It was a cool day, so Tara decided to take Mac with her on her shopping trip for supplies, calling him in from the backyard and carefully leading him out the front door to the car. She didn't want the dog's restless activity in the kitchen to disturb the vampire's rest. Also, she was beginning to feel guilty over the limited amount of time she had spent with her pet over the past day and a half. She knew he was probably beginning to feel left out and neglected from being kept in the kitchen all the time; usually he was allowed the run of the house.

But until the vampire was stronger, more secure in his surroundings, that was the way it would have to be.

Hopefully, however, a good shopping trip with her might soothe the dog's injured feelings.

Her first stop was the local pharmacy, where she left Mac locked in the car with the windows cracked, and hurried inside. She didn't want to leave the vampire alone any longer than was absolutely necessary. She loaded a cart with several large rolls of bandages and bottles of antiseptic, as well as other supplies such as aloe vera and various first aid creams, not really sure at all what she would need.

Tara considered going to a department store for clothes for the vampire; it made her uncomfortable to think that he was still naked and utterly vulnerable. And yet, she knew that it could be difficult to find clothes that would fit him, in his painfully emaciated state, and she was anxious about the amount of time such a venture might take. Temporarily, she could find something of her own for him to wear, until he felt safe enough to be left alone for longer periods of time.

The next and final stop was the magic shop where she had found her new charge, and she drew a deep breath, letting it out shakily, as she put the car in gear and started across town. Sensing her discomfort, Mac laid his head on her shoulder from the backseat as she drove, and she idly reached a hand back to pet him, running her fingers through the silky fur under his chin, taking comfort in his familiar combination of softness and strength.

She left Mac in the car again as she steeled herself and entered the store, ignoring the way the dog growled low in his throat as he stared out the window in the direction of the magic shop. She felt about the way he sounded, every nerve on edge, defensive, ready to fight off some unseen, unknown enemy. The last thing she wanted to do was to go in there.

But she had to.

The vampire needed human blood to heal, and he needed it so badly that this time, this one last time, Tara was willing to ignore the fact that it was human.

Her heart pounded in her chest with apprehension at the thought of facing the strange shopkeeper again, but she steeled herself for what would likely be a rather awkward encounter. As she approached the checkout counter, the surly man stepped out from the stock room. He noticed her immediately, and his expression darkened.

"You."

Tara raised an eyebrow in surprise at his barely veiled hostility. She had not exactly anticipated a warm welcome, but outright rudeness was not what she had expected from someone supposedly specializing in customer service. Of course, she was no happier to see him than he was to see her. She sighed in resignation as she stepped up to the counter.

"Yeah. Me."

"I told you you weren't gonna be satisfied with that last purchase," the shopkeeper reminded her before she could say anything else. "No refunds."

"I'm n-not here for a refund," Tara reassured him. "I'm here for m-more blood."

Her request was met with stunned eyes, widening then narrowing again in suspicion. "Why?" he demanded. "Why do you need more blood?" He paused, his voice rising slightly in agitation as he asked incredulously, "Is that vampire still alive?"

"That's none of your business," Tara replied curtly, swallowing back her nervousness as she took out her wallet and tossed a couple of bills onto the counter. "I just want to buy the blood."

"Look, lady," the shopkeeper insisted, and Tara was surprised to hear a slight tremor in his voice, "you've gotta do whatever it is you're gonna do and get rid of him. The vampire is not to survive, that was a condition of the sale..."

Tara felt a surge of anger at the man's words, and her eyes narrowed as she cut him off. "I bought him. What I do with him is m-my business. Blood. Now. I'll take all you've got."

To her surprise, the shopkeeper took a backward step, not quite meeting her eyes, and relented, much more easily than she would have expected. "Okay, okay," he sighed, running a nervous hand through his greasy hair. "Just a minute. I'll...I'll get it."

A few moments later he returned with several large bags of dark red fluid, and Tara felt her stomach churn at the sight of so much blood in one place, and the knowledge that it was most likely human.

He needs it to be, she reminded herself with grim resignation.

