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The Vampire's Apprentice
by Evilida
Author's note - I like Victorian ghost and vampire stories. This story is a modernized version of one.
House rang the doorbell half a dozen times and, when that had no effect, rapped on Wilson's door with his cane leaving a dent in the paintwork.
"Wilson, answer your door," he called out imperiously. "It's cold out here!"
"Would you keep your voice down? My neighbours are sleeping. So was I until thirty seconds ago."
Wilson opened the door. House stood on the doorstep.
"Don't just stand there letting the cold air in. Come in," Wilson said.
Wilson was wearing a t-shirt and pyjama bottoms. His hair was mussed and his eyes were half shut. He was annoyed at House for waking him up at two thirty in the morning, but not nearly as annoyed as he should have been. House hadn't shown up for work for a couple of days and hadn't answered Wilson's phone calls, and he'd been worried.
"What are you doing here? Have you been evicted from your apartment? Was it the guitar playing or the visits from call girls?" Wilson asked. "Never mind. You can tell me tomorrow. There's the couch and the blankets and pillows are in the closet."
Wilson gestured vaguely toward the closet and headed back to bed.
"Don't leave," House said. "I have to talk to you. It's urgent."
"Can't it wait till morning?"
"No," House said, "this can't wait. We have to talk before the sun rises."
House's voice carried an undercurrent of desperation. Wilson looked curiously at his old friend. House looked pale and his blue eyes seemed unnaturally bright. Wilson automatically put his hand to House's forehead, checking for a fever.
"How long were you waiting out in the cold?" Wilson asked. "You're freezing. I'll make you some coffee to warm you up."
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House and Wilson were sitting around Wilson's kitchen table.
"Did I ever tell you about the Professor of Esoteric Medicine?" House asked.
He held the cup of coffee in his hands, appreciating its warmth, but he didn't drink it.
"No," Wilson said. He had realized that he was not going to be able to get back to bed anytime soon and had poured a cup of coffee for himself.
"I went to his lectures while I was at Columbia. I don't think he was actually affiliated with the University at all, even though he called himself a visiting professor from the University of Bucharest. His lectures were held in the evening and in all sorts of odd places, wherever he could find a space. Sometimes one of his lectures would be in the back of a bar, another time in an empty theatre or a community hall.
I went at first because I'd heard that he was a good speaker and I needed some cheap entertainment to get my mind off the mess I was making of my life. This was about the time I had been caught cheating and my academic fate was in limbo.
The Professor of Esoteric Medicine was a tiny little man. He wasn't an albino but his skin was so pale that I wondered whether he might have some kind of light-sensitive disorder. It looked to me as if he had never seen the light of day. He had particularly intense eyes. When he focused them on me, I felt very uncomfortable but I couldn't turn away from him. He seemed to be very old, at least eighty, but he showed no signs of infirmity. He spoke for two and a half hours, with a great deal of energy and enthusiasm. His voice carried to the far reaches of the room effortlessly.
He talked about strange and inexplicable cases that he had come across in his studies and the medical practices of other times and other civilizations. Everything was described in such vivid detail, as if he'd been an actual witness to events. That was impossible though, because most of the things he talked about had taken place centuries ago.
I'd come with a group of friends, and they decided to slip out and go to a bar at about ten o'clock. I stayed till the end though, and when he told the remaining members of the audience the date and time of his next lecture, I made a note of it. I must have attended a half dozen of his lectures, and then I was expelled from Columbia and I left New York. I doubt if I'd given a passing thought to him in all the years since, until I saw a handout advertising one of his lectures stapled to a telephone pole a few days ago. Then I found another left under the windshield wiper of my car."
"Did you go to the lecture?" Wilson asked, taking a sip of coffee.
"Of course I did. And it was the same Professor of Esoteric Medicine I'd seen years before."
"If he was eighty when you saw him last time," Wilson said, "he'd be about a hundred now."
"He looked exactly the same. Unchanged. Not a day older. And still the fascinating, mesmerizing speaker I remembered.
