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Andy sighed, turning off the car. It was dim and gloomy, and when he looked out of his window, he could barely see the setting sun behind the thick, dark clouds that hung low in the sky. While he didn't generally appreciate this kind of weather, he had to admit it fit the scene before him.
Beacon Mental Hospital was a bit more than 'gloomy', to say the least. He didn't know why it looked like an old castle, because it was located in Nowhere, USA, but he couldn't deny the resemblance. Maybe people who built mental institutions had a thing for 15th century British architecture. He had no idea.
Anyway, the place was falling apart. Literally. He'd been keeping track of the number of intact windows on the place, and he was sad to say that the number was dropping like Blockbuster. He swore could see the entire place leaning slightly to the left. He figured that he would die in there at some point because a load bearing wall would fail and the entire place would collapse on top of him.
Still, he grabbed his backpack from the passenger seat, braced himself for the chill of the twilight air, and got himself out of the car.
It was deceptively wet out. It wasn't raining, but the air was heavy, threatening to thicken into a fog at the very least. The ground was darker than normal under the dimming light. Andy decided it was probably best if he didn't hang around outside for too long this evening.
Pebbles from the cracked pavement crunched underfoot as he made his way to the entrance. It was a dark, foreboding set of double doors, and Andy still couldn't figure out why they had been designed that way. One of the doors had blown off of its hinges years ago during a storm, and the other had become pretty much immobile.
He pulled out his phone as he walked in, turning on the flashlight and taking care not to trip on any of the debris underfoot.
While the outside was dilapidated and worn down, the inside was even worse. It was damp, in here, and that had nothing to do with the weather outside. Andy had been here enough over the years to know that even in a drought it was almost always damp in Beacon.
The first time he was in here, camera and flashlight and notebook in hand, he'd been bewildered by the wet inside the hospital. It had been a hot summer day outside, dry heat permeating the air in such a way that Andy had thought he would never take water for granted again. That had been about twenty years ago. He'd snapped several pictures just inside the entrance, which hadn't changed in any meaningful way over the years he'd been coming here.
The chairs that had been in what used to be a lobby had given up and broken down long ago, wood nearly rotten away. The large rug that Andy walked across squelched, releasing something that smelled like a cross between mildew and death.
Other than debris like leaves and sticks blowing in and out, and signs of animal movement, the lobby was still the same.
Andy didn't spend very long there, heading towards the stairs to the basement. Thankfully, the stairs were clear.
Some interesting things were down in the basement. Electric chairs, incinerators, gurneys and wheelchairs were some of the objects that tended to catch Andy's eye, and while he usually chose to ignore how those things were used, it reminded him of how far society had come. Places like Beacon weren't as common as they used to be.
Broken glass crunched underfoot. The sound echoed around the large space, and Andy turned his attention to one of the few entrances to the underground tunnels that Beacon had.
One of the interesting things about the hospital's design was the miles of tunnels that hid underneath the buildings. As far as Andy knew, with the amount of research he'd been able to do on the place, the first intention with the underground network was to aid employees with getting to and from the six separate buildings on the property with relative ease.
The second, and the reason the network was built like a maze, was to confuse and trap patients if they happened to escape. Andy was pretty sure that practice was outlawed at this point, and he was pretty happy about that. It seemed cruel at best.
The third was why he was here in the first place.
Andy knew the route like the back of his hand, and sometimes he turned his flashlight off at this point. Animals didn't tend to venture this far into Beacon, like they instinctively knew to stay away. Still, Amdy wasn't feeling too brave tonight, so the flashlight remained on.
The cracks in the concrete walls started to blend together as Andy trudged on, the spiderweb patterned fractures blurring together against the grey. Andy could hear his footsteps and breathing echo almost painfully loudly down the halls. A drop of water splashing into a puddle sounded from somewhere far away.
Years ago, the silence would have felt suffocating, terrifying. While he wouldn't say it wasn't unnerving, Andy wasn't as afraid of it anymore.
His shoulders burned under the pressure of the straps of his backpack. He figured he should invest in a new one, with actual shoulder padding, but he kept putting it off. Maybe next time he would remember.
Andy turned, looking down a long staircase. His phone's flashlight didn't reach the bottom. Bingo.
