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The Vampire's Apprentice	By : Evilida44 Category: G through L > House Views: 1787 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own House or its fandom nor do I make any money from it.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
Rest and Relaxation

House woke up just before two in the afternoon feeling the inevitable day-after-the-kill depression.
At the instant of the kill, House felt as if he and his victim shared some profound connection. They had been brought together at that time and place so that House could live and his victim could die. He thought he could perceive, dimly and imperfectly, the outlines of a pattern. There was an underlying order which gave everyone and everything in the universe its own particular part to play and its own unique destiny. House was doing exactly what he was meant to do.
Of course, this "insight" wasn't some cosmic epiphany. What he felt was a biochemical trick his body played on him – synapses and neurotransmitters conspiring to produce a satisfying illusion. He knew that.
Still, after the illusion faded, the universe always seemed darker and crueller by comparison. At such times, House needed Wilson more than he was ready to admit – Wilson who loved him; Wilson who admired him; Wilson who always forgave him.
Wilson, however, was sleeping and of no use to House or anyone else. He slept on his side curled up like the letter 'c'. House was going to wake him up, and then hesitated. He knew Wilson hadn't been sleeping well for weeks and was exhausted. Generously, House decided to let him sleep.
He picked up the television remote from the bedside table and turned on the television, clicking through the channels until he landed on his favourite soap opera. He hadn't watched it for a while, since the Professor's television didn't pick up the right station, but he had no trouble picking up the plot. Matt, one of his favourite characters, figured heavily in this episode. He had kidnapped his sister's baby in order to get the child medical treatment for a rare genetic disorder. House snorted. As usual, the writers got all the medical details wrong.
At the end of the program, House looked over at Wilson again. He looked very thoroughly asleep, as if he might sleep for hours and hours, selfishly using up all of their precious vacation time. House was beginning to get annoyed.
House got out of bed and walked over to the room's mini-fridge. It was a deluxe model with built-in icemaker. House tried out the icemaker to see if it worked. It did.
He dropped the ice cube down Wilson's neck.
Wilson was vexed. He muttered words like 'childish" and "immature" under his breath, low enough so that House could pretend not to hear them. Then he went into the bathroom and turned on the shower, and House waited almost a full minute before going to join him.

While they waited for nightfall, House and Wilson spent the afternoon watching the pay-per-view channel and playing videogames. The hotel offered Guitar Gods, one of House's favourite games, and one at which Wilson didn't have a hope in hell of ever winning. House proposed forfeits to make the game more interesting. In the old days, when they were human, forfeits had involved alcohol – shots of whiskey or cans of beer – but Wilson had never been foolish enough to agree to forfeits when the game was Guitar Gods. Unfortunately, he was no longer in a position where he could refuse. Wilson was relieved that House's forfeits were more benign than he expected. Mostly sexual of course, but not what Wilson thought of as "vampire sex". No humiliation, and no more pain or blood than the odd nip. There was even some kissing and cuddling, which Wilson liked a lot more than House did. That should have made him suspicious of House's motives, but it didn't.
Wilson was trying to play "Bad Moon on the Rising." He was failing miserably, but he was smiling and laughing. He looked relaxed and unguarded for the first time in weeks. At last he reached the end of the song, and the panel of judges (Apollo, Orpheus and Euterpe) leaned their heads together and conferred. They gave him a three out of ten, which was the best score he'd received all afternoon. Of course, House had been awarded a ten.
"I win," said House.
"What a surprise."
"And the forfeit is that you have to tell me what you're afraid of."
"Are we playing truth or dare, now? I'm afraid of bats. I've never liked the idea of flying rodents with rabies and sharp little teeth, and I know that's ironic, considering I'm a vampire now."
"I'm not talking about that kind of fear," House said. "Yesterday, you said you needed to be someplace where you felt safe. Meaning that you usually feel unsafe. Meaning that you're afraid."
"I said that I needed a break. That's all. Not that I was afraid."
House didn't say anything. There was an awkward silence.
"I was thinking that if you'd let me have the money we got from the drug dealer, I could use it as a security deposit for an apartment in town," Wilson said. "I think it would be better for everyone. You and the Professor get along much better when I'm not around."
"How is that better for me? If I wanted you, I'd have to go all the way into town. And if it was during the day, you might as well be on the moon."
"You could stay over at my apartment whenever you wanted. I'd invite you in. Not the Professor, though. If I don't invite him, he can't come in, right?"
"No, that only works for humans. A vampire doesn't need an invitation to enter the home of another vampire."
"Oh," Wilson sounded disappointed.
"Wilson, I have to know what happened. Something went on between you and the Professor in the laundry room. You don't have to tell me every detail, but I do have to know whether the Professor hurt you. He promised me that he wouldn't hurt you. I have to know whether he broke his word. If I can't trust him to keep his promises, I have to know now."
Wilson looked down. Since the Professor had begun his campaign of harassment, Wilson had lived in fear. He hardly ate or slept, and when he did manage to fall asleep, he had nightmares. According to human laws, the Professor had threatened and sexually assaulted him. But the Professor was a vampire and human laws didn't apply. When the Professor left the laundry room, Wilson wasn't bleeding or even bruised. He hadn't been physically harmed.
"He didn't break his word," Wilson said.