There were only about a dozen or so people in the audience, and when his eyes rested on me, I was sure he recognized me. After the lecture was over, he stopped me as I was heading out the hall.
`I see life hasn't treated you particularly kindly, Dr. House,' he said. `You are in pain.'
I wasn't all that surprised that he knew my name. After all, I am the foremost diagnostician in the United States."
"Why be modest?" Wilson commented. "Why not say the world?"
House ignored the interruption.
"He told me that he knew of a treatment that could eliminate my pain permanently. He told me that it was dangerous but that he was proof of what his treatment could accomplish. He'd been crippled by arthritis, every movement causing him excruciating pain, but then a respected colleague had taken pity on him, and showed him his secret. Since then, his existence was pain-free. He told me that he no longer feared pain or sorrow or death."
Wilson politely put his hand over his mouth as he yawned.
"Sounds like some kind of faith healer or panacea peddler," he said. "I hate con men who prey on sick people or people in pain. I can't tell you how many of my patients have fallen for those kinds of scams."
"I was doubtful, too," House said, "but he was a strangely persuasive man. The Professor convinced me to try his treatment, and it has been one hundred percent successful. I no longer feel any pain. I don't need my cane any more. I can walk perfectly well without it."
House stood up and walked around the room without his cane. He did not, as far as Wilson could tell, favour his good leg at all. He smiled at Wilson in a way that made his friend feel very uneasy. Too many teeth.
"What was it?" Wilson asked. "Hypnosis? Unfortunately the results are likely to be only temporary."
"No," House said. "Nothing so mundane, so trivial. I've been transformed. Like the Professor, I'm now a vampire."
Wilson laughed, almost choking on the coffee he had been drinking.
"This is your lamest practical joke ever," he said. "What did you really do? Inject your leg with some really serious pain-killers?"
"No," said House, "I'm serious. I'm a vampire now."
"A vampire," Wilson said. "One of the undead. An immortal bloodsucker. Right!"
"Yes. Though the Professor doesn't like the term `immortal'. We don't age as you do, but we can be killed. He says using the term "immortality" makes us over-confident and careless. He prefers to say that our deaths can be indefinitely postponed."
"You must think I'm the most gullible person on the planet," Wilson said. "I understand the difference between the real world and horror fiction. I'm going to bed."
He stood up. House put his hand on Wilson's arm, and Wilson was once again surprised by how cold his friend's touch was. He looked down at House, and the older man's glittering blue eyes fixed on Wilson. Wilson could not move.
"I could demonstrate my new nature," he said, "but it might be distressing for you. I don't want to hurt you or scare you, but you have to listen to me. Promise me that you'll hear me out."
Wilson began to suspect that there was something wrong with House. His friend seemed entirely serious. Wilson wondered whether House was experiencing some drug-induced fantasy or a mental breakdown.
"Don't get upset," Wilson said. "I'm listening to you. Let me warm up your coffee. Want some cookies to go with that? I have a couple of iced almond cookies from the Italian bakery I was saving for my breakfast."
House shook his head.
"I've left my appetite for food behind. The idea of eating nauseates me. I'm undergoing a physical change that I don't fully understand yet. The Professor tries to explain it to me, but it's been such a long time since he was human.
I won't mind leaving pain behind, and the fear of death, but there are parts of my old life that I want to keep. I don't want an endless life without you, Wilson. You are what I would miss most."
"House, you're ill, but you don't have to worry. I won't leave you just because you're sick right now. I'll always be your friend and when you get better..."
"I'm not crazy, Wilson, and you don't have to humour me. I see that I'm going to have to give you a demonstration, just to make you see reason. Don't blame me if this upsets you! If you would only trust me I wouldn't have to do this."
House got up from the table. He was next to Wilson in an instant, his cool firm hands holding the younger man still.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he said gently, "but you have to know I'm telling the truth."
He leaned over and Wilson felt something sharp press against his neck. He cried out and House released him. Wilson put his hand up to his neck and felt something wet. He looked at his finger and saw blood.
"What did you do?" he asked. Wilson felt faint and had to sit down. "Was it a needle or a knife?"
