Lance touches his fingers to his lips; feels the slick slide of pink gloss against the tips

Making The Band

A Fluff on Top nsync fang fic collaboration by cappuccino and black coffee

Pure fiction. Un-beta'd and perhaps not really thought through. But hey, vampires!

Lance touches his fingers to his lips, feels the slick slide of pink gloss against the tips. He rubs his eyes, and his knuckles come out dirty, stained with uneven circles of black smear, and now his eyelids hurt. He takes a moment to breathe in deeply, pressing his hand to his chest as it rises slowly then falls. His lips taste like bubble gum.

"Joey," he says. His voice is shaking slightly as he looks out of the en suite bathroom and around the dark room. "Joey, I’m ready."

A shape appears in the dark. Lance squints against the shadows.

"Who’s there?" He takes a step back as the shape comes closer and takes real form. "Chris? What are you doing here?"

"Oh," Chris steps into the lights flowing from the bathroom behind Lance. "Just thought I’d say hi. And bye. You know, to your mortal self." He jams his hands in his pockets and sharp pointy teeth gleam in the light as his lips curl over them in a not-quite smile.

Lance flinches slightly at the sight. "Chris…" he says, because he knows Chris, even though he obviously didn’t know shit about him for a long, long time, he knows Chris, and he knows what that smile means. He takes another step back. "Chris…"

"You’re all made up. Why?"

Lance touches his hand to his face again, blushes slightly. "Oh, um. I just thought maybe how you look when… when it happens… will affect how you turn out to look, uh, forever."

Chris gives an almost invisible shrug. Nothing in his face changes. "Ah."

He is looking at Lance hungrily, licking his lips. Lance shakes his head and tries to give clear fuck-off vibes. His hands are only shaking slightly. "Chris, we’ve been over this. I say who, I say when. And I want Joey to do it."

"Yeah, I know." Chris’s voice is low, slow. "I just thought I’d come and… talk to you. Help you prepare. Just so you know what’ll happen. Joey…" He pauses, "Joey doesn’t always bother with preparation. He gets… eager. He thinks you’re made of steel. But I." Chris takes a step forward and Lance feels the wall brush his back. "But I know you’re not, Lance. I know you’re much, much softer than people think. Warmer." He licks his lips again, pink tongue dragging over sharp teeth. "Sweeter."

Lance gets his hands on Chris’s chest and shoves. "Chris. Stop it. I know what you’re trying to do. I already told you; I am only doing this if it’s Joey."

Chris’s hasn’t really budged or even seemed to feel the push, but his eyes get a little hurt. "Why? Why does it have to be him?"

"I want this, but I want it done right. Joey is a good person, he’s healthy, strong, stabile. Until we know more about this, I am not taking my chances and inheriting any weird stuff."

Chris crosses his arms over his chest. "Weird stuff? Excuse me, but you’re forgetting who made Joey."

"I am hoping that whatever might have been passed on to him hasn’t had time to develop yet."

"And I am hoping it skips a generation." Chris sighs. "Okay, I get what you’re saying, Lance. But, since you’re already going to be… devoured tonight, I thought maybe I could…"

"Absolutely not."

"Come on, Lance, just a little. Just a sip. I’ve always wanted to know what you taste like."

"No."

"And it’d help to prepare you for Joey. So you’d know what it feels like and won’t embarrass yourself in front of him. You don’t want that, do you, Lance? Hmm?" Chris’s face is only inches from Lance, his mouth almost brushing against his throat. Lance feels his whole body stiffen, perspiration breaking out on his back, and he swears Chris leans even further and breathes deeply, whispering, "Oh, Lance, you smell so hot." Chris is cold, even this close Lance senses nothing from his body, his skin could as well have been a painting, a statue pressing against him.

It hurts when the teeth first break the skin. He can’t really feel them sink in, but he feels a strange tugging at his heart, and he knows Chris is sucking.

"Chris," he says through clenched teeth, angry and tense, ready to kick and scream. "Chris, no."

The tugging stops, Chris pulls away. "Sure. See. I stop. That wasn’t so bad, right?"

There are crimson stains on Chris’s bottom lip. Lance swallows hard, thinking he can see his soul in the tiny droplets. He reaches out a shaky finger and traces the blood. Chris bites at it, and Lance quickly pulls his hand back.

"Sorry," Chris says. "Instinct." His eyes are glowing warmly, he looks happy, if not quite satisfied. He’s also not moving away, Lance notices.

"Chris," he says, trying to make it a warning, but a lot of the strength has gone out of his voice. He wonders if it is the first stages of what he will feel with Joey. "Chris. I think you should go now."

Chris nods, but he still doesn’t move. "Yeah." He looks a little dreamy, not quite there. "Yeah, I just. Just one more. Just a little. You taste so good."

