This is in honor (or something) of KC Smith's ninth wedding anniversary. I doubt its quite what she had in mind-- but hey! Its *my* birthday! Anyone who doesn't like this story can hit ye olde DELETE key. : ) Those who do can e-mail mineself at: kyer@prodigynet

The original of this idea was unfortunately consumed by my computer which decided to play Zombie at a critical moment. I did my best to recreate it, but I've had some personal trouble lately. <sigh> Ask Nat for some wintergreen if it stinks to bad.

"Nicholas?"

Nick tensed at the sound of a voice he had not heard for exactly nine years. Slowly, he retracted his fingers from their positions over the piano keys and pivoted on his seat in order to face the intruder.

"LaCroix."

His sire, a two-thousand year old vampire, smiled at him from his position near a window and tilted his head a bit in acknowledgement as if he were a teacher and Nick a student who had finally managed to master a simple task.

"Oh, very good, Nicholas. You *do* remember my name."

"As I remember the circumstances upon upon which I last saw you---- and the words we shared." Gathering his feet under him, Nick prepared him self for a fight. It was unlikely given his sire's mood last time that that the ancient Roman had changed his mind. If necessary, Nicholas would defend his chosen to the death.

LaCroix chuckled at him-- a low, sinister sound that did nothing to calm his son's nerves. "Oh come, Nicholas--- you can't mean to tackle me because I neglected to send an announcement of my visit? You *did* send for me after all. I have simply responded. And I will even admit that it was a clever ruse: making it look like that wayward envelope contained some misbegotten cure you were waiting for."

"I wasn't sure you'd actually come. It *has* been nine years." And I'm still unsure if this was wise, Nick thought to himself silently. It had been more Nat's idea to mail the thing. He had just arranged to make the bait as attractive as possible. Such a horrible risk if this went wrong!

"My, my-" LaCroix went on, "you mean your latest aquirement *is* still among the living undead then? The Enforcers must be slipping."

Nick growled, baring his fangs slightly before willing the red glow to fade from his eyes. Actually, the Enforcers *had* stopped by on the 10th night of his fledgling's 'birth' and had been quite taken with the charming new member of the Community. Several had even 'volunteered' to take over the formal training. Natalie had put her foot down at that--- it would be Nick or nobody. Nick could not help but smile a little proudly at the way his fiery Natalie had stood up for him. But he was hardly going to volunteer such information to his 'father'.

He forced himself to answer in a light tone, "The Enforcers haven't made so much as a peep about any impropriety on my part, thank you very much. If only *you* would do the same." He gestured with his chin towards the skylight. Of course his sire, as usual, brushed aside his not-too-subtle-hint to leave and proceeded instead to make himself at home on his son's couch.

"Oh, dear.... you *are* testy tonight. Have I worn out my welcome already?" He tsked, tsked at Nick's scowling face. "Really, Nicholas.... your manners always were on the barbaric side, but now they verge on the atrocious. Is this any way to show hospitality to one of your elders? Consider your behavior, Nicholas. You *do* have an impressionable fledgling now."

Nick stalked over to his refridgerator, removed a bottle of 'special vintage' that had been a gift from Janette, poured a generous amount into a goblet he was not particularly fond of, then walked over to his sire. Manner stiff, he proferred the glass. LaCroix, completely relaxed and unruffled took the drink and sipped at it appreciatevely, thankful that it was not cow or......or that other horrendous stuff his son now felt compelled to keep on hand.

"My fledgling is my business, LaCroix. I did the bringing over--- as distasteful as you found that fact!--- and I accept full responsibility for--- " He took a deep breath. They had already covered this ground nine years ago. Raking over it again only aggravated his blood pressure. Such as it was. "Why did decide to come. What is it you want, LaCroix?"

"Want? Why my dear, childe! What is it that any grandparent wants? I came to visit with the newest family member. I want to see if that 8x10 glossy you so *mislabeled* is truly an accurate picture. I concede that when I confronted you last that I had no idea your childe would turn out so beautiful. Such magnificent eyes." LaCroix's own ice-blue eyes looked full of innocense as they stared into his son's darker blue.

Nicholas wasn't buying. Not yet. He had to be *sure*!

