need this. Get off the cross, Armand!" His mouth opened in a soundless gasp and I swear to God, I thought he was just going to explode. He strode over like he was my father. I instantly knew he was going to hit me. Yeah, right!

I ducked away, pretty clumsy, but effective. Suddenly, I just wanted to whack him. Before he could recover, or yell some more at me, I ran from the room. I felt vaguely adolescent, but it was the only thing to do. Yeah, that's Danny Molloy. Stand there and get pummeled. Um, let me think about it...NO! This was not high school.

So, it got like this and there was no more kissing and making up. Blood kiss. Whatever. Pretty fantasy I'd been living. Finally, I got real fed up with the whole routine. So I left.

Well, it wasn't that simple, really. I packed a little bit every day for two weeks. I don't know if I was scared he'd find out or if I wanted him to catch me. He did neither and I finally had one suitcase ready to go. Don't laugh; I'm really bad at packing. I bought the plane ticket that night, to New York I think, and had it held at the airport.

Most of the others had left the Night Island already. Oh, the Night Island is this cozy little spot (OK, fine, it's a freaking empire) that my little imp, Armand, bought and gave to me. He did it to make me a content mortal. I never settle for second best. Anyway, Louis and Lestat had gone off, crazy lovebirds, and I remember that only Marius was in the living room with Armand. Marius, Armand's maker. That would make him my grandfather, in some sick perverted way. They were sitting down, Marius on the loveseat that I hated and Armand was curled up in this big armchair. I don't remember exactly what Marius looked like that night, but I can see Armand as though I had a photograph.

No shoes on, wearing this sleeveless silk shirt that was just to his waist. It was dark green, and when he moved a little, I could see tiny peeks of a white stomach. The pants were also green silk, kind of baggy. But, since it was silk, his slim legs were pretty defined through the thin material. His hair was long and curling around his face, eyes really wide. Like a painting, though he hates when people say that. He had an open book on his lap, but he had been discussing something with Marius. I don't know, probably philosophy, or why ancient people didn't wear underwear. They have weird talks.

I stood there on the doorway, and I could feel his eyes making the circuit. Looking me up and down. He practically convulsed when he finally made it to my single piece of luggage.

He stood up, slowly, gracefully, like he does everything. But the book dropped to the floor with a crash, and even though Marius winced, he didn't pick it up.

"Where are you going, Daniel?" he asked, his voice gone all low and spooky. He has this accent, sometimes you don't even notice it. When he's upset, or emotional, you hear it. I sure as hell heard it.

"Armand, face it," I said, trying to play macho. "We fight all the time, we can't stand each other. So, absence makes the heart grow fonder. I'm cutting out for a while."

"Like the old days," he whispered. The tell-tale red had gathered in his deep brown eyes, and I didn't want to look.

"Yeah." He seemed to droop, hair falling in his face, hands that had been on his hips falling to his sides. I felt like a kid who has just crushed some beautiful bug. I felt that I had to say something.

"Hey, I'll probably see you again. I mean, we have eternity." He looked up at that. He didn't smile, didn't nod, just looked at me with eyes suddenly too big for his face. I felt guilty again, but I hadn't done anything wrong. Had I? I leaned forward to kiss him and was surprised to taste blood tears in the kiss. I mean, we had barely talked to each other in days. I savored it, though. Then turned and walked out, waving bye to Marius. He waved back, and just before I closed the front door, I heard my imp whisper,

"Addio, Daniel. Te adoro." OK, My Latin's not that good, but I knew that one. Farewell, Daniel. I love you. Sweet, right.? Wrong. It's something like you'd say as a final good bye. Creepy. Couple months later I figured out why I had the creeps while travelling. My little imp, my beautiful Armand, had gone into the sun. When I found out, reading David's book in a store, I sat down on the floor and cried. Right there, in front of everyone. I was ignored. I wished I could get drunk, then. Too bad. Like I said, I had gotten exactly what I asked for this time. Then why the hell was I crying?

I kept telling myself, "Hey, Danny, it's a book. You know Lestat's not always accurate. So, don't sit here crying, man! Go play X-Files." I couldn't just let it go, you know? So, whipping out that cool little credit card that cures more than Motrin IB, the breakfast of champions, I set out to find out what had really happened. All set in my snazzy new clothes and all that, I headed over to the Big Apple. As I told Louis, "It can't end like that." Wow. I just quoted myself.

Oh, cool, you're still with me. Daniel Molloy, reporter boy. It's nice to be known. I have to tell my own story. No reporter's that desperate.