"No, Chris, no." Lance feels his head pushed back, his throat bared, and sharp sting, hurting worse now as the fangs sink into the old wounds. "Ow, Chris, please." He hears his own voice fading out. No strength to raise it. The ceiling above him is gray and blurry. He kicks uselessly at Chris’s shins. His fingers and toes tingle.

Chris lets him go. "Sorry," he says, actually moving away. "Sorry, I know, too much. Can’t…"

Lance stumbles along the wall, trying to find the door. If he gets out of there and finds Joey, there might still be time to… still might work… his plan, a good plan, what he wanted…

"Chris… fuck you, Chris." His ears are ringing, black spots dancing in front of his eyes. He think he can see the door. His head throbs with pain, pain, pain. He falls. On his hands and knees, he can see Chris standing a bit away from him, watching him quietly. "Get away from me."

"Yeah. Maybe I should." And Chris moves as if to open the door. Lance feels a glimmer of hope. Maybe Chris really will get Joey. Maybe it’ll all work out according to Lance’s plan. Maybe…

Lance looks up weakly. His head is spinning, there’s a chance he might throw up right there on the crimson carpet. "Chris, hurry."

"Yes." Chris nods, but he doesn’t open the door. He turns back, leans in front of Lance. "Yes. Just."

And Lance can do nothing as Chris pushes his head up by the hair and fits his mouth and teeth and body against Lance’s. It hurts, his heart beats hard against the strain, and Lance groans, mouth open, eyes rolled back in his head. He tingles all over, every place where he hasn’t already gone numb. He hears Chris as through a fog, moaning against him, chest heaving, and suddenly Lance is the colder one, Chris is where there’s heat and life and comfort and Lance wants, wants, wants. Needs. He tries to raise his arms to wrap them around Chris neck, to pull him closer. He can’t quite manage to.

"Chris," he whispers, as he floats away, "fuck… you."

"Chris, fuck you!" Lance is so mad, so mad. If he could, he would flush red with anger. Instead, his eyes go completely black against his pale face. "You fuck!"

Chris is sitting by the wall, fingers twitching slightly, eyes glassy.

"Sorry, Lance, but it’s done now. Get over it."

He doesn't look sorry. His lips are red and glossy. Lance’s lips are glossy too, but just from make-up smeared in the struggle. His hair is a mess and his eyes dirty and hollowed out. As it turns out make-up has nothing to do with how you turn out. He looks dead. He looks a million years old.

Chris was the first one. He tells the others he doesn’t know who made him. He knows it was a one-night-stand after a particularly good show and he assumes the guy was impressed and didn’t want him to go quietly into the night. Chris isn’t altogether sad about it. He isn’t holding any grudges any more. Immortality does wonders for your temper.

He kept it a secret for a long time. It wasn’t a big deal, really. He couldn’t go out in sunlight, so what? Justin couldn’t go out in any kind of light unless he was covered with hat and scarf, and it was really a perfect profession for a vampire to be in. He had a problem with rehearsals, because Wade was the kind of guy who would notice if one of his pet projects didn’t have a reflection. Chris managed by acting like a total jerk and not showing up, and they did no new choreography for the new show. He didn’t seem to have a problem with crosses, thankfully, but sometimes he did get a weird, tingly feeling if he stood too close to Justin’s left arm. He didn’t sleep in a coffin (although he wasn’t quite sure the bunk couldn’t be categorized as one), and he didn’t kill either. He needed blood, yes, blood was basically all he needed, but this was the 21^st Century, and it was usually not a problem going into a trendy goth club and getting high teenagers to offer up their veins. He drank just a little from each, not enough to cause any real damage, and five or six black-haired, androgynous pretty puppies every third day or so, would sustain him. And get him off. He could still have sex but it didn’t seem as interesting anymore, why bother with rubbing and sucking at skin-covered flesh when he could be sucking on their life force instead. Whenever he tried the old-fashioned way, he would be disappointed by how short the rush was, how centered on just one part of his body, and cum suddenly seemed poor and dry and faded. Not like the creamy, rich, hot taste of fresh blood.

He made Joey by accident. They were drunk (yes, he could still get drunk, especially if he hadn’t fed in a while) and he needed someone to confide in. Joey was generally an easy-going, non-judgmental kind of guy, and it took only one trip to the bathroom mirror for him to believe and accept it. But as soon as he had confided in someone, he wanted to have someone to share it with. He tried to say afterwards that it had been like a dream, that he hadn’t really known what he was doing, but that was not the case. Joey had fallen asleep in his bed, and Chris had woken him up, said, "I’m sorry, Joey," and then, "Welcome, Joey, hope you’ll enjoy your new life." Joey didn’t make for a very good vampire, but he did his best, and Chris was overall satisfied with Joey's progress. Joey also gave up on musicals and started liking punk rock. Chris was overjoyed.