The railing, while still mostly in tact, was more of a decoration than anything. Andy didn't even bother grabbing it anymore. The first time he'd tripped down these stairs, it had given way like he was holding onto nothing. It was just a moist shell of rotten wood.
Water plopped into a puddle again, though he was closer to the source than last time. Andy started his descent.
The stairs leading down were the same grey as the rest of the tunnels, gloomy and dark and probably fostering an undiscovered species of mold. Concerningly, there was a huge crack on the ceiling, though it hadn't gotten bigger for as long as Andy had been coming here.
Soon enough, Andy came to the bottom of the staircase. This is where he came to a stop, flashlight illuminating a metal door.
Carefully, he pulled his bag from his shoulders, opening it up and pulling out a few things. Scissors, a copy of Andre Agassi's autobiography, and the most important part- a blood bag. Type AB positive, in fact. Andy pursed his lips. This was always the tricky part.
Slowly, quietly, he slunk to the door. He oiled the thing regularly, so it didn't screech when he twisted the heavy duty handle, didn't make a sound when he opened it just a crack. Just as slowly, he set down the book in between the door and the doorframe, propping it open gingerly. He retreated as fast as he could while still making as little sound as possible.
He took a deep breath, took the scissors in hand, and snipped into the blood bag.
No matter how long he had been doing this, it never got less frightening.
Footsteps pounded towards him, giving him just a few precious moments to drop the bag and stumble back before the door burst open. Andy could hear the echo of the door slamming into the concrete, but he didn't look. No, he was elbows deep in his backpack, grabbing another blood bag, not even bothering to read what kind it was before he threw it at the person who had hunched over the one he'd dropped.
He pulled out a third bag, the last one he'd brought with him, and finally turned just in time to watch the vampire rip open the second blood bag and drink it down like he had been dying of thirst. It was only ten seconds at most before the bag had gone dry, and then red eyes trained on Andy.
"Hey, don't you dare-" Andy started, but he was too late and probably wouldn't have done anything anyway. The vampire launched himself at Andy, knocking him back and pinning him tight to the wall.
Pete, the vampire, grinned at him. Andy gave him a dirty look.
"You're going to give me a heart attack one of these days." Andy grumbled.
"Maybe that's the point." Pete responded. Andy watched the red fade from the vampire's eyes, irises turning back to a relatively human brown color.
"You like me too much to want to cause death by heart attack. You'd probably go for something like death by exploding toilets."
Pete laughed, stepping back. "Hello, Andy. How was your day?"
"Just dandy." Andy rolled his eyes. "I got you that book you wanted. Try not to burn it again."
"That was a freak accident."
"Sure."
The third intention behind the maze of underground tunnels was to conceal the experimentation on vampirism that Beacon had been doing. Pete, originally admitted sometime in the 1892 for "manic-depressive insanity", was the product of said experimentation. Andy found his intake papers at the local library. He'd found Pete's death certificate, too. He had been 27, when he died.
They had claimed it to be a suicide. Andy knew better. He had a pretty reliable source, after all.
Andy sighed. If he thought about all of the injustices at Beacon alone he would he standing here all night. Instead, he followed the vampire back through the door, into a well maintained, homey series of rooms.
This was the only part of Beacon that was paid any attention anymore, and Andy had personally picked out most of the furniture and appliances to make this place reflect what was basically a modern apartment.
"Did you want to do anything tonight? Anything fun happen? Any news stories you're about to break? Like, I've just been hanging out, as usual, not much to do. I mean, other than playing Contra- thank you again, by the way- I just. You know. I'm holed up in here." Pete finished his rambling quickly and quietly.
Andy smiled. "Well, there was a scare at the peewee soccer meet today. Some teenager was screwing around with a knife in the woods nearby."
Pete scowled. "Of course there was."
Andy made a noise of agreement. "Well, you know. Teenagers."
"Teenagers." Pete muttered.
A soft silence settled between them. It was nice, in here. Warm and actually sort of dry. The wallpaper and paint definitely added to making Pete's living space far less dreary than the rest of Beacon. That was by design.
Pete wasn't really suited for life out in the world. He knew that, and Andy knew it too. Even if Andy could set up a steady flow of bagged blood directly to his house without raising any eyebrows, there was always a chance of something going wrong.