Tara took the blood and made her way out of the shop as quickly as possible, relieved to find herself in the bright sunlight once more. She put the blood in the trunk and headed for home, where she let Mac out in the yard. The car ride had him more than a little hyper, and she knew that his noisy jumping and barking would certainly terrify the vampire, even in the brief time it took to take him through the living room into the kitchen.

She unlocked the door and opened it slowly, calling out as she did. "It's me. I'm home." An ironic smile crossed her lips at the oddly domestic sound of the words.

She set the bags down in the hall and headed for the living room door. Although the vampire had barely made a sound since he had been in her home, the utter silence was still very unsettling to her.

Relief flooded her mind when she saw the vampire sitting bolt upright against the wall, his head turned toward the door, but facing downward. She noticed that once again the blankets lay in a discarded heap at his feet, as he waited in tense anticipation for her to make a move. His nostrils flared as she opened the door, and he seemed to be scenting the air for a moment, before he visibly relaxed, just a fraction.

Her eyes widened in fascinated curiosity.

He can smell me? From way over here? A slight frown creased her brow at the thought. I *really* hope that's a special vampire talent.

Her curiosity about his enhanced sense of smell was overwhelmed, however, by her relief and joy at his slight relaxation. He still appeared very nervous and uncertain, but he was not scrabbling at the walls and desperately trying to make himself invisible anymore...so that was progress, at any rate.

"Hey," she greeted him cheerfully, though keeping her voice soft so as not to alarm him. It was hard to suppress her excitement over the change in his reaction to her, his recognition and maybe...just maybe...the beginnings of trust.

She was going to need his trust for what she needed to do next.

************************************

He was sitting up in an instant at the soft, scraping sound of a key turning in the door. He backed up against the wall, panicked at the thought that it was them, coming for him in her absence, coming to take him back.

But then, her voice...and overwhelming relief.

She had come back.

The quiet, swinging sound of the door opening preceded the wafting scent of vanilla and honey that he had come to associate with the girl who seemed so very kind, had fed him, helped him. There was a faint trace of the musky odor he had smelled before, of dog, and a shudder of relief went through him at the reassurance that it was her. With her entrance, a bit of color seemed to return to his dark, miserable existence, giving him something on which to focus, a gentle voice to drown out the memories that filled his mind.

"I got bandages and stuff." Tara continued to speak to him as she moved around the living room, and he listened attentively, though more to the cadence of her voice than to her actual words, taking comfort in the sound. "And blood. We'll get you taken care of, Sweetie. Okay, I'm going into the hall now to get the bags, and then I'm coming right back in here, okay?"

Her calm, consistent speech kept him aware of her position in the room, and helped him to manage his ever-present fear as she walked out into the hall, and then returned to the living room again. She kept talking, but the words weren't registering with him as he simply did his best to focus on where she was, what she was doing.

"I'll be right back, okay?"

Her footsteps carried her into the kitchen, and he waited in tense silence for her return, listening to the strange sound of crinkling plastic and clinking dishes. A few minutes later, Tara returned...and the unmistakable smell of blood filled his nostrils. The vampire drew in his breath sharply, stunned and confused. He frowned, a convulsive swallow tearing his sore throat as he tried to make sense of the scent.

More blood? But it's only been a few hours...surely not...not for me...

He tensed instinctively as he felt her crouch in front of him on the floor, and then her soft hand firmly grasping his, and guiding it gently to rest around the smooth surface of the warm mug as she placed it on the ground. Slowly, he let out the breath he'd been holding, his heart sinking with painful recognition.

This was a game he knew well.

Of course...here we go. A test. I'll be good, I won't touch it ‘less she says I can. Maybe...maybe if I don't...she'll let me have it tomorrow... A harsh, bitter laugh rose in his throat, but the very thought of releasing it was painful...and that was not even considering her possible reaction if she thought he was mocking her. Knew it couldn't last...had to be a catch...

Slowly, deliberately, he removed his hand from the mug, sitting back against the wall and simply waiting for further direction.

There was confusion in her voice as she persisted softly, "Hey, don't you want it? I-it's for you."

His jaw clenched in desperate frustration, and he turned his head away, keeping it humbly bowed so that it would not appear to be a gesture of defiance.

Yes, he had played this game before.