Joey might be a bad vampire, but he was not nearly as bad as JC. Chris was sure JC was probably the worst vampire in the history of vampires. Again, Chris was the one responsible for JC’s descent into darkness. He had been hungry and JC had seemed so beautiful that night, as if it would be a crime not to preserve that beauty for all eternity. He had given JC a choice… kind of. "I’m a vampire," he’d said, when he’d had JC pushed into a dark corner after a show, licking at his throat, "and I want to make you one. I want you. Can I?" And Chris had forgotten how JC's brain went on hiatus as soon as there was kinky, hot sex on offer. JC had nodded eagerly and panted, "oh, yeah, Chris. Do me, do me." Chris had, and JC did turn out to be a pretty vampire, but he sucked at it. He would frequently stroll out onto the porch to contemplate the sunrise, not realising what he was doing until smoke started to rise from his skin. Then he would cry big, perfect pearly tears and sit looking miserable while Joey rubbed cream into his burns and Chris paced the floor angrily, asking JC how he could be so thoughtless. Immortality really did encourage philosophy, so JC went to late nights poetry readings and he fell in love with the people and their thoughts, only to have them run away from him in terror as soon as he flashed a smile at them.

Chris often regretted making JC, but there was no going back and the scale was suddenly tipped, three against two, and it didn’t take long before Lance came to them. Lance had figured out what was going on as soon as he had found JC in his wardrobe, longingly licking his clothes (JC had developed a strange allergy to wearing sparkle, for which he would never fully forgive Chris) and Lance quickly figured out that he might be at a disadvantage – not having immeasurable strength and an eternal life as such – and he was also convinced that for practical reasons they should all be of the same kind, as it would make scheduling that much easier.

They all agreed, but Chris put in his veto (as the eldest, and practically Joey and JC’s father – which they both refused to address him as, although JC did consent to using "daddy" when the occasion called for it) because Chris did not think Justin should be made yet. They’d had very similar discussions over the years regarding Justin and booze, drugs, tattoos and blowjobs. This time everyone agreed that Justin should not be touched until he was 21 and could make up his own mind. Lance, however, was twenty-two, and he went away and came back with a plan that involved Joey, a hotel not fussy about bloodstains, a change of clothing, and make-up.

Unfortunately, he forgot to account for Chris's fondness for blond boys in black eyeliner.

Which is why, when Joey comes into the hotel room, he is too late, and Lance is chasing Chris around the room, snarling and snapping his brand new fangs at him.

"Oops," Joey says. "You’re a bit angry for a dead person."

Justin doesn’t like being left out of anything, and his bandmates descending in to the darkside is no exception.

He doesn’t really have a lot of shame either, which Chris is starting to think should probably have been the first order on their agenda when they had those Justin-discussions.

During Justin's campaign to be initiated, they all wake up at one point or another with Justin naked in their beds, stretching, sighing, "I am so hot, just needed a cold body to press against. It’s like my heart is beating too fast or something, just pumping blood around my veins, everywhere…"

Once, he smears Lance’s favorite perfume into his neck and goes to sit on his lap. Unluckily for him, he forgets about Lance’s heightened sense of smell, and gets thrown half across the room as Lance sneezes sixteen times in a row and forbids Justin to ever sit on his lap again.

Justin starts wearing dark clothes and pale make-up, and he tells Joey he’s actually been a vampire for ages, longer than either of them, so they can just stop thinking they’re all that. Joey tells him his army boots don’t really work with his silver stockings.

Finally, he resorts to whining.

"Please. Why can’t I be one? It’s not fair. Please. Chris? Joey? Huh? I would be a good vampire. The best. You know I would. And Lance is only two years older. It’s not fair. Please."

Lance covers his ears. "Is it just me, or does the ability to hear a preying mantis walk up a drainpipe three streets away make that whine of his that much worse?"

"It’s probably you," Chris says.

Lance growls at him.

One morning, JC, Joey and Lance crawl back into the house after a night of drinking at the local goth club, and find Justin sitting on Chris’s bed, grinning widely. He is deathly pale and there is still blood on his collar. He couldn’t look happier.

"Damn, Chris." Lance covers his eyes and groans. "You always give in to him."

Chris is sitting on the floor by the bed, looking guilty. "I couldn’t help it. He wouldn’t stop. He lay on my fangs."

"Whatever."

Joey goes to help Chris clean up the stained sheets, and JC smiles at Justin. "You’re pretty as a vampire," he says.

Justin breaks out in a broad grin. "I am? Yes! I knew I would be."

He jumps up from the bed and skips over to the bathroom. Lance hisses when Justin’s arm brushes him. The big tattoo is red and bloody around the edges, curling upwards, as if it is slowly turning into a scab. Lance looks a little bit smug then. "That’s not going to be pretty," he muses.

