Vampires have cold feet.

This makes sleeping next to one uncomfortable, unless, of course, you happen to be a vampire yourself. In which case, the body lying next to you as dawn approaches, whether beautiful or hideous, seems like just that. A body. Cold skin, soft, but not as soft as it once was. Cold elbows needling in your side. Cold knees digging into your hip. Cold hands caressing cold faces. No breathing. No movement. Two corpses holding one another in stillness, until the sun fades below the horizon.

Unless you're Heathcliff. The Seneschal, still a neonate among the ranks of the undead, clutched at his fading Humanity like a shipwrecked sailor to flotsam. As such, he still experienced the occasional bouts of insomnia he dealt with when alive- just twelve hours later.

He watches his companion's face in the darkness of their new apartment for a moment before slipping his arm out from under her head and sliding out of bed. He need not be so careful; while the sun shines above, Madison sleeps like she's not going to wake again.

He putters about the apartment for a bit, then tries to catch up on some emails from work, but he's too groggy to concentrate properly. He checks his phone to find a text from Beth, asking him to watch their daughter next weekend. Things must be getting serious between her and her new beau, for them to take a weekend trip together. Heathcliff fretted. He'd need to send Madison somewhere and come up with a plausible excuse. He didn't yet trust her enough to tell her about his family. It was too much of a risk- for him, and for her. Who knew what happened to Arnoud after the Carthian had agreed to move Heathcliff's family out of the city for him? He imagined that whatever had happened to the Toreador, or who happened to him, more likely, that it wasn't pleasant. He had a suspicion his Sire was involved. Sebastian always was.

He texted Beth back that he'd be glad to, and that part was true. He loved Rachel more than anything in the world, and he was only too relieved to find that Arnoud had disappeared and not her. But he needed to be assured of their safety.

Heathcliff makes himself a drink, hopefully to settle himself back down to sleep. He forces the stolen Vitae within to mimic life, and as he sips at the warm amber, considers that the only way Beth and Rachel would ever truly be safe is in the event of his death...