A/N: I wrote this in 1998, when I was fifteen, so don't judge me quite yet...

I

The night was dark, and the stars were shining brightly in the sky. Darren drove on a deserted road on his way from a performance to the airport in New Orleans. He longed for the comfortable chairs in the airplane. He really needed to rest. Suddenly the engine began to cough. Darren looked at the petrol gauge. It had reached zero.
"Fine! I'm out of gas! Where's the Good Samaritan when you need him?" He stepped out of the car.
"I can help you", a voice said.
Darren turned around. A man on a Harley Davidsson had stopped, and was watching him.
"But what do you say", Darren thought. But the guy seemed OK, just helpful.
"Thanx", he answered. "I've run out of gas, and I don't have any reserve tank."
"There's a gas station down this road, just a mile from here", the stranger said. "I can drive and get some for you, if you want me to."
"That would be very kind of you! I'm quite stuck here..." The stranger drove away, towards the gas station. While he was gone Darren tried to figure out what felt wrong with him. He suddenly felt very nervous.

After a while the man came back, and while Darren poured the liquid into the tank he said:
"Thanks a lot!"
"You're welcome."
"Who are you, anyway?"
"Can't you see who I am? I thought you might recognize me."
He took off his helmet and shook out his thick blond hair.
Darren stared at him and a dreadful suspicion entered his mind.
"My name is Lestat de Lioncourt. Do you know who I am now?"
"Y-yes..." Darren stuttered.
"But it's not free baby, you'll have to pay..." he mumbled to himself.
"You got the point", Lestat said with a grin.
But Lestat was fictive, a vampire from a book! He couldn't possibly exist! He was not supposed to pop up here! Darren felt very confused.
"But I do exist", Lestat said. "Who do you think actually wrote 'The Vampire Chronicles'?"
"Can you read my thoughts?!?"
"You know I can. Well, who do you think wrote them?"
"Anne Rice! Didn't she?"
A cold wind blew through the night and played with the blond vampire's hair.
"Of course not. She's just covering me. She gets the money and the fame, and I get my books published."
"But... Why? Why did you write them? Why did you reveal the history and secrets of the vampires?"
"I told you, in my books. Can't you imagine... If someone finally should discover that the vampires really exists! We would be hunted down, all over the world! It's just so... exiting! Do you know what I mean?"
"No... I don't understand at all!"
"Never mind. After all, you're just a mortal."
Suddenly he was behind Darrens back, holding him in an iron grip.
"But I can't leave you here now", he wispered slowly, close to Darrens ear. "You know too much. And because I can't leave you here..." His teeth briefly touched Darrens neck. "...I will have to take you with me."
Darren felt a sudden pain when a pair of sharp teeth burst through his skin and punctured his vein. A wave of delight took over his body, a passion stronger than he'd ever felt. His senses where overwhelmed by this intimate nearness. He and Lestat were one, hunting together in The Savage Garden, feeling the extacy in the music on stage and feeling their hearts beat together. He didn't want it to end, but it did. The second after Lestat let go of him, the loss of blood made him fall unsconcious.