From the bathroom, they can suddenly hear a blood-chilling scream.

They all jump, and when they turn around, Justin is standing in the doorway, eyes wide and horrified, gripping the doorframe for support. Chris is quickly next to him. "Baby. What is it? What’s wrong?"

"I.. I…" Justin can’t seem to find his breath, "I… can’t… see… myself."

They all look at each other, then at Justin again. Then they look away.

"Um, Justin," Chris says, finally, carefully, "that’s what happens. You lose your reflection. Didn’t you know that?"

Justin grabs him by the collar, shaking him violently. "No! You didn’t tell me that. I can’t look myself in the mirror? I will never be able to see what I look like again? Never again?"

Chris takes Justin’s hands in a strong grip, prying them away. He looks miserable too. "I’m sorry, Justin. I didn’t think."

"You didn’t... This is… How am I going to know what I look like? How am I going to do my hair, Chris, huh?"

"I.. I can do your hair for you?"

Justin’s scream cracks window panes two blocks away.

"Room service, please. For the Penthouse suite."

Lance stretches out next to Justin on the luxurious bed, phone in one hand. He notices that Justin’s post-blowjob glow seems to be the same as when he had living, breathing tissue under his skin. Also, blowjobs still makes Justin calm and pliant, even when he’s been told he will not be able to do the naked shake-it dance in front of the mirror any more.

"For two," he says lazily into the phone. Lance is still getting used to being a vampire himself. There are just so many new possibilities to explore. He runs his thumb along Justin’s wrist. "Oh, just some waiters, please. Preferably good-looking ones. Blond, if you have." He licks his lips.

"So the same as usual then, Mr Bass," the concierge says, pleasantly.

Next to him, Justin makes big eyes, then bursts out laughing.

It is strange how quickly times passes when you’re having fun or getting used to fangs. They don’t kill, but they all drink human blood, and there’s a trick to it, just as it was learning to swallow cum without making a mess when you first started reciprocating on groupies (Justin says, who was late in this matter). They’re all still settling in to their new lives, and JC and Justin frequently get the urge to write songs about it. The new album is entitled "Blood, blood, blood," and doesn’t sell very well.

"Ah, well," Lance says, when Johnny texts them the figures from his new hide-away, which he has made sure not to invite them to, "we’re really popular among the pseudo-goth kids who really listen to pop. Not so much the rest of the nation. Everyone especially seem to find JC’s stuff offensive."

They're lounging in Lance’s big dark hotel room -- complete with red carpets and Cajun prints on the walls.

"Do these pseudo-goths like to get their blood sucked on Mondays, Thursdays and alternate Saturdays?" Justin asks, stretching for the TV- guide. They’re all really into day-time television these days. Except for JC, who was always into day-time television.

"By us, yes, probably."

"Well, then, who cares about the rest?" Lance touches his face with delicate fingers. Lance learned quickly how to preen without a mirror. "You know, I am so glad I decided on having that little stubble when I was made. You guys reckon sideburns will still be in style in the 28^th Century?"

"I think by then you might be the one who decides, Lance."

Lance’s face lights up. "Thanks, Joey, you’re so tasty."

JC looks up from where he is sprawled on the floor, sucking his thumb (‘cause if you’ve recently fed, you’re own blood will do nicely for those in-between-meals munchies). "I think Come Inside And Suck Me" is a really good tune that anyone could learn to appreciate for the music, regardless of the explicit content."

Justin pats JC’s leg reassuringly. "Of course, baby. Don’t let it get you down." His hand stills on JC's thigh. "Hey, JC, I know what might make you feel better…" He starts humming the chorus of "Come inside and suck me" and JC looks up at him with a big grin.

JC and Justin write a lot of songs about their vampire lives, and they also have a lot of kinky sex. JC has a constant bite-wound under his chin that he has affectionately named ‘the Justin spot’. Everyone is slightly jealous of that spot.

"You know, I made all of you," Chris says, a bit grumpily. "Shouldn’t you people be worshipping me or something? I have this feeling you should be groveling."

"I’m not sure I can crouch that low," Joey says, as he mixes the vodka into the jar of pig’s blood that is everyone’s final proof that you really can get anything delivered at any time in Manhattan.

"I want to unmake you," Chris says sully.

"Bite me."

One day, they walk into Justin’s hotel room and find Nick Carter sitting on the bed, smiling around his two new pointy teeth. Justin is sitting next to him, looking sheepish.

They take a moment to just stare.

"Justin! How could you?"

Justin looks down, fiddles with the hem to his shirt, which is stained with fresh blood. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to."

"A Backstreet Boy." Lance is livid. "That’s it, Justin, we are going to file those teeth of yours down to nothing…"

"I didn’t mean to," Justin says again, his voice small and shaky. "I’m so sorry. You said it was alright, right, Nick."