He'd played it until he wanted to scream, his body wracked with savage convulsions caused by his extensive starvation, only intensified by the tormenting scent of the nourishment they would not allow him to have. His stomach had clenched, lurching in its desperation to get to the blood they had deliberately left within his reach.

But if he went for it, touched it...he knew the punishment would be severe, likely more than he could bear. He had swiftly learned that hunger was better than the brutal consequences of disobedience.

And eventually...hunger was all there was.

I won't touch it, he silently vowed, his body trembling with need for the sweet, hot substance inches away from his shaking hand. I won't...I promise...I'll be good, please...

********************************

Tara was terribly confused.

She knew he had to want the blood; he hadn't had anywhere near enough to satisfy the agony of starvation she knew he was experiencing...and yet he wouldn't touch the mug in front of him. She couldn't help but feel that she must have done something wrong, somehow given him the wrong impression...though what impression that might be was something she couldn't begin to fathom.

Uncertainly, she pressed him, "Y-you can drink it...um, if you want. I mean...you don't have to, but, I...I just thought you'd rather h-hold it yourself than have me d-do it for you."

The vampire froze, his trembling ceasing for a moment, as he slowly, hesitantly turned his head back toward her, tilted in a silent question. Somehow, he was clearly as confused as she was.

Anxious, afraid of losing the progress they had already made, Tara reached for his hand and gently pressed it against the mug again. It trembled under her touch, but he did not pull away, his painfully thin fingers flexing against the stone as he visibly struggled to understand.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "It's okay. You can drink it. It's for you." She shrugged slightly, a tentative smile on her lips as she joked weakly, "I'm not really crazy about the flavor, myself, so...h-have as much as you want."

The vampire's trembling only increased at her words, his back to the wall, shaking his head slightly, at an utter loss; but his hand was grasping the mug desperately, and his longing to pick it up, to accept the nourishment it held, was a palpable feeling between them. Carefully, Tara put her hands around the mug, over his, gently helping him to lift it to his mouth.

He hesitated, his lips trembling, and for a moment she thought he would turn his head away again. She couldn't understand why he was on the verge of rejecting the blood, why he seemed almost afraid to drink it. She had given him another mug not two hours earlier, and he had gratefully accepted it; now, she would have thought it was poison for the dread with which he seemed to regard it.

************************************

The vampire was stunned as Tara tilted the mug carefully against his lips, sending a thin stream of blood into his mouth. Tentatively, he swallowed it down, his mind racing with confusion.

I *can* drink it now? It's not a test? Then...that means...

He had no idea what that meant.

Where was he? It couldn't be that place still, not with the rest, and the warmth, and the fresh, hot, human blood. Was it possible that he was actually safe...actually free? His traumatized spirit balked at that thought, and immediately rejected it. No, not free...but certainly captivity to Tara was far better than his enslavement to his previous captors. She hadn't hurt him; she had comforted him, and fed him, and spoken kindly to him.

A cold sense of fear settled in the pit of his stomach as he wondered what might be expected of him in exchange for such generosity; but after a few moments' consideration, he decided that whatever Tara might want with him, whatever she had brought him here for, it could not be worse than what he had already endured. Tara was going out of her way to help him; when he was confused, she did not lash out at him in anger and impatience as his previous captors had done. She was gentle and kind and explained things to him.

She was actually apologizing to him for his confusion about the blood!

A sense of awe overwhelmed him with that realization, and he felt his chest constricting, a knot forming low in his throat that would have accompanied tears, had his damaged body been capable of producing them at that point. Gratitude filled him, and he allowed her to pour a bit more of the blood down his raw, abraded throat, his hand grasping the mug more firmly under hers.

"That's it," she encouraged him gently. "That's good. You wanna hold it? You wanna try?"

He nodded slightly, hesitantly, and she carefully lowered her hands, allowing him to hold the mug himself. It was heavy in his thin, wasted hand, but it felt good to do something - anything - for himself, and he took his time, savoring the flavor of the blood in his mouth, the feeling of the smooth warmth in his hand. No one was waiting to snatch it away if he didn't finish quickly enough; no one was going to slap it from his hand and strike him to the floor for daring to cherish such a privilege.

It was a simple, basic pleasure, but one that had been denied him for far too long...and it was sheer bliss.