Anyhow, so I got to NYC real late the next night. I mean, just enough time to dump my stuff on the bed in the hotel room, and get my coffin out of the crate it was traveling in. Have you ever tried taking a trip with one of those suckers? God, they are definitely not travel-sized for convenience. Now there's an idea! Pop-up travel coffins. Yeah, I can see that on the market now. All those cruising corpses will be in line for hours on end. OK, that's enough before I make myself ill.

Well, I basically fell into the thing and was dead asleep. Enough cash spread among the peons in the lobby when I made my less than grand entrance made sure that I wouldn't be woken up at noon by some maid who couldn't speak English who wanted to air out my room. Oh, wouldn't that be peachy. How do you like your vampire? Fried or toasted? That thought seemed real funny at first, but then I remembered Armand, and I just kind of stood there in the expensive lobby. I probably had my mouth open like a fish or something, because people were staring. Well, they were either gaping at that or my red Converse sneakers. I like those sneakers; they went great with my new black suit. Armand would have had a coronary. See, everything went back to him, everything. It sucked that I couldn't dress, sleep, even joke, without him invading my thoughts like a ...hold on, I'm fishing for a word. Oh well, lost it. You should have seen the one that got away. I really can't stay on topic, sorry.

OK, so where were we? Oh, yeah, I found out, I went to New York, I slept. So when I got up the next night, I was like, "What am I doing here?" I mean, I had been happily enjoying a dream that was me and Armand and ...hey, I can't tell you that! It was great; I could see him just like he was there, and I just hugged him and didn't let go and he didn't pull away or nag or lecture. Just let his little body be close to me and it felt real good. So when I woke up, in a strange place and he wasn't there, I felt kind of betrayed. A second later it all hit me again, but I took it like a man. No more tears; that would be wimpy and besides, this blood tears deal really screws up your wardrobe. Like, for all that Lestat cries, he should invest in an all- red line of clothes. Man.

I turned on the TV and the radio to just have some noise around. I was pretty calm, considering; I showered and put myself into place. Gelled my hair even. Looked just like Sting. Well, not just like, but close. I kind of dressed up in a nice new suit. All black, even the shirt. I looked pretty smooth when I saw myself in the mirror, but I looked like I was going to a funeral. I ripped the clothes off, refusing to think along those lines. Jeans and a T-shirt and to hell with anyone who complains. This is just a visit, I told myself, to clear up a little misunderstanding. I can handle this. Yeah, and Elvis joined me for dinner last night.

So I wandered around New York for awhile, playing tourist and lost soul. I mean, I knew where I should go. Take a hike over to the church. That's where it happened, that's where they had that towel that he did it for. I corrected myself really fast. I mean, Lestat said he did it for. Much better, though it didn't make my chest any looser.

I took a taxi all over creation and finally ended up where I figured I would. Big cathedral, stone and mortar. It looked like something from "The Hunchback of Notre Dame." Hmm. The steps were wide and flat and dark grey. Fallen tombstones. The streetlights were that disgusting orange that pretends to be yellow and the shadows looked kind of sick. I paid off the driver and got out of the taxi real slow. The driver reached through the window and grabbed my arm. Peachy, a mugging driver. Just my luck.

"You OK, son?" he asked in heavily accented English. I must have looked pretty bad to concern a taxi driver in NYC. I caught a glimpse of my face in the rear view mirror and was forced to agree. I tried to smile and pathetically my lips pulled back from my teeth.

"No, I'm good. Thanks though. Have a good night." I pulled away before this dude could remind me some more of how miserable I was. He pulled the taxi away and I was left alone with my imp's execution spot. There wasn't a nasty splotch mark on the stone, thank God. That would have sucked and I definitely would have tossed my cookies. But there wasn't a plaque either, and it seemed kind of pointless.

The church was open and I strolled in, like I was a Ghostbuster or something. But the quiet and the mood and the darkness made me almost tiptoe toward the altar at the front. Couple of candles, paintings, statues; it looked pretty much like any other Catholic church Armand had dragged me to. Too bad he wasn't here now to complain to.

"Oh, Daniel!" At the sound of my name, I spun on my heel. God, if I had been mortal, I would have needed a serious change of clothes! There was someone there in the shadows and I ran toward him. I was caught by a pair of strong arms and just held. Kind of weird. I mean, to be an adult and get hugged like that. It wasn't Armand. He could pick me up, but then, he could juggle Pontiacs if he felt like it. But he couldn't hold me like that. It was my job to hold him. I looked up into blue eyes that, like mine, were just dripping tears. My grandpa, Marius.

"He isn't here, ragazzo." My shoulders were shaking like crazy, and all I could say was,

"I know!" He's gone, I thought. Extinct. Dead. No, those words didn't work for him. Something that perfect can't be dead like a pet goldfish or a car battery. Marius just kept hugging me, and I could just feel how upset he was. I was so ticked; I didn't want it to be true. It couldn't be true. Not when I had come back for him, not when I had finally figured out that I couldn't live without him. Just my luck, right?