"Sure," Nick says.

Lance looks at Justin. "You do realise this means you’ve actually killed someone, Justin, even if you brought them back afterwards." He pauses, "Granted, if you had to kill someone, Nick might be number three or four or so on the list," Lance smiles sweetly at Nick, "maybe even fifth. Is the guy who made "Crossroads" still alive?"

"Hey," Nick jumps up from the bed, stretches like a cat who’s just woken up, "I don’t need to listen to this. See ya, Timberlake. And thanks."

Justin, who has buried his head in his hands at the word ‘kill’, looks up. "I don’t know what came over me," he whispers, miserably. "I really didn’t mean to."

"Maybe it’s the blonde virgin appeal," Joey suggests. "That’s a thing, right? With us vampires? Right?"

"Hey, I’m no virgin," Nick mutters.

Joey ignores him. "'Cause, you know, Justin, if it’s the virgin appeal, then Britney is-"

"-neither a virgin nor a blonde," Justin says.

"I really don’t know why I did it, Chris," Justin says later, when he and Chris are alone. "I… we were just making out, and it was just, I don’t know, so frustrating. I just couldn’t get off. So he told me I could bite him a little. He asked me to. He said he figured maybe I just needed a little kick. So I did and, wow, it was… I just couldn’t stop. And finally, I had to make him or he would have died."

"Oh, Justin."

Chris sighs. He can picture it; Justin groaning, sucking on Nick’s neck, Nick closing his eyes and coming hard, then steadily growing paler and paler until he’s lifeless in Justin’s arms. Chris knows what that would look like, because he had Justin like that once. It hurts to remember, because Justin was so beautiful that night; beautiful in a way only humans can be. Chris had watched him and Justin had noticed and understood and been excited and slightly nervous. They’d tried to kiss at first, some bizarre version of foreplay, but with Chris’s teeth it had been impossible for anything but brief, light kisses with closed mouths. Finally, Justin just lay still in Chris arms, quiet, except for the whimpers of pleasure or pain or both or neither he made as Chris slowly sucked him. Chris remembers pulling back once towards the end, briefly changing his mind, or just because he needed to look, needed to see. Justin had already started to die then. Chris’d kissed him one more time while Justin’s lips were still warm and alive, and then he’d said goodbye to that boy and welcomed the Justin he would be able to share eternity with. The truth was so simple, Chris was worried someone might see it in his eyes. Because the others were mistakes, impulses, substitutes for what he really wanted, and the truth was, Justin needn’t have begged for it.

Now he pats Justin reassuringly on the shoulder and smiles thinly at him. "Maybe it’s just that subconsciously you always really wanted to make Nick," he suggests, since he knows about these things.

Justin lets out a snort. "Maybe subconsciously I always really wanted to kill him."

Nick takes off, and for a few nights nothing really happens, except that JC shows up in his new swimming trunks and cries when he remembers going to the beach is no longer available to him, and Chris finds a list in Lance's handwriting with the title "Things to do," and written underneath it:

Become America's first undead President
Order NASA to begin sun-blocking experiments (note; do not tell JC it's because of him in order to prevent tears, cries, guilt)
Become America's first undead President in Space.
Rent Interview with a Vampire again (Brad Pitt is such a hunk!)

Chris puts the list back and prays to God that Lance has forgiven him for unlawfully draining him of blood that night. He also prays that God has forgiven him for Lance.

But none of them kid themselves that biting a Backstreet Boy won't result in anything but big problems, so no one is really surprised when AJ walks in three nights later with Nick in tow. AJ's eyes are glittering as they fix on them one by one. Joey is on the phone to Brianna, making cooing noises while opening a beer bottle with his teeth. JC is rubbing some cream into his skin, and Lance is lounging in the chair, carefully filing his nails and deciding on that evening's shade of nail polish.

"Wow," AJ says, when they all look up at him. "It's like a scene from the gayest vampire flick ever." He turns to Nick. "Are you quite sure they're the living dead? 'Cause they look like a bunch of dorks."

"Hey!" JC protests and tries to hide the sun factor 3000 bottle behind a pillow.

"I swear," Nick says. "Timberlake is the one that bit me, but they're all vampires."

AJ still doesn't look very convinced. "Well, I thought vampires were suppose to be all scary and evil and…I mean, what the hell is he doing?"

He points at Lance who pauses in his nail-filing, taking a moment to critically inspect his work, and says coolly, "They needed trimming."

"A vampire who does manicure?" AJ asks, disbelieving.

Lance shrugs. "Just because your soul is condemned to eternal damnation doesn't mean you can't look pretty."

While Nick secretly admires Lance's perfect nails, AJ just shakes his head and asks, "So where the fuck is Timberlake anyway? At a Vampire Spa or something?"