"You know what it was. You felt my teeth against your neck, piercing the soft flesh. You taste delicious, Wilson. You're so sweet. I knew you would be good, but I couldn't have imagined..."
Unable to help himself, House licked the droplet of blood from the tiny puncture wound on Wilson's neck. Wilson shuddered as he felt House's sharp wet tongue against his skin. Then the world went dark.
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When Wilson awoke, he was lying on the couch with his head resting on House's lap. He tried to sit up, but he felt dizzy.
"What happened?" he asked.
"You fainted," House said. "You'll be all right. Just rest for a minute."
"You cut me!"
"A couple of drops of blood and you make such a fuss!" House said. "I've had worse paper cuts."
House helped Wilson sit upright. The oncologist looked almost as pale as the vampire. Again House couldn't resist; he leaned over to taste the bead of blood that welled on Wilson's neck. So good.
"I'd better get you a band-aid for that," House said. "I don't want to see that mark on your neck, tempting me. I might go too far. I'm not quite in control yet."
House went to Wilson's medicine cabinet and came back with a band-aid. Then he went to the kitchen and made Wilson a cup of heavily sugared tea.
"Drink that," he said. "You've had a shock. If you'd only listened to me, I wouldn't have had to do that!"
Wilson wondered for a second if the tea might be drugged, decided he didn't care, and took a long sip. House sat next to Wilson on the couch and put his arm around him. Wilson thought that House was probably trying to comfort him and help him adjust to a new situation, but having him so close was actually having the opposite effect. It emphasized how different this being was from the House he knew - how cold and remote and strange. Wilson edged away from him, shut his eyes to block him out, and took another sip of the sweet tea.
"Wilson, this is all real. You're not dreaming."
Wilson didn't respond, and House sighed.
"It's not like I have a lot of time here. The sun comes up in a few hours and the light of the sun really does burn us. That part of vampire lore isn't a myth. The Professor's leaving Princeton tomorrow night, and I'm going with him. There's a period of apprenticeship...it might last for a few months, or years or even decades. Time isn't all that important to us. It matters to you though. It might be a long time before I return, and you get closer to death every day. You might not be alive next time I come back, or you might be old and wrinkled. I want you to be with me always, just as you are now."
"Why me? Why not Cuddy?"
"Cuddy has attachments. She has a new baby she wants to raise. She has brothers and sisters and parents who love her. She's not going to want to leave all that.
You're all alone in the world, Wilson, except for me. You hardly ever see your parents or your brother, and every relationship you've ever had has come to a disastrous end. Except for our friendship. It's the only thing in your life right now. It's all you have.
Besides, I love you more than Cuddy. When I was like you - human - hormones clouded this issue. I felt more of a sexual attraction for her than for you because I was predominantly heterosexual."
"You're not human anymore," Wilson said quietly.
"You knew that instinctively when you opened the door, but you invited me in anyway."
House leaned over Wilson and kissed him on the neck, his sharp teeth barely brushing against the delicate skin. He touched Wilson's cheek and turned his head gently.
"Open your eyes, Wilson. See me as I really am. I'm perfect now. You can be perfect too."
Wilson opened his eyes and stared into the cold, brilliant blue eyes of the monster who had once been his best friend.
"What if I don't want to be a vampire? What if I say no?"
"The Professor has warned me how careful we have to be. People don't really believe that vampires exist and we have to keep it that way. If you refuse, I'll have to kill you, but I'll be very gentle. It won't hurt at all and I'll hold you so you won't die alone."
"You've killed already then."
"Yes," said House. "I killed a man passed out in an alley. It was a cold night, so he would probably have died of hypothermia anyway. He didn't taste as sweet as you."
"I don't want to kill."
"You think it will bother you, but it won't. Everything's different after. "
"You're not House anymore. House wouldn't kill."
It took an enormous effort of will to look away from its beautiful blue eyes.
House's lips brushed against Wilson's, cold but soft and yielding. House's whiskers grated against his cheek. His fingertips caressed Wilson's cheek. Then the vampire put his arms around Wilson and pulled him close again. He was much stronger than Wilson.