"Come to New Orleans, Daniel. The others are there, with Lestat."

"Who cares about him! I want Armand!" Marius pulled back a little and I wiped my nose and eyes on my sleeve. Well, there goes another shirt.

"Daniel, he's gone. Come with us."

"No, he can't be! I don't believe you!" I turned away and ran out of there at full speed. No way in Hell was I going to go make sure Lestat was all happy and cool while my imp was ...no, not dead! I took a plane out of there that night.

-"Homeward Bound" Simon & Garfunkel

The plane dropped me off in Miami. I kind of looked around and thought, "Shit, how did I get here?" I forgot my luggage and ended up making the extra trip to the Night Island. Clever Danny.

It's still pretty busy there, even without our little coven wreaking havoc. I actually had my key to get into the part that Armand built for us. I walked in and it felt like home. Corny, I know, but the pictures on the wall and the couches that I always get in trouble for having my feet on were all the same. But it was quiet; everything was too quiet for me now. With the stereo cranked I felt a little better, but it still was like chilling in a museum.

I wandered around, feeling kind of stoned. I mean, I wasn't but I couldn't focus and everything seemed whacked out and unreal. I dug through the closet in my room for some clothes, showered and changed. I remembered how when I wouldn't get up, Armand would drag me out of bed and give me a bath. The first time he did I swear to God I felt like a dog. But his hands were always warm from feeding and real smooth. Massages 'r Us. And he'd shave me, getting real serious. Like, he'd bite his lip like a little kid trying to color in the lines. If any of his hair got in his way, he'd shove it back behind his ear. It was kind of funny; it was like he was mad at the hair for interrupting. His hair was so silky; I loved to play with it when he wasn't paying attention. Otherwise it would be:

"Daniel, stop it!" Yeah, Daniel, quit being affectionate to your little demon familiar. So I'd sulk and then, if I was lucky, he'd be real sorry and come cuddle.

Now I was sitting cross-legged on my bed, like Chief Little Blue Chicken Foot, wishing he was there to wrestle...hug...look at. Anything. Our fights didn't seem so important, I thought as I hopped off the bed to wander some more.

Armand kept his room so freaking clean I couldn't find anything. But then, I didn't know what I was looking for anyhow. Not like I was going to find my imp playing hide- and -seek behind his racks of CD's or in his huge closet. I stared at some expensive painting on his wall. Angels, you know, with auburn hair and wide brown eyes. Mm-hmm, wonder what that made me think of? It was so clean, his room, that I had this uncontrollable urge to screw it up, make it look lived in.

I was like Animal from the Muppet Show, tearing through the chests and trunks and drawers. Tons of stuff in there, let me tell you. And I kept turning up all these little things that would make me madder. You know, the picture somebody had taken of us while we were all together at our home base. I had grabbed him for a kiss when whoever had snapped it, and we were laughing and his hair was all crazy. I couldn't believe he had it, and the tears just came pouring down. Niagara Falls. Everything was a reminder of when we were happy, not bitching at each other.

He had computer stuff and clothes and tons of jewelry. I sat down on the floor with the box of it. I flung the cover through the open door into the hallway, and heard the cool crunch it made on impact. I think I knocked down a picture, or something. He had rings galore, with big stones, little stones, no stones. I hadn't even see him wear half of them. Lots of garnet, I think. Whatever the dark red one is. I never gave him any of it. Couple of bracelets, kind of junky looking. Plastic stuff you wear to concerts. Necklaces; yeah, a bunch. Crosses in every size, color, and shape. This one was wood, painted black, and it had three crossbars. One of them was slanted. Some other kind of Catholic or something. I never saw him wear that one either.

I took one of the red stone rings and tried it on. Really small; it only fit my pinkie. I was going to take it off when I noticed this little bag at the bottom. I think it was velvet, purple and soft. I dumped it into my hand and was looking at my necklace. My "amulet" as Armand said with his weird ideas and drama. That's where it had gone, the little thief. He had kept it too. All this stuff said that he loved me; then why had he decided to pull a Lestat?

I stood up, stuffing the necklace into my back pocket. I was so pissed, so miserable, so damned lonely. I loved Armand, and I couldn't even tell him. Picking up a lamp, I hurled it at the huge mirror. The glass busted and I remembered us standing, looking in it together. At ourselves, at each other. That just made it worse.

I trashed the room in a matter of minutes, then was scared that he'd find out. That made me laugh out loud. He wasn't there.

"You aren't here!" I screamed, laughing and crying at the same time. "You aren't here and I want to die." Shit, that was it. Bang, hit the nail on the head. I couldn't live without him. It was that simple. So what the hell was I supposed to do?

