Background: This is a response to the spec challenge, what if a vampire was made by a different vampire? This started out as a long story, akin to Fresco, but I got lazy and decided it would work better as a short flashback. But I still wanted a happy ending!

Disclaimers: I don't own these vampires, Anne Rice does.

Spoilers: Well, since this is all screwed up, it's not spoiling any of the vamp chron, is it? Well, maybe IwV. And TVL. And QotD. And...oh hell, all the damn Chron, okay?

Warning: Mild implied slash and violence, and some age tampering with Daniel and David. Hey, it's an alternate universe, they could be born at slightly different times!

Lestat sat perched on the roof of the small house he shared with his beloved fledgling. He wondered where his mother was, as he did every night. The last time he'd seen her was so very long ago, when he'd made her a vampire. She'd sent a letter a few years ago, but he hadn't heard from her since. He knew she was all right, running through the jungles of South America. Still, he wished she'd get in touch more often.

Marius had been so angry when he found out about her, he smiled sadly. His maker didn't like the fact that Lestat had made another vampire and turned her loose, but when he'd found out who she was to him, it was difficult to scold. Lestat had thought it would be hard to live with him after that, but then they'd found Armand soon after, and once they rescued him from the Theatre, Lestat was free to roam.

He'd felt a little sad after the battle, watching Marius cradling Armand and kissing him. The fight had been a hard one, not only destroying the nest of monsters but also getting Armand out safely. In fact, that was the only reason Marius had made Lestat in the first place. He'd walked in on Magnus, who had just finished draining Lestat, and immediately recognized the madness in the old vampire. Instead of finding help from Magnus in searching for his lost fledgling, Marius had helped destroy Magnus, but then he'd still needed assistance finding his fledgling...and Lestat had been right there, the chosen of Magnus.

So Marius remade Lestat.

At first Marius made it clear that Lestat was just a guide, saved only because he was needed. As time wore on, though, Marius grew to like this youngster, who was so brash and so frightened at the same time. Marius taught Lestat everything he needed to know, and showed him exactly what a pleasant relationship could be, without the fear or pain. They'd cultivated a close friendship, and Marius had told him all about Those That Must Be Kept, although he'd never shown them to him.

Still, they'd only made it to being friends, because Armand almost immediately came into the picture. Lestat'd felt slightly abandoned when Marius turned all of his attention to the small vampire who'd flown into his waiting arms, but he knew it was for the best. He'd returned to Nikki, and they'd been happy for awhile.

Nikki's playing only became more impassioned once he was given the Dark Gift, though, and soon he was so involved with his violin that he started to forget Lestat. A few years later he left him for a career on the stage, where he still played to this day. They still wrote each other and lived on civil terms, but now they were only friends.

"Lestat, it's getting early!"

"Coming!"

He turned fast and slipped in through the window, shutting it behind him. Books cluttered the entire room, stacked on desks and chairs and put in tall piles on the floor, threatening to trip him up. Of course there were shelves, but they were all full. He just shook his head with a smile and nimbly stepped around them, practically dancing down the stairs.

"Louis!"

His green-eyed beauty turned with a broad smile and held his arms out, catching Lestat up and whirling him around. His pretty fledgling was a wondrous creature; living with him was as miraculous as making him had been. Lestat had been as gentle as possible in giving him the Gift, and Louis had shown him what he'd missed when Marius had made him. Things had been so rushed in the castle, with the piles of blonde bodies around them and the knowledge that he was only alive to help his maker. Louis, though, was a creation of pure love, since Lestat knew then what it was like to be without love. He wanted his fledgling to have the happiest life possible, especially since his mortal life was so painful, running from his family and all.

"You must learn to come in earlier," Louis scolded him softly. "One of these days I will have to drag you inside, partially singed."

"Never, I promise," Lestat laughed. He tried to sit down and found a book on his seat. He picked it up and plopped into the sofa. "Charles Dickens again? But chere, he is so boring! Shakespeare is much more fun."

"If it were up to you, we would have nothing but Shakespeare in this house!" Louis smiled, draping himself across Lestat's lap.

"Well, at least we would only have thirty-seven plays and a volume of sonnets," Lestat replied. "Not these waterfalls of books teetering on the edges of shelves and tables."

"You said we were going to move soon."

"Yes, and we will, once I find the right place. Somewhere in New Orleans, the Garden District, I think. Out of these street apartments."