There was a reason Andy showed up with three bags ready to go every time he came to visit.
"Andy?"
The man snapped back to reality, blinking at the vampire staring at him with a concerned look on his face. "What?"
"Are you feeling alright? You've been staring at that wall for a solid thirty seconds."
"Oh. Yeah. Just thinking." Andy responded, wishing he was a bit more eloquent.
Pete just nodded. "Cool. Did you want to watch anything? I was thinking maybe Nightmare Before Christmas."
Then, Andy finally remembered the other thing he'd brought, having forgotten about it somewhere in between all the walking and such.
"Oh! I have a new- or, well, updated- movie for you to watch!"
Pete looked at him in interest as he rummaged through his bag yet again. And then his eyes widened as Andy presented the case to him.
"The director's cut of Terminator Salvation?!" He squealed, plucking it from Andy's hands and holding the DVD case like it was precious china. "We are watching this now."
Andy grinned, rolling his eyes. That was about the reaction he was expecting. "It has three extra minutes of runtime!" He said, humoring the vampire.
Pete bounced over to his DVD player in his "living room", which was really a corner of a huge open concept living space that used to be an examination room. Andy had done his best to mask what it used to be, but there wasn't really any getting around the fact that this room was massive. At least the huge sectional did a good job of pretending to be a wall.
Following the vampire, Andy got a good look at the disc Pete ejected from the player, and it didn't surprise him to see Pete had been watching The Princess Bride. It was a classic for a good reason.
Pete was muttering to himself excitedly as he tore into the plastic film around the Terminator case, and shooed Andy to go sit on the couch as he carefully started the movie.
Andy wasn't very interested in watching the movie. Instead, he watched Pete.
On the surface, he looked very much the same as when Andy had stumbled on him about twenty years ago. Same size, same long hair, same stupid, crooked smile plastered across his face. The benefits of being immortal, or what they presumed was immortal.
However, Andy could tell he had changed. There was light behind his eyes now. He actually seemed happier. And, of course, him not starving probably helped.
Andy had been doing an investigation on Beacon, the practices, how they treated patients, and how it compared to current mental institutions. He'd already done all of the research he could, finding archived documents, descendants of patients and families, hell, the place had closed in 1963, he managed to interview someone who worked there.
So, naturally, the only thing left was to actually go on location and snoop around.
The first day, looking back, wasn't all that special. It had felt huge, sure, but he had really only explored two buildings- the one he'd entered today, where all of the administration was, and the common building. The administration building was fairly standard, though even back then it was showing signs of wear and tear.
From what Andy understood, that was the only place visitors were allowed. It was easier to hide what they were doing to patients that way, he figured.
The common building housed the huge gymnasium, the cafeteria, and the theater, among a few other things. According to the former employee, this was probably one of the very few places where patients may have felt even a little happy.
Andy had taken a lot of pictures, vigorous notes, and deep breaths. Even in these two buildings, signs of abuse were apparent. From the restraints and gurneys, and the horror stories he'd heard, there was a sense of weight that he couldn't shake.
And then he'd gone home.
The second day, he tackled two more buildings- the men's and women's buildings. They were mostly tight rooms and compact cells, with a large medical area and showers on each of the three stories. It had been eerily quiet, and had felt even heavier than the first two buildings.
It made Andy's skin crawl, as he peered into rooms where people had been tortured and restrained for daring to be something other than 'normal'. He could almost hear the noises the former employee had described- constant screaming, crying, whimpering. Some would beg to go home, some didn't even say words anymore.
He got the pictures he needed and left.
The third day was the last two buildings, the medical center and the warehouse. He'd gone to the warehouse first, which was just full of extra equipment like wheelchairs and gurneys. It was probably one of the most comfortable places on the property, knowing patients didn't really go here. There wasn't much that was interesting, though. Everything was rusted and falling apart from disuse.
The medical center was another story altogether. That building had been where surgeries were performed, from amputations to lobotomies, forced onto patients to try and 'cure' them. Andy didn't like to think about what they had done, didn't like being in the building in the first place, but he needed pictures and notes.
And in one of the offices, he found something interesting. Several senior doctors had left something in a locked cabinet, but by that point the lock had been so weakened by rust that Andy very easily broke in.
