Usual disclaimers: Ain't me characters, just borrowing them for a bit o' fun...

"I want one! I want one! I want one!" shrieked Oliver. The six year old, red-haired, freckle-face boy jumped up and down, which didn't do much for his mother's headache. "Tony has a bird and he lives here!"

"Birds and rodents are different, dear," Beatrice said, smiling as sweetly as possible under the circumstances.

"Rodents? Like rats and stuff?"

Uh oh, thought Beatrice. Sighing, she reminded herself that lying to children wasn't good. "Yes, but..."

"Cool! I want a rat," he started chanting. "I want a rat! I want a rat! I want the Easter Bunny to bring me a rat!"

"Sorry," Tracy said, filling her glass with soda. Despite the thick wall between the apartments, Oliver's voice could be heard clearly. "The kid can be a brat."

"So can Screed at times," Vachon said, rummaging through the straw basket sitting on the bar. "Plastic fangs?"

Tracy felt herself blushing. "Left over from Halloween," she explained sheepishly. "I know Easter baskets are corny, I just thought it'd be fun to put some together for you guys. Only I didn't think chocolate bunnies and marshmallow chicks would be appreciated."

"Not really," he shrugged, smiling. "And I wouldn't call the baskets corny. Thanks. I'm sure Screed will appreciate his too. I'll drop it by his place on my way home." Reaching out, he ran his finger gently down her cheek..

Quickly turning to the 'fridge under the excuse of putting more ice in her drink, she commented. "Ready to dye some eggs? It... It might take a while."

"Sure," Vachon said. Tracy turned to see him grinning mischievously; he'd obviously known the touch would nervously excite her. He blinked a few times. "Who knows, maybe I'll stay here all night. We can watch for the Easter Bunny. I've always wondered if he's for real..."

After hunting several particulary fat, juicy rats behind the refreshment stand of a park, he'd decided to simply look around. After all, how often did he get to see how the modern middle class mortal played? Screed quickly decided they seemed the friendly sort; all busy with barbequing, ball tossing, and pushing their kiddies in swings. Staying in the underbrush in a wilderness area, he watched their antics, wistfully knowing if he tried to join in, they'd run or, even worse, call the cops.

Hours later, the park closed and the parents with their children left. "Ah, well, Screed ol' lad," he muttered to himself. "Ain't never been you cup o' lifestyle anyways. All tha' fam-o-lee togeth'ness jammy jam." Snorting, he stood to take flight.

Before he'd even had a chance to launch, a familiar scent caught his attention. At least he thought he knew the smell; something was different, slight off even. And the heartbeat, it was too strong, pumping blood through a circulatory system too large, to be a... bunny.

Turning, Screed watched a rabbit hop out of the bushes not far from where he'd been crouched just moments before. "Most strange like bunny wunny I ever see'd," he told it. "Right tall as ol' Screed, maybe a bit o're me head at that. Walkin' 'bout on two leggies, totin' a basket o' eggs - funny sort o' colored eggs at tha'... Say, yar name ain't Harvey, is it?"

The rabbit ignored him, moving away with speed that'd put most vampires to shame.

"'Ey!" Screed yelled. "Ain't no reason ta be rude abou' it! Dinna even giv' me a chance to try a bit o' the vin o' the bunny... 'Ey, wait up you flop eared beastie thing! Get 'cha cottontailed arse back 'ere!"

Not one to be outwitted by an intended meal, Screed took out after the oversized cottontail by air. He quickly discovered the chase wasn't going to be as easy as he thought - the hopping hare had managed a vanishing act. He could hear no heartbeat, sense no pulse and couldn't smell odor of Easter rabbit anywhere. Puzzled, he landed in the darkened backyard of a house. A little girl stuck her heard out of a small, teddy bear decorated tent. The pig tailed blonde wisp of a thing took one look at Screed and said, "Eeewwww, you need a bath, mister!"

He glared at her, letting his eyes shift in color. "Be werry werry quiet, ya lil' wench," Screed snapped. "I'm 'untin' wabbit."

Squealing loudly, she dove back into her tent, zipping it from the inside.

Just as he was about to take off to continue searching by air, Screed spied a blue colored object not far from the girl's hiding place. Another one was spotted several yards away beneath a bush. "Tha's it!" Screed squealed. "Just follow the bunny leavin's, ay? Can't hide the likes of them ears from Uncle Screed, ya can't!"

His plan proved easy with a clear trail of half- hidden eggs throughout the neighborhood. Following it through front yards and back, bushes and trees, swing sets and sand boxes, Screed finally picked up the bunny's scent several blocks and dozens of decorative eggs later. It was a modest home, needing a coat of paint and a new front door. Peering through opened curtains, Screed could see straight into the living room. Three little baskets containing stuffed yellow ducklings and tons of candy sat on the coffee table. "Now 'ow does that leapin' Bugsie Bunny wanna be gettin' all them treats out o' his bask..."

The awareness of something behind him caused Screed to spin around. Stifling a scream, he found himself eyes to nose with the rabbit. "Wot's up, doc?" he asked.

Bounding off, the bunny took off across the street. This time, Screed flew a few houses down. "Gonna hafta ambush the cad, I am," he muttered, squeezing into a vacant dog house. A low growl escaped his throat when he saw his prey approach the house next door. He crawled out of the shelter, crouching as still as a statue in the darkness.

Magically, the bunny appeared just on the other side of the fence. Pouncing, Screed rushed the rabbit, soaring through the sky, aiming for the beastie's beckoning neck. "Kill the wabbit, kill the wabbit!" he sung happily, fangs extended in anticipation of his special Easter treat.

