"You really don't have to do that," Vachon said. He sat on the floor a few feet away, packing items into a small, very weathered trunk. "I cleaned in here after Screed died."

"But you didn't disinfect," Tracy pointed out. "If you're considering moving in here, I want to at least be able to breathe fresh smelling air."

"I don't think it's possible," he replied, throwing a hole-filled sweater to the ground.

"I dunno, the odor is already better..."

"That's not what I mean," Vachon said with frustration, moving next to Tracy. He ran his fingers through her hair. "I don't think I'm going to be able to live here. No matter how much you scrub, it won't get rid of Screed's smell, his presence. I tried staying here yesterday, but couldn't sleep. I kept hearing his voice, expecting him to come rushing in any minute, mad because I'd buried him prematurely."

Pulling the mask and gloves off, Tracy settled into his arms. He seemed to gaze into nothingness, blinking a few times. She knew he was remembering some adventure with his friend of nearly 450 years. In the silence, Tracy's own thoughts drifted back to her last memories of the carouche. When they'd discovered Screed sick and starving, the Spaniard had fed him from his own wrist. She'd brought Vachon some bottles from his abandoned church so he'd not be weakened by his friend's needs. By the time she'd left, Screed had been sleeping. She'd wiped his brow as Vachon drained an entire bottle, then she'd whispered good-bye in Screed's ear, not realizing she'd never see him again. "Isn't there someone, another va... I mean one of your kind you can talk to?" she asked softly. "Surely others lost friends."

"Countless," Vachon admitted. "But no one wants to talk about a carouche. Screed was high functioning for his sort. Most of them are feral, living like wild animals... not that he was exactly civilized." The Spaniard smiled slightly, sadly. "At least Screed had someone with him at the end. I can't help thinking of the others, alone in the bushes and sewers, no one to hold or comfort them. For all we know, there's not one left alive anywhere."

There were at least a dozen questions Tracy wanted to ask. She wondered who'd discovered the cure and how. Were there vampire doctors, scientists and researchers? How far had the plague reached? How many had died? Who'd known to go to the dying Vachon and administer the vaccine? She kept her curiosity to herself as Vachon would evade any inquiries. "I miss him too," she said instead.

"Really?" Vachon said accusingly, pulling away.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"You thought Screed was disgusting, admit it," Vachon said, those dark eyes seeming to drill through her.

"No!" she protested. "Of course he took some getting used to..."

"Trace, he sucked rats," Vachon snapped, his voice full of rage and denial. "Screed usually smelled like a sewer or whatever else he'd rolled in to disguise his smell for hunting. He had the social graces of a lust-crazed warthog!" Vachon stood, turning away.

"Will it make you feel any better if I told you some things about Screed _did_ repulse me?" Tracy asked. "But Screed would not have been Screed if he, well, wasn't the way he was!" She stepped in front of him, staring into his anger-etched face. "Trying to convince yourself that his death was no loss isn't going to make you feel any better."

"No, it isn't, is it?" Vachon mumbled, his eyes brimmed with tears. Her own began filling in response. "You miss him too."

"Yeah," Tracy managed to choke out. "I guess it's just now hitting me. I mean, I was so worried about losing you, and so relieved you lived... Not that I wasn't thinking about Screed..."

To Tracy's embarrassment, a sudden sob wracked her body. Vachon's cool embrace enveloped her as she began trembling. "I'm sorry..."

"Don't be," Vachon assured her. "Let it out. I... I should be the one apologizing. I haven't been able to cry. I start, then think how Screed would've harassed me about it and can't help laughing. Cry in my place, Trace. It woulda warmed the cockles o' 'is 'eart, it woulda." His imitation was eerily accurate.

"I'll never be able to look at a rat without thinking of him," Tracy said before totally breaking down. She allowed Vachon to gently lower her to the floor. He rocked her gently as she cried, rubbing her back. Once through her own tear-blurred eyes, she was sure she saw red tinted moisture on his face. After countless minutes, her sobs slowed and Vachon brushed her hair away from her cheeks.

"Feel better?" he asked.

"Not really," she said. "This may not be a good time to ask but it's sort of eating at me, you know... is... is it true vampires are damned?"

"That's what they say," Vachon answered softly. "Though who really knows? Seems like every time you turn around, some group is calling another cursed. If mortals say that about their own kind, why should vampires be different? Maybe it's because we're... allergic to religious symbols. That seems to be a weak excuse to damn an entire species, huh?"

"I just can't picture God doing that to someone like Screed," Tracy commented. "I mean, he ate rats, not people - he didn't ever drink... human blood, did he?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"No," Tracy whispered, warned away by the tone of Vachon's question. They sat in silence for a moment. "Would you show me where you buried him? I'd like to pay my respects, maybe scatter some flowers or something."

Vachon hesitated, then nodded. "I haven't been out there myself since... I guess someone should make sure the rats haven't tried to get revenge on his body; dug 'im up or some such sort o' malarkey, ay?"

Held close by Vachon's strong arms, Tracy left the cellar with him. For a moment she easily imagined that all was right with the world; that Vachon was the man of her dreams and Screed would come crashing down from the sky, interrupting the intimate moment. When they reached her car, she sighed before pulling away from Vachon's cold body. "I really am going to miss him."

"Me too, Trace. Me too," Vachon said. He gazed upwards toward the sky. "Good night, my rat sucking sailor friend. You'll be remembered."