There were several large files on vampirism, and while Andy was skeptical, he carefully put them in his bag and continued his search.
And that night, he read about several patients all involved in a disease experiment, particularly one Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III. Most of the other patients had died and been incinerated. A handful had survived, but had been far too difficult to keep contained, and had been incinerated alive. But Pete had survived, and had been relatively compliant.
The tests the doctors had done on him were horrific. Andy had been enthralled, though. He stayed up so late that it was considered early when he went to bed.
Day four was supposed to focus on the underground tunnels, but Andy instead pivoted to focus on the files. The files went back to 1886, following the admittance of Oliver Thatchwood, who bit and infected a staff member with the 'sickness' he had. Oliver had been 'disposed of', but a few years later, the confidential vampirism program began.
Pete had been infected by a patient that had broken out of containment in October of 1898. He'd been quietly moved late in the night from his bed in the Men's building to the underground rooms he now called home.
The files ended very abruptly in early 1963, just before Beacon closed.
Back then, Andy hadn't been sure what to think about the whole thing. The files were meticulously written, and had so much information and were so fleshed out that he couldn't just disregard them as being completely false.
His fourth day had ended with thinking about what preparations and precautions he would need to take when he went to explore the tunnels. The files had been very particular about how to approach patients, citing several staff and doctor deaths from not following protocol.
First, a bell would be rung, signaling to patients to get in the back of their cells. Second, blood would be provided by doctors remotely, at first via strapped down convicted criminals, by 1942 via refrigerated blood, and finally in 1953 with blood bags. When patients were full, they were ready to be tested.
So, Andy got in contact with a blood bank. He explained he was a journalist, and wanted to know about how blood was drawn and such.
Two weeks later he had five bags of blood, one of which was his own, and had bought himself some time to keep exploring Beacon by submitting a piece on blood banking, the importance of blood drives, and what donated blood is used for.
He was ready to explore the tunnels.
At this point, he had already known about the reasons for why the tunnels were built, and why they were built the way they were. And, logically, he knew they were made to be hard to traverse. He knew it was going to be especially difficult because there were no maps or guides.
Maps had only been made just after the tunnels finished construction, and then after about a month, they were destroyed. Since then, he knew, not only were there renovations to the place, but he assumed that there was a high likelihood of cave-ins or other obstacles preventing him from just going to visit the underground lab. So, not only was he armed with his trusty flashlight, notepad, and a cooler full of blood, but also chalk, rope, and several rolls of different colored duct tape. And, well, food and water. His bag was packed tight.
The plan, really, was to start at the administration building and figure out the connections to the other buildings. After that, he would mark the path to each building with duct tape on the floor. He would chalk the walls to mark dead ends or paths he'd taken. The rope would be tied at the entrance to the basement of the last building he was in, then tied around his waist. His notepad, with grid paper, would be sketching the tunnels as he went.
He really didn't feel like dying lost underground.
It had been so unbearably hot outside when he arrived, he almost decided not to bring a jacket. But, he remembered the wet, the cold that seemed to never let go of Beacon. He clutched it tight to him as he made his way into the administration building, opening the only door that moved. He took a deep breath, then stepped in.
'Stick to the left wall.' He'd thought, going over a list of basic maze rules in his head as he headed to the basement.
It took him about an hour to find the next building, getting stuck going in circles and turned around at dead ends. At the very least, his method made it very easy to notice when he came up somewhere he'd been before.
If only it helped the unnerving silence, the feeling of being where he shouldn't be. Like the ghosts of the people that were locked up here wanted him gone. He just tried to ignore that feeling and focused on the task at hand.
He marked where the Administration building met the Men's building, took the yellow duct tape, and it took him all of about ten minutes to tape the path back to the Administration basement.
One out of five.
It took him less time to find the next basement- the warehouse took about forty five minutes- mainly because he'd already mapped out several dead ends. He'd used neon green tape to get back to the Administration building.
Two out of five.
The medical center's basement took maybe half an hour, and Andy used white tape to get back to Administration.
Three.
Fifteen minutes to get to Women's. Orange tape. The sound of the tape ripping felt almost comforting, breaking up the silence.
Four.
There were only so many ways left to go. Andy took a break to eat lunch.