"Nine years ago you wanted to tear out your *grandchilde's* throat! Or did you think I have forgotten the way you crashed in here with murder in your eyes when you sensed the newest of my family? Poor Natalie barely--" He stopped as LaCroix swiftly reached into his jacket pocket and pulled something out. "What's that?"

LaCroix held out the item: a small rectanglar box. "Why don't you see for yourself?" He grinned as Nick hesitated, "It won't *bite*"

Annoyed, yet curious, Nick gingerly accepted the small package. It looked innocuous enough, certaintly; wrapped in an exquisitevely embossed paper with a silken bow. But then, with LaCroix, you could never tell. He could well be holding a vampire-deadly device in his hands. "And this is for?"

LaCroix trained his eyes to the ceiling while giving an exaggerated sigh of long suffering. "Surely, Nicholas, even the Brabantish of the 13th Century received gifts upon the arrival of a new family member?" He smiled at his son's confused face. "A gift, Nicholas. It is only a gift for my favorite proteg'e's... offspring. Call it a belated birthday gift, a name-day gift or an anniversary present. Whichever you like." He laid one finger on the black and silver package. "Are you going to open it? Or shall you let your 'childe' do the honors?

Stepping back, Nick clutched the package in his hand. "I think I'd better open it--- if you don't mind?"

LaCroix merely waved his hand; if he was offended by Nicholas's attitude, he chose to let it go this time. That was fine with Nick. A fight would be sure to awaken Natalie who was currently sleeping in his bedroom. He certaintly didn't want to wake her if he could help it. Taking his time, he gingerly started to remove the expensive ribbon and paper. He fingers were poised over the lid, ready to open the box itself, when he heard movement and saw Natalie at the top of the stairs, yawning sleepily with Sydney held cuddled against her chest.

"Nick.... ? Whaa--- " her eyes widened at the sight of the darkly dressed figure next to her roommate Oh, god! What are *you* doing here?!" She considered retreating back into the bedroom, but thought better of it. It wasn't like you could really *run* from the old General. She supposed that they had been lucky indeed that he had decided to leave them alone for as long as it was: Nick had barely prevented him from killing them all the first time, so great was his rage. The proud, pompous ass! None of the other vampire's had been upset over Nick's choice--- oh, there had been some raised eyebrows at first---- but, everyone had soon been won over fairly quickly. Everyone but LaCroix, that is.

LaCroix stood and gave a very slight bow. "Ah--- my.. um.. grandchild. Come to me."

Natalie looked at Nick for guidance.

He shrugged. His sire *did* amazingly enough seem geniune in his desire to meet his fledgling. And the present seemed to say that no *open* hostility was intended. For now anyway.

"I guess its alright, Nat," he lifted the gift out of the box so that she could see it, "he gave us this."

"Oh. Well... I guess its ok, then." Natalie flew down to land lightly before the old General. "If he promises to behave himself."

LaCroix's eyes gleamed with what Nick hoped was pride as he feasted his eyes on his child. Nick was burstingly proud of his proteg'e and he really did in his heart want LaCroix to approve as well.

"Nicholas, if I may?"

Without a word, Nick handed back the box so that LaCroix could fasten the ruby-clad choker around the slender neck himself his finger lingering on the sculptured chin for maybe a moment longer than necessary. There was a warning growl. For a second ice-blue eyes faced off with bared pearly-white fangs, and Nick was afraid there was going to be a fight after all.

But LaCroix suprised him by laughing out loud in pure delight.

"Never.... In all my two-thousand years, Nicholas, did I ever dream that I would one day you would have a child who so completely accepted its own nature! I was wrong to object to your choice before. Well, done, Nicholas, my son. Well done."

Nick swallowed the lump in his throat that rose unbidden at hearing the long sought for words of praise. He slid one arm around Natalie's waist and squeezed lightly in a quiet gesture of happiness. Natalie grinned back.

"Well, don't just stand there, Nicholas," LaCroix reproved him as he leaned down to gaze admiringly at his son's fledgling. "Go and fetch a bottle for my beautiful grandchilde. The widdle wookum's is hungwy! Isn't granda's little snookie?"

Sydney just looked at his father's sire disdainfully while Nick, laughing, went to fetch a bottle of tuna blood.