Darren opened his eyes. He was in a room, on some sort of a bed.
"At least it's not a coffin", he thought and shuddered.
It was still dark outside, and a ceiling lamp lighted up the room. It was a nice and comfortable room with old-fashioned furniture, but it didn't seem to be used very much. He turned his attention to the door when Lestat entered the room.
"Consider yourself lucky", Lestat said with a provoking grin. "I'm going to give you the choice I never got."
Darren recognized the words. Lestat said that a couple of times in the Vampire Chronicles. He knew, he had read them many times and knew every word. He suddenly felt very cold and lonely.
"Is he really a vampire, or just a looney who has escaped from the madhouse?" he wondered.
An unavoidable fact was that he looked just like Lestat, according to the books. His hair was thick, long and blond, and it was not dyed. His eyes reflected every shade of blue, violet and grey. His skin was smoothe and very pale, it reflected the light in a very strange way. It looked like a mask. He definitely didn't seem to be two hundred years old. Darren used to think that, by that age you would be very wise, silent, and grave. Well, he didn't think so any more. Lestat seemed to be free, wild, unbound and reckless. The girls he knew would probably find him very attractive. But if you watched him for a while you got an undefined feeling that something was wrong with him.
"Probably it's that supernatural stuff", Darren thought.
Another unavoidable fact was the who small marks on the side of his neck. He still felt a bit dizzy.
"Wait a minute", he thought. "...the choice I never got... Oh no! That means; my choices are to become a vampire, or... not? What's going to happen to me now? What does he want from me?"
"A tricky question, my friend", Lestat answered. "I need you for my purposes. Let's just stay at that."
"In spite of me?"
"Don't be too sure", he said with a cruel smile.
"Anyway. It's almost dawn, I can't stay here any longer. Do whatever you please. Read a book, sing a song, sleep... Whatever." He started to walk towards the door. Then he turned to Darren.
"I'll be back...", he said over-theatrically, laughed and walked off.
Darren turned over some pages in a book, but felt too jumpy and confused to concentrate. He looked out through the window. He could discern a quite hilly scene, but no lights from houses or cars, in the faint grey light at the horizon.
He sat down on the bed and tried to think. Lestat had played a cat-and-mouse game with him. He didn't have a chance. He wondered if there was a way to escape while Lestat were sleeping, or whatever he did during the day. He tried the door. It was locked, just as he thought. The window was also locked. He returned to the bed.
"What would happen to me if I stayed?" he thought. "Would Lestat let me go? Probably not. Would he kill me? Maybe. Would he make me a vampire? Maybe. Would he lock me in here for the rest of my life? Well, he might, but it doesn't sound like Lestat. God, I wish I never did that performance! I wish that I never went to USA for this tour at all!"
In spite of all the gloomy thoughts he fell asleep.

When Darren woke up it was late afternoon. He looked at his watch. It showed 17.46. He waited.
At the nightfall he expected Lestat to come into the room any minute, and he was really uptight. But as the minutes went by, and quarters, and hours, he began to feel some hope. Maybe Lestat wouldn't come back? Maybe he was free to go? He went to the bookcase once again and read the titles of the books.
"Disappointed?", Lestat asked.
"I didn't hear when you came in!", Darren said, suprised and terrified.
"Of course not", Lestat answered. "You're a mortal."
"Where have you been for so long?"
"Here and there" he said nonchalantly. "Hunting."
Darren watched him. His skin had a shade of pink, he almost looked human. He avoided to think of it.
The night went by like a nightmare. Though Lestat was nice, even friendly to him he couldn't stop thinking of what would happen to him. If Lestat noticed that, he didn't show it. The last hours he got used to the fact that Lestat was a vampire, but he was still scared stiff.

When the morning came Lestat disappeared again. When he had gone Darren didn't manage to keep awake very long.
He woke up to the sound of voices. It was Lestat and a younger man, and they spoke with very low vampire-voices not meant for human ears. He pretended to sleep and listened to what they said.
"Let him go Lestat. You can't keep him here. He's innocent."
"I didn't expect that from you Armand."
"Armand? Another vampire from the Vampire Chronicles?", Darren thought
"But he knows too much", Lestat continued. "What if he tells somebody?"
"I thought that was what you wanted? Besides, nobody would believe him."
"Do you think he can live with the knowledge? Some mortals can't, you know."
"Probably. You can't give him The Dark Gift, he's too sensitive and emotional. I don't think he's able to kill people."
"You may be right. Should I just let him go?"
"Why not?" Armand replied.
After a quick glance at Darren they started to speak in their mother toungue, french, and Darren didn't understand much of what they said. After a while he pretended to wake up. Lestat looked amused. And Armand had disappeared.
"Want a ride in my Ferrari?", Lestat asked with a smile.
"Sure", Darren answered, surprised.
"Where are we going?"
"To the airport in New Orleans. You wanted to get there, didn't you?"
"Yes, I did... But how did you know?"
"I know... everything.", he answered with a sweeping gesture.
"Why are you letting me go?"
"I felt like it." He shrugged.
Darren smiled.

Safely on the airplane he allowed himself to relax. Now he knew it. Vampires did exist. Lestat lived somewhere around. He actually lived in the US! Darren felt very happy he didn't.