As soon as the sun went down, House and Wilson went down to the hotel lobby and spoke to the desk clerk. In the pre-dawn hours of the morning, a man from hotel security had knocked on their door demanded that the vampires leave. The whole episode had been ludicrous and pathetic rather than frightening – one sad-looking human, close to retirement age, trying to intimidate two vampires with a piece of wood – and House had scared him away. However, House had threatened the hotel with litigation over the incident. Anxious to avoid negative publicity, they had promised House free tickets to one of the shows on the Strip.
House took the tickets to the late performance of the Cirque de Soleil with bad grace. He did not intend to be easily placated; he wanted to milk the situation for as much free loot as possible. While Wilson hovered in the background (he was supposed to be House's boyfriend, the expert in tort law), House explained again how extremely upset and traumatized they had been.
"He had a stake in his hand and he was obviously insane. We couldn't reason with him. He tried to push his way in. It was four in the morning, and he woke us up. He was a nightmare come to life."
When the desk clerk only nodded sympathetically, House raised his voice. He delivered his lines with dramatic panache, drawing the attention of everyone within a twenty-foot radius.
"It's outrageous that innocent guests have to live in fear of deranged hotel staff! He meant to stab me!"
"The hotel deeply regrets this incident. We'd like to try to make your memories of your stay here more positive. Perhaps dinner at our restaurant..."
"Food," said House, "I've just come this close to being murdered by a maniac, and I'm supposed to have an appetite! I need comfort, the warmth of human companionship."
The house clerk looked in Wilson's direction.
"Female companionship."
"Sir, if you're asking that the hotel pay for the services of a call girl..."
Wilson looked up, surprise and distress evident on his face, and the desk clerk discreetly turned away from him.
"I'm afraid we can't do that."
The desk clerk called for the night manager. While House, the desk clerk, and the night manager haggled over what the hotel would do to compensate House for his trauma, Wilson edged away. After a few moments, House turned away from the desk clerk and the night manager. He looked around for Wilson, who seemed to have disappeared. Finally House spotted him at the far side of the lobby, near the entrance of casino. House walked over to him.
"I've got massages booked for us for tomorrow afternoon, and I've got them to throw in a whole case of that lemony shower gel they have, since you like it so much. And look at this, two hundred dollars in chips. We've got plenty of time before the Cirque starts. What do you think: poker, blackjack, or roulette?"