"No," JC says, a bit surly now. Justin's his best friend and AJ is sounding awfully sarcastic. "He's…out."

"Doing what?"

"Doing…vampire stuff."

"Sucking the blood of innocents?" AJ asks, hopefully.

"Um," JC says, just as the door swings open and Justin walks in, big blue eyes suspiciously teary and a deflated basketball stuck on his pointy teeth. He makes a whiny noise and JC springs to his feet.

"Justin? What happened, baby?"

"Ge wall chtuck in wy keeth."

"Oh honey," JC says and gently helps Justin unhook the basketball. Justin makes another pathetic sound and sinks down on the couch.

"It just got stuck. Stupid ball." He sighs deeply and looks at JC, eyes huge and begging for sympathy. "My fangs hurt," he whines, and JC cuddles him.

"Oh, poor Justin, here, put your head in my lap."

AJ rolls his eyes. "So Timberlake still sucks at basketball and Flamey here is still a girl. Nice to see some things never change," he says, and Justin and JC both glare at him.

"Hey," JC protests again. "Did you come here just to insult us?"

"Yeah, AJ?" Justin offers up his most evil face. "You've got a lot of guts just walking in here. You're putting yourself in a lot of danger and I should probably warn you that you may not come out of it alive." Justin's evil face would probably work better if it didn't make him look like a mix between Joey's daughter and Lady in Lady and the Tramp.

AJ snorts at him and still looks extremely unimpressed. "Nick told me about this bloodsucking business and I thought it sounded cool and…is that sun lotion?"

JC goes red and kick the bottle under the couch. "I tend to forget," he explains as AJ keeps staring at him. "You know, about the sun, and… it not being a friend of ours."

Joey pats JC's arm understandingly. "But you walk out into it a lot less frequently then you used to at least," he says encouragingly and JC smiles back, a sad fang-less smile, because he knows Joey is just trying to be nice.

"I'm trying," he mutters and watches AJ roll his eyes and make a rude gesture with his hand.

"I'm glad to hear it. Now, could one of you tooth fairies tell me where Kirkpatrick is? Nick told me he was the uber-vamp or whatever it's called around here."

At this, Lance utters a loud "Ha! Uber-vamp my immortal ass!" but then he clamps his mouth shut and goes back to his nails again, so JC has to be the one to ask, "Um, why do you want to see Chris?"

"Yeah," comes from the bathroom door where Chris suddenly appears, bare-chested and freshly showered. "Why do you wanna see me, Alex?" He licks his lips suggestively, but AJ is staring at something just beneath his chin. Chris feels a little bit less confident, and he tugs at his beard horns to make sure they're not looking ridiculous or anything. "What?" he finally asks.

Joey is the one to answer him. "Er, Chris, you have something hanging from your teeth, man."

Chris fumbles for the long thread and gets it. He looks back at AJ and pins him with a glare, "I was flossing my fangs. That's allowed, you know."

AJ closes his eyes briefly and sighs deeply, his chest rising and falling underneath his shirt. He looks at Chris with slight regret. "Well, okay, the way I see it, you made all of…them. And since I don't want no sloppy first-timer to do me like Curly over there did Nick-" Nick instinctively puts his hand over the angry red teeth marks on his neck, and Justin looks hurt "-I went here instead to make sure I'd get the best suck of my life. However," he shakes his head in distaste. "From what I've seen so far, maybe I had too high expectations."

"Hey, AJ, I could do you, if you want," Lance drawls in his most southern accent. "See, I can understand why a man would like to choose who bites him-" He looks pointedly at Chris. "-Instead of being, say, date-raped by one of his band mates."

Lance has named that particular night, "My Night of Endless Horror and Unwilling Mating with the Vile One" and is still nowhere near over it.

AJ looks at him. "Hmm, you do seem to be the only one with some potential out of these dickless losers." Lance triumphantly closes in on AJ, but AJ meets his eyes steadily and continues. "Have you made anyone else?"

Lance stops, a bit more uncertain now, and licks his fangs. "Um, no."

"Then sorry, manicure-boy, I'm not trading in one blonde first-timer for another."

Lance's cheeks turn slightly blue, but he backs off. "Fine. But let me ask you, why do you think we would want to make you into one of us, anyway? Nick was a mistake. A bad one."

AJ shrugs. "Fine. You want the next National Enquirer headline to read 'Revealed: Why Nsync really N'suck! FBI joins in on first witch-hunt of the twentieth century.'"

Lance's eyes narrow. "Maybe you want the next tabloid headline to read 'Tattooed, washed-up boy band member found hanging over cliff in his nose-ring?'"

AJ throws his hands up and walks towards the door. "Fine. You wanna turn down a real first-class neck like mine, it's your loss. Come on, Nick. I've decided you can make me after all."