And then, he went to go find the common building. He noticed a long, dark set of stairs he passed by. He took note of those, figuring that was where he would find the remains of one Peter Wentz. There was no way the guy was still alive.
It took him only a couple minutes after passing those stairs to find the common building. He taped the ground with his last remaining color, red.
Five out of five. Found within four hours. Nice.
Andy grinned to himself. This felt like an accomplishment, like deadlifting 225 for the first time. Except this atmosphere was a whole lot sadder.
He huffed out a sigh. Now to find out the fate of the 'compliant vampire'.
It was quick, when he knew where to go. Or, relatively quick. It didn't take an hour to get where he was going. He could hear when his pace picked up. He was really ready to get this over with. He didn't want to be down here anymore.
He came up to the stairs. His flashlight didn't reach the bottom, and he pursed his lips.
Nobody would know if he chickened out now. He could pretend like this place didn't exist. Leave and never come back.
Sighing, he took hold of the miraculously still intact railing and slowly made his way down the steps.
Finally, he made it to the bottom, and took a survey of his surroundings. There wasn't much to write home about, except the huge metal door. He blinked. This was… interesting. Yeah. He'd go with that.
Carefully, he approached. The handle looked like it could withstand a nuclear bomb going off, and the door itself was in pretty good condition, especially compared to everything else in here. The doctors weren't kidding around with this thing.
The handle felt like it was grinding against something when he twisted it, and the door screeched loudly when he heaved it open. It hurt to hear. Andy cringed at the noise.
He peered inside, flashlight shining in on a large room, full of glinting metal instruments. It gave him the heebie jeebies to look at.
Andy stepped in, and the door slammed shut, screaming on its hinges before crashing against the jamb. Even though he was braced for it, it still made him jump.
Clutching the cooler tighter, he stared around what he understood to be the examination room. There was a table with metal restraints built in towards the back of the room, and he had read enough to know what that was used for.
It made him feel sick.
Cautiously, he padded towards the hall at the back of the room. This was the way to the holding cells.
This place was even gloomier than all the other buildings put together, Andy decided. He just needed to snap some pictures and leave. Get the job done. Call it a day.
He turned the corner to check the cells. Small windows let him peer inside each cell. He glanced in the first one. Nothing. Concrete and chains. The second one was the same.
The third one made his blood run cold.
Something was staring at him. Eyes glinted in the light of his flashlight.
Andy heard himself scream, and the thing was up on its feet in an instant, suddenly straining against chains towards him when it had been in a pile in the corner a second ago. He stumbled back, landing on his ass unceremoniously as his flashlight rolled away.
He could hear growling and chains rattling from inside the cell. He could feel his heart beating out of his chest.
It took him a moment before he stood again, shaking. He moved to pick up his flashlight again, hands trembling as he reached down. Then, he blinked over at who he could only assume to be Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III.
The man growled at him again when he came to stand at the window. From here, with a little more time to process, Andy could tell that this was indeed a man. Or, used to be. Andy wasn't sure about that part, actually.
Peter's eyes were bright red, almost glowing, for one. Andy didn't think that was a natural human color. And, well, the fact that this man was moving was a little hard to wrap his head around. He had to be well over a century and a quarter, which wasn't really a thing that could happen if you weren't eating for the last forty years.
Andy glanced over at the cooler. Well, it couldn't hurt to try, right?
He opened it, pulled one of the bags out, and slid it through a little flap in the door that was conveniently blood bag sized.
Peter was on it in an instant. The sound of plastic tearing was muffled, but Andy definitely heard it.
It was probably a good thing he'd brought multiple.
The next two were gone almost immediately, and Andy worried that he hadn't brought enough. The man seemed a bit less feral, though, no longer staring at him like a piece of meat. Still, he slid the fourth bag in as soon as the slurping noises stopped.
A small pause, before the sound of the bag being ripped open. Was he getting full? Andy could only guess.
When the noises stopped, Andy spoke up.
"Uh, this is the last one I have, okay? Is that alright?" Andy cringed at his own voice as it trembled.
There was a couple seconds of silence. "... Yes? That's… alright."
Andy bit his lip as he slid in the fifth and final bag of blood.
There was a tearing noise a few moments later.