Just as his finger tips touched the soft, white fur of the bunny's neck, it dematerialized. "Whoa, there matie!" Screed yelled, losing control of his descent in his surprised. The last thing he remembered before a sharp, stabbing pain tore through his chest was the realization that directly below him was a white, picket fence.

Unbeknownst to Beatrice, the rat quickly gnawed its way out of the basket. After raiding the candy next to its former cage, the creature jumped off the table looking for more delicious niblets. Deciding the selection seemed rather boring, it decided to leave that particular apartment and conquer the world - or at least the building. Scurrying into the central air vent, it made its way into the next apartment.

"Stop what?" he said innocently, his expression not changing. "Just forget it," Tracy teased, jabbing him roughly in the waist with her elbow as she went to answer the door.

"'Ey, is the V-man 'ere?" Screed said weakly, collapsing into Tracy's arms. His blood coated hands grasped at a white, wooden stake protruding from his stomach. "It 'urts," he whispered, eyes pleadingly meeting her own. "Damn bunny..."

"Right here, Screed," Vachon said. "For the love of..."

"A giant bunny, Vachy," Screed muttered. "'E got me good. Probably won't even bring me no treats now, ay?"

"He's delirious... Trace, I've got to get this stake out..." The Spaniard hastily lifted the carouche into his arms.

Swallowing back her nausea, Tracy pointed toward her room, "Will the bed be okay?"

"That'll work." "'Ere comes Peter Cottontail an' all that jammy jam," Screed attempted to sing. "'Ippity, 'oppity, Easta's on its way..."

Tracy rushed ahead of Vachon, grabbing several old sheets from her linen closet on the way. After stripping away the comforter, she spread them out just in time for Vachon to gently lower Screed to the bed.

"No where near the heart, that's good," he said, gripping the stake. Bracing his feet against the bed, Vachon tugged, stumbling backwards a few feet when it pulled loose.

"Oh, God," Tracy said, swallowing back bile. Turning away to compose herself, when she looked back, Screed was noisily drinking from Vachon's wrist.

"What the hell happened, Screed?" Vachon asked. "This looks like part of a white picket fence!"

Letting go of the Spaniard's arm, Screed lowered his head to the pillow. "I tol' ya, matie," he said weakly. "It was a giant-type rabbit, the Easta' Bunnykins. Nearly 'ad meself quite a snack, I did. Mean sorta cutesy critter, though. Did a vanishing whammishing act on me... ain't no 'Appy Meal... it... weren't." Screed shut his eyes as his body seemed to relax.

"Is he ...is he... dead?" Tracy asked frantically, her heart jumping.

"Nah, just asleep," Vachon said, as if this were an every day occurrence. "Probably would feel better if I cleaned him though."

"I'll get you a washcloth, better make that a stack of them, and some water," Tracy offered. "There's some old t-shirts in a plastic bag on the closet shelf too. They should fit him."

"Thanks," he smiled sweetly.

"He'll be okay there, won't he?" she asked hesitantly. "I mean, he IS house broken, isn't he?"

"Uh, yeah," Vachon shrugged. "Well, usually, anyway."

"Thanks for the reassurance," Tracy replied, rushing from the room. She wondered if she could afford a new mattress.

A half hour later, Screed was tucked in beneath an old blanket, still asleep, his face clean for the first time since Tracy had known him. "Do you think I should put his basket by the bed?" she asked Vachon.

"Sure, he'll love it," Vachon shrugged. "Listen, I'd better run to his place before dawn and bring back some of his own... bottles. Will you be okay with him? He'll probably sleep for several more hours."

"Go ahead," Tracy shrugged, sitting the basket on the night stand.

Screed shifted slightly, muttering the word "bunny".

Waking suddenly, he sat straight up. Immediately he realized he wasn't in his bed. For one thing, the mattress was much too soft and smelled way too sweet, kind of like flowers - like Vachon's mortal morsel. "Oh, yeah," he thought. "Got meself impaled on o' bit o' decorative fencing."

Rubbing his chest, he could feel no evidence of the stake. Sighing with relief, he peered down to find a faded picture of Bugs Bunny staring back. "Eep," he yelped, jumping to his feet on the mattress. "Take it easy, laddie," he reminded himself. "Just a tee type o' shirt. 'Sides being, the 'orrible 'are were on the white 'n fuzzy side."

The first order of business would be feeding to replace the blood he lost. Instinctively he began searching through sense and smell for any sign of rats. He didn't have to look far; on the night stand there was a basket. In the basket was a bunch of interesting looking trinkets, including plastic vampire teeth, and badly colored Easter eggs. Nibbling on the eggs was a nice, very fat, very white rat with a pretty pale blue ribbon around its neck.

"Now weren't tha' kind-like o' that bunny," Screed said to himself. "Knows just wot ol' Screed likes best. Who woulda thought?"

With lightening speed, he grabbed the rat, staring it in the eyes as he sniffed with pleasure. "Right juicy lookin' ratsie, you are, ay? True nectar. Them other vampy types don't know what they're missin'... But next year come this time, Ol' Screed's gonna be sippin' that wascally wabbit!"

Twisting the rat onto its back to expose the best vein, he bit. Through the wall, he could hear a little boy screaming at his mother, "Where's my rat?! It's YOUR fault he got away. I HATE you!"

The shouting was followed by the sound of a spanking, then the boy was crying. "Tsk," Screed muttered, after finishing off his meal. "The lad just don't got the 'oliday spirit..."