Everyone stares in horror. "No."

"You can't."

"Hey Nick, wait," Justin tries from his place in JC's lap. "I'll give you a blow job if you don't make AJ."

Nick shakes his head and walks over to where AJ is standing. "Um, thanks man, but I saw what you did to that basketball, so…no."

AJ turns to all of them, a cat-like gleam in his eyes. His pale skin shines where the streetlights outside the windows hit it. He stretches, showing off his long, slender throat and Nick moans a little behind him. "Come on," he says to Nick, but directs it to everyone in the room. "I'll let you suck me dry, big boy." He lets his eyes travel over their faces, quickly. "And I hope you think about what you're missing"

They leave. Chris stands up, points after them, and states grimly, "No good can come of this."

Lance makes a face. "We should probably warn the unknowing public. And the rest of the Backstreet Boys. Or maybe just the public."

"100 bucks says they don't even make it to the limo before Nick starts sucking on any part of AJ he can get his fangs on."

A silence falls over the bus. No one looks very enthusiastic about the possibility of having a snarky AJ around for all eternity.

"This is really bad, you guys," Joey sighs.

"Really, really bad," Chris emphasizes.

"My fangs hurt," Justin whimpers from JC's lap.

Early one morning, a few days later, they come home to find Kevin sitting at the table in Lance’s suite, looking mightily pissed off.

They’re all a little surprised, because it’s not the Backstreet Boy they expect to see. "Kevin. Hello. Um, what are you doing here?"

Kevin slams his fist down on the table so hard they all jump. "Fools," he roars, and when he looks at them with his black eyes, they see it so clearly it seems incomprehensible that they never saw it before.

"K-Kevin," Chris says, "you’re, you’re a… one of us."

Kevin snarls and they all get a little impressed. And a lot scared. "Fools," Kevin says again. "I am nothing like you. You re all a bunch of idiots."

"Hey…"

Kevin stands up, and it is as if they never fully realised how tall he is. They all shrink away as Kevin paces back and forth in front of them, looking at them one by one. "Idiots. Morons. Amateurs." He stops briefly in front of JC. "And what's this, Kirkpatrick? Why did you gladly go and make everyone else in your band left and right, but not this one."

JC blinks. "I’m… I’m a vampire too," he says in a small voice.

Kevin’s eyes narrow for a moment, looking even more closely at JC, then he sneers loudly. "Pathetic. Is this the best you can do, Kirkpatrick? Vampires who wear flip-flops?" JC’s eyes widen, then he blinks rapidly and looks away. Kevin shakes his head. "Useless. Shouldn’t even be allowed. Do you guys have any idea what you have gone and done?"

"What have we done?" Chris protests. He hates to see JC cry. "We haven’t done anything? We don’t even eat people.. except for in a good way."

Kevin turns to him, and Chris regrets opening his mouth. "Ah, you haven’t done anything wrong, have you?" Kevin looms threateningly and Chris backs away. "Nothing wrong at all? Is that why Nick is running around town showing off his pretty new set of pointers? Do you know how long I have been refusing to make him? You fools."

Justin pipes up, "Who said you can decide who we get to make? We are all equals here."

Kevin turns his dark eyes on him, and everyone can hear Justin gulp. Kevin shakes his head. "Equals? How long have you even been vampires, huh? A second? You’re babies, infants, dumb little spawns of an absolute imbecile…"

"Hey," Chris says, indignantly, "I resent that. And just so you know, I happen to have been a vampire for years. Years. I’ve been around since Hanson."

Kevin snorts. "Years? Kirkpatrick, you wouldn’t be any wiser or older if you so were a hundred years old. Like me."

They all gape. "You’re… you’re… a hundred?"

Kevin stands up, and no one dares to say anything more, except for Justin who exclaims, "I knew it!" and then quickly clasps his hands over his mouth. "It’s just. It explains so much," he hisses around his palms.

Kevin looks around, letting his gaze linger on them one at a time. "Yes, I have been a vampire for a hundred years. And in those hundred years, I have never been this pissed off. Now, who is responsible for this unfortunate making of Nick."

Everyone points at Justin.

"Hey," Justin says, then shrinks away as Kevin nears him dangerously.

"You," Kevin says. "I should have known."

Lance half raises his hand. "Kevin, just so you know, I was against making Timberlake in the first place." Justin shoots him a hurt look, which Lance ignores.

"Look," Justin tries, as Kevin stops right in front of him, hovering threateningly above him, "it was a mistake, I didn’t mean to. They… they never taught me how to avoid it. It’s true. They made me, so it’s their responsibility, right?"

Kevin grabs Justin by the collar and pulls him up. "Couldn’t keep away from golden boy’s charm, huh? How weak are you? One smile and he gets his way? Pathetic fool."