"You're cold and you don't smell like him," Wilson said. "You smell like brittle old newspaper."
"Your House is gone, and he's not coming back. I'm all there is now, and I love you. Please, Wilson, I need you. Join me. Say yes for my sake."
Wilson looked at the creature. He thought he saw the glimmer of tears in its unnaturally brilliant eyes, but he knew he could be imagining it. He wanted so much to see a sign that the vampire still retained some of House's humanity. He reached out and touched its cheek. It was wet. Real tears.
"Yes," Wilson said.
House smiled, exposing his fangs for the first time, and Wilson felt the effects of a surge of adrenaline. His body told him that this was a predator and he must run away. He looked deep into House's eyes until his panic subsided. Then House leaned over. The pain of the puncture was sharp and intense but it lasted only a second. He could feel House draining him but he was not afraid. He shut his eyes.
"Don't fall asleep, Wilson!" House warned. "If you fall asleep, you'll die."
He pinched Wilson viciously until he opened his eyes. Then House went back to drinking his blood.
"Wilson, look at me!' he ordered. "Focus on me. The next bit is going to be hard for you, but if you trust me, if you love me, it won't be so scary. It's a metamorphosis, like a caterpillar becoming a butterfly, and you'll need quiet and dark and peace while your body is changing. Do you understand? Nod if you understand."
Wilson nodded.
"I'm going to wrap you up in a piece of cloth, to hold you tight so you won't move."
"It's a shroud," Wilson whispered. It was hard to speak.
"Yes, it's a shroud. And the quiet, dark, peaceful place is a coffin. The details are frightening. Just remember that I went through this process too. All the time you're in the coffin, I'll be right there, watching over you."
"How long?"
"Until sunset tomorrow. Fewer than twenty four hours and then we'll be together forever. You can hold on for that long, can't you? Just remember, you can't fall asleep."
"I'm so tired."
House had begun winding the shroud around Wilson. He covered every inch of his body, even his head.
"You're going to feel like you're suffocating, but you're not. There's a chemical in our bite that slows down your heart and lungs."
House picked up Wilson as if he weighed no more than a rag doll. He went to the door and looked up and down the street, checking that there were no witnesses, then carried him out to the car where the Professor was waiting. He carefully manoeuvred Wilson into the back seat and then took the front passenger seat.
"This is a mistake," the Professor said, as he pulled out. "One doctor goes missing, everybody's upset for a while and then they forget. Two from the same hospital is a major news story."
"I want Wilson and I'm not leaving without him."
"The apprentice doesn't get to set the terms," the Professor said.
"This apprentice already has."
"You think I don't understand but I do. When I was alive, I had a wife," the Professor said. "Actually I had quite a few wives, but one of them was my favourite. The youngest. She was so pretty. I can't remember her name, but I'm sure I loved her deeply. I wanted to make her one of us, but we had children who depended on her. I decided to wait until they were grown. When I came back for her, she was old and ugly and married to somebody else, so I killed her instead.
The point of the story is that love is a human thing. It doesn't last. It has nothing to do vampires."
"Did you hear that Wilson?" House called out to the inert form on the back seat. "The Professor thinks I don't love you. He thinks vampires are incapable. We're going to have to prove him wrong. You and I are going to show him what vampire love really is."
House smiled, exposing his fangs, an aggressive gesture among vampires.
The Professor smiled back. He could already tell that his new apprentice wasn't going to be easy to teach, but he relished a challenge. He might have to kill House eventually, but at least he wouldn't be boring.
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Legal Disclaimer: The authors published here make no claims on the ownership of Dr. Gregory House and the other fictional residents of Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Like the television show House (and quite possibly Dr. Wilson's pocket protector), they are the property of NBC/Universal, David Shore and undoubtedly other individuals of whom I am only peripherally aware. The fan fiction authors published here receive no monetary benefit from their work and intend no copyright infringement nor slight to the actual owners. We love the characters and we love the show, otherwise we wouldn't be here.
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