Louis sighed and lay his head on Lestat's chest. He didn't say anything, but his look told Lestat exactly what his fledgling was thinking about. Any mention of moving usually brought memories back of their first move, and the violent argument that had ensued.

"You can't forget her, can you?" he whispered.

"No," Louis sighed. "I wish...I wish I had not run by her, I wish I had done something for her."

"It's my fault for making you upset," Lestat said quietly. "I had not meant to make you cry that night, but I never expected you to run from me."

"I never thought you would chase me. I thought you were going to hurt me, I don't know why. God knows you haven't ever so much as raised your hand to me before."

"No one thinks clearly when they are distressed."

Louis just relaxed deeper into his arms. "I heard someone crying, and I turned, and...she was such a little girl. I could see her mother there, already dead. She looked at me, Lestat. She looked right at me! I wanted to go inside and help her...but then I heard you calling my name, so I ran away. I just wish I knew what happened to her."

"I'm sure she was all right," Lestat insisted. "What did you want me to do, make her one of us?"

Louis shook his head. "No..." He sighed and closed his eyes. "She's dead by now, isn't she?"

Lestat nodded. "It's been over a hundred and fifty years, at least. No mortal can last that long."

"I wonder where she is now. If my brother is with her..."

Lestat shook his head. "No, don't think about things like that. You know it only makes you sad, and then I get sad that gives me a headache."

Louis smiled and kissed him, wiping away the tears building in his eyes. "I'm sorry, my love. I just want to know if she is happy, and if my brother is happy."

"You won't know until you see them."

Louis shook his head. "No, that can wait for a long time to come. I don't want to leave you. Oh, but that reminds me, Armand called. He wanted to ask if he can borrow our copy of Phantom of the Opera."

"Why? He's already read it."

"Yes, but Daniel hasn't. Armand wants him to know what the book is like, since his fledgling still thinks the movie was an original screenplay."

"Danny isn't very bright, is he?"

"He's not that silly."

"You're only saying that because you gave him an interview."

"I never expected Armand to take him in."

"Neither did Marius. How is he getting along with that stuffy British man, anyway?"

"You did not hear?"

"Hear what?"

"David is one of us now."
Lestat blinked hard. "You mean...eww, but David was so old!"

"He was only forty. That isn't such a bad age, not now."

"Maybe he could exchange with someone for a younger body," Lestat suggested.

"What odd ideas you have!" Louis laughed. "Personally, I was more surprised that Armand made Daniel so young."

"Fifteen isn't too young. He probably wanted someone he could see eye to eye."

"Lestat!"

"Well, it's true."

"You're going to get into serious trouble one of these nights, my love."

Lestat decided that now was probably not the best time to mention that he wanted to go back on stage as a rock star. Better wait 'till tomorrow. For now, though, the sky was beginning to turn a lighter shade, so he tightened his hold on Louis and picked him up, carrying him downstairs to their daytime sanctuary.

In the basement, Louis had designed a room that would withstand fire and flood and lock up tight so no one could get in. His most prized books were down here, but they were neatly packed on a shelf. The Oriental rug was three inches thick and spread to every corner of the room. There was one mahogany desk with a computer, but Lestat detested having to work in the bedroom. He insisted it was a room meant for relaxation alone.

The bed was a testament to that belief. A king's size, it was made slippery silk sheets with feather blankets and a velvet cover on top. The pillows were also stuffed with down and covered in silk, and the headboard was carved with flowers and vines. Despite Louis' modest nature, he loved this room.

Lestat turned on the small lamp, creating just enough light to see by. They both disrobed, putting their clothes away. Convincing his fledgling to change clothing night to night had taken some time, but finally Louis was no longer wearing shirts and pants to rags. Of course, having him nude in bed a marvelous plus.

Lestat slid into bed, pulling the covers back for Louis, who eagerly took his place beside his maker. Louis snuggled up to him, kissing him a few times, and didn't move as the blankets were pulled up to his throat. They couldn't see the sun, but they could feel exactly how close it was to rising.

"I love you," Louis said, putting his arms around him.

"And I love you." Lestat lay his head against Louis' shoulder. Long ago Louis had somehow gotten him to relinquish all power in bed, and it was one of the best things he'd ever done. The love and trust in this relationship was well worth the vulnerability. "Sweet dreams."

"Pleasant dreams," the fledgling replied, and turned off the light.

The End