Wilson wasn't a bad poker player. He just couldn't concentrate, and after a couple of bad hands, he lost his entire share of the chips. House was winning though. He'd recouped Wilson's losses and was up another ten or twenty. Wilson watched House take fifty dollars from a dentist from Idaho who thought that he could bluff a vampire. As the cards were being shuffled, Wilson tapped House on the shoulder to get his attention. House, intent on the game, didn't look up and responded impatiently.
"What do you want? I'm winning here."
"Do you see that?" Wilson said quietly, pointing to a camera in the ceiling.
"Of course I see it. It's part of casino security. They're everywhere."
"Yes, but can it see you?"
House swore. His fellow players turned to look at him.
"We've been here a while," Wilson whispered. "How long do you think it will take casino security to come and investigate a faulty camera?"
They looked around, and spotted a couple of large men in suits walking with unobtrusive speed towards them. House scooped up his chips and left his hand untouched on the table.
After House cashed in his chips, they headed for the hotel which hosted the Cirque du Soleil. House and Wilson watched tiny, elfin, improbably flexible creatures in elaborate costumes tumble and fly and cavort. There was supposed to be a plot of some kind, but it was lost in spectacle. A man dressed like a poodle and carrying an orange umbrella rode a bicycle on the high wire, while women in spangled leotards spun plates and did cartwheels. It was very pretty, very whimsical, and Wilson felt his eyes growing heavy. He fell asleep against House's shoulder, just as the poodle man did a headstand on the seat of the bicycle. Wilson started to drool on House's leather jacket, and House elbowed him.
They left at the intermission.
"It had its charms," Wilson said diplomatically.
"It was entirely too charming. I like the old Vegas better. Topless chorus girls and old men in bow ties telling filthy jokes."
Wilson yawned, carelessly exposing his fangs. House nudged him.
"Stay awake. The night's barely started."
First there was a drag show starring a Madonna impersonator; then the Ferris wheel at New York, New York; a comedy club; and finally bowling. It was less than an hour before dawn when House hailed a taxi to take them back to the hotel.
Wilson looked at House speculatively. The other vampire had seemed determined to fill every moment of their night together with fun and excitement. Perhaps, Wilson thought, because House knew that as soon as they returned, there would be no fun for a very long time. The Professor had no appreciation for human pastimes, amusements or culture; he never read a book, watched television, or listened to music, and his apprentice was supposed to follow his austere example. Wilson reflected that House probably dreaded their return to the Professor's house almost as much as he did.
"We don't have to go back to the Professor," Wilson said. "We could use the money to get away."
House said, "I don't like the Professor any more than you do. We just have to endure his company for a little while longer. After my apprenticeship is over, we'll never have to see him again."
They spoke quietly so the cabbie wouldn't overhear.
"Do you think your apprenticeship will ever be over?" Wilson asked. "I can't see that selfish old monster ever letting his favourite student go."
"It can't be much longer. Just think of the two of us together once I'm done."
"We're learning all about vampire life from one source," Wilson said, "and I keep thinking what if he's the vampire equivalent of the Unabomber? What if we're only getting an ugly, warped view of what being a vampire is all about, because our teacher is ugly and warped? There has to be more to being a vampire than all this hatred and revenge and lust for power. Because if that's all there is..."
House ignored him and continued his own train of thought.
"We could even take a trip up to Princeton and convince Cuddy to give up single motherhood and join us. You could persuade her. You're better at that vampire persuasion/hypnosis trick than I am."
Wilson wasn't going to be sidetracked by compliments.
The taxi pulled up in front of their hotel. House handed the cabbie his fare and walked rapidly towards the hotel entrance. Wilson hurried after him, calling out his name, but House didn't stop.
House strode away from Wilson. He knew Wilson was unhappy; he didn't need to hear the same complaints over and over again. He got on the elevator and pressed the "up" button; Wilson squeezed in just before the door shut. When Wilson opened his mouth to continue their argument, House bared his teeth and growled. Wilson backed against the far wall of the elevator, and the remainder of the trip took place in silence.
House knew that Wilson's argumentative and disrespectful behaviour was partially his fault. He'd been too lenient. He'd ignored Wilson's slips, and Wilson had taken advantage of him. House glanced over at Wilson, who stared at the floor, silent and glum.
House led the way to their room and Wilson followed. House took off his leather jacket and went to hang it up. That was when he noticed the rip on the sleeve. The rip was new, but he knew that he hadn't caught his jacket on anything that evening. That meant that Wilson must have done it when he'd borrowed House's jacket the previous evening. He'd taken House's jacket without permission (stolen it), and then he'd ripped it, and he hadn't even respected House enough to tell him about the damage he'd done. Even if the tear could be repaired, his jacket would always have a tiny flaw. It had been perfect, and now it wasn't, and that was entirely Wilson's fault.

Wilson lay on his stomach on the hotel room bed. His hair was mussed and still faintly damp, and his skin smelled of oranges, lemons and exotic fruit. He was naked. House, wearing one of the hotel's robes, straddled him. He ran his hands over Wilson's back, a smooth expense of skin unblemished save for a mole centred in the small of his back, just where the curve of his buttocks began. The mole hardly seemed a flaw at all; it seemed placed there by design. Gently, House traced the line of Wilson's back from his neck down to that perfectly placed mole, and he felt Wilson tremble at his touch.
Then House put his left hand on Wilson's shoulder, holding him down. With one of the wickedly sharp nails of his right hand, he cut a thin line down Wilson's back. The stripe, drawn in blood, was perfectly straight and centered. Still holding Wilson firmly in place, he followed the first stripe with another, also perfectly straight and parallel to the first. He paused to lap up a bead of blood that threatened to spoil his design. When he was finished there were five lines, equidistant from each other, each perfectly straight. House admired the effect of red blood against fair skin (it was a pity Wilson couldn't see it) and then leaned over to lick Wilson's wounds. The first cut had already begun to heal seamlessly.
House kissed Wilson on the nape of his neck, letting him know that his punishment was over and that his offense had been fully paid for in blood. He released him and Wilson sat up, his back to House. The movement reopened one of his cuts, and House reached out to catch the last droplet of blood on his finger before the wound healed. Wilson turned to face House, his expression distant and unreadable. House looked deep into his eyes. After a few seconds, Wilson looked away, but House had seen enough. Wilson wasn't hiding defiance or resentment; he had other secrets.
House fell asleep with Wilson in his arms and the taste of Wilson's blood, sweeter than honey, on his lips.
- 6
- 7
- 8
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The Vampire's Apprentice