I stood up, pouting, and looked around. Under other circumstances, I would have been really proud of myself. Hurricane Daniel. Wait, I think there really is a Hurricane Daniel. And no, it wasn't named after me!

So I stood there holding a fancy blown glass bottle Armand had picked up in India. I had found it under his bed. Why a vampire keeps a bed, I'll never know. Unless it's for...well, the other stuff besides sleeping! I looked at the perfume bottle, remembering when Armand had gotten it. God, we must have been at that stinky booth for like two hours. I'd still been mortal. It had been one of my whining nights. You know, give it to me. I don't want to get old and die. Blah, blah, blah. Now I was falling asleep on my feet while my little imp was bargaining with this old lady who was probably three feet tall. First of all, Indian has never been my best language. (Hell, my English isn't that great!) Second, there were more exciting things to do. Like make me into a vampire. I was seriously considering pinching my nose shut because of the stink when Armand nodded and smiled. That's his happy, satisfied gesture. Works like a charm on the person it's aimed at. And, right on cue, the smelly woman smiled back and took the coins he held out.

He turned back to me, took my arm, and strolled away. When we got to the hotel room, which the roaches enjoyed immensely, Armand set the bottle on the bedside table and looked at it, his head cocked to the side.

"Do you like it, Daniel?" I had shrugged, and muttered something. "It's precious, because it is so beautiful and delicate." He knelt down in front of the chair I was sitting in. "Like you. That is why you are so precious to me." I was so pissed I bit a piece off the cigarette in my mouth.

"Oh, no, don't give me that." We argued for another hour. I should have been a lawyer. At least I would have gotten to be some kind of blood-sucker.

Finally I got so mad I stood up and over him real quick. He hadn't been expecting that, and I knocked him off balance. Sharp little gasp, and I turned around to see him kind of crumpled on the floor. "Shit" was the only word running, no flying, through my head. He looked up with those too-big eyes and they were all red. I had no freaking clue what was wrong. It was the first time I saw him cry.

I kind of tip- toed over to him. He tried to turn away, but (oh bright Daniel!) I grabbed his arm. He whipped his head around; yippee, pissed off vamp. He bared those nasty, sharp, pointed teeth, and my stomach left for a safer climate. I was so scared I almost wet myself, but all I could say was,

"You're bleeding." His whole face, like, softened and relaxed. Those pouty lips closed over his fangs and he came into my arms. He was so cold, but I wanted him to be.

"No, caro, that is how we cry." I held him and stroked his hair.

"Cool." He looked up then, smiling through his tears.

Looking at the dusty bottle, I could still see his dark tears and he was gone. I wanted to die. Alas, poor Yorick, I knew him, Horatio...

I thought about the other suicided people I knew. Well, not knew personally. Most were famous people who OD'ed or blew their heads off. Not happening. I figured I'd better be the good minion and do what my Boss had done. Hey, I needed a tan anyhow.

Well, I cleaned up his room, throwing out all the junk that I had really wasted. I wanted everything to be right, like, good. I don't know. I wanted to do something right in my life. So, I cleaned house. My mom would be proud.

I thought about my mom, my family. I hadn't gone home for Christmas in quite some time. I thought about going home, final good-byes. Go for the super melodramatic, pathetic exit. But I didn't want to see them like this. I thought about my, um, extended family? Like, the vamp gang. Yippee, back to New Orleans. What the hell. Nothing better to do.

I decided to wait 'til the next night. Who me, scared? Nah. So I climbed into my cozy coffin and snuggled up to sleep. Comfy. I felt so bad, I wondered what had ever happened to my security blankie and my limp stuffed rabbit. I kind of smiled. It's name had been Squid and it had no face...

I dreamed again, about guess who. I saw that we were playing a board game, something really dumb like Monopoly. He was really concentrating, like it was really serious. He was losing. Talk about bad losers; there was no way I could let Armand lose. So I played the game into his hands. My high school coach would have shot me. Don't throw the game, Molloy. But I did, for him. And every time I let him take advantage of me, I got really tired. Shaky kneed.

He won, no kidding. And I was laying next to the game thinking that beige would really be a nice color for the ceiling. Then he was with me, whispering into my ear,

"Come back to me, Daniel." And I was macho man again. But he was like this little kid, he was crying and he needed me. There were other people with him suddenly, trying to get his attention. He went away with them, but he didn't look happy. They weren't like me; they couldn't hold him. He didn't fit against their bodies the way he did against mine. Jerks.

I woke up aching to touch him. Funky dream, man. Aww, how sweet. I got up, getting ready to go. I looked in a mirror and saw the red on my face. Damnit. I'm such a wus.

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