Justin slowly starts to blush, which only shows when his cheeks take on a bluish quality.

"Just so you remember," Lance says, "I was against Justin even being allowed to have fangs."

"Shut up," Kevin roars. He drops Justin again, who quickly runs and hides behind Chris. "I hold all of you responsible. Thanks to you Nick is now an irresponsible, trouble-making, stupid and thoughtless little shit with superpowers and an eternity on his hands, and do you know what the absolutely worst part is? He’s fucking gone and made AJ." There is a long silence. Kevin nods. "Yes, AJ. You know, if there was one person in the world that I least of all would want to make into a vampire, it would be AJ. I would rather make Carson Daly into a vampire. I would rather the whole of O-town were immortal children of darkness. I would rather have Eminem as an eternal life-companion, traveling through the Arctic, living on frozen seal-carcasses. You hear that? I would rather suck on Eminem, than have AJ made into a vampire."

There is a long silence.

Finally, Justin points out that the sun is about to rise, and Kevin is still mad when he leaves. Everyone is thankful for long, sunny summer days.

"So, Chris, let me just see if I get this right. If you made Justin and he made Nick who then made AJ, does that make you great-grandfather McLean?"

"Fuck off, Joey."

"Sorry. Just trying to assign blame here."

"Hey, guys! Nick and AJ are on the News."

INT Breaking news. Dean Cain reports:

Nick Carter and AJ McLean, the two youngest members of the popgroup the Backstreet Boys, seem to have "lost it completely," as one distressed leather-bar owner (and former fan) puts it. The latest reports claim Carter and McLean have in one night managed to turn the whole squeaky clean boyband image on its head with their mad antics. Earlier this evening, a live TV Entertainment News crew caught up with them in a down-town bar, where they were quoted telling fans to let them "suck them" as well as encouraging all teenagers to "drink, have unprotected sex, take drugs, pierce your nipples, and never listen to your parents." Carter, 21, was then seen pulling out his own pierced proud member, waving it around and chanting, "Is anyone in here a blonde virgin?" The TV crew who took this shocking footage have since been unavailable for any further comments.

The irresponsible behavior of Carter and McLean has shocked the nations pop-fans and their parents. Backstreet Boys memorabilia bonfires have been predicted to start popping up all over the Mid-west. The New York neo-punk scene, conversely, have been predicted to stop with theirs.

What is for certain, is that the Backstreet Boys reputation have been permanently damaged, and it is questionable that they will ever recover from this crisis. The Backstreet bandmember, Kevin Richardson has been quoted as saying that he looks at the situation as "deeply regrettable" and that he will not rest until those responsible have paid. The other two members of BSB, Brian Littrell and Howie Dorough, are currently unavailable for comment.

The rest of the music business is equally shocked by the clean-cut teen idols’ fall from grace. Rumors are that they will be edited out of the All-Stars collaboration, and their record company Jive is said to be close to backing out. Britney Spears, Mandy Moore, Christina Aguilera, Aaron Carter, Natalie Portman, Samantha Mumba and Nsync member Lance Bass have all expressed disgust about the Backstreet Boys behavior, and singer Marilyn Manson has been quoted as saying, "Backstreet Boys is a bad influence on teenagers today. I think parents should think twice about letting their kids buy their records." Marilyn Manson is currently unavailable for comment.

Music experts around the world agree that this crisis in the Backstreet Boys camp could not have come at a worse time. With the rival band Nsync’s album "Blood, Blood, Blood" selling less than any other boyband album in the world ever – including True Vibe and Upside Down – this is a bleak time for pop. It’s been predicted that the only ones who might stand to gain from all of this is the band O-Town, whose records sales are predicted to soar simply from lack of competition. O-Town were unavailable for comment.

"Well," Lance says, rubbing his hands together. "I say this wasn’t all together a bad development. Good work, Justin."

"Yeah, I’ll drink to that."

"Cheers!"

They’re in Lance’s hotel room, sharing a bottle of champagne, listening to an old Savage Garden album; their favorite pre-bloodfest music. Soon, they will all go out to feed on the fans.

Justin is lying with his head in Chris’s lap, slowly stroking Chris's ankles with his perfect, pink nails. Chris has never been happier.

"Well, there’s some good news and some bad news, I suppose," Lance says.

They all turn to look at him. "Yeah? And what might that be?"

Lance grins at them. "Well, the bad news is that it looks like we will have to spend eternity with at least three of the five Backstreet Boys." Everyone groans. "However," Lance says and raises his champagne glass, "the good news is… we get to spend eternity with him."

Everyone turn to look at Darren Hayes, who’s laying spread out and blissed out on top of the hotel bed, five separate teeth-marks adorning his pale body. He’s blinking dreamily and carefully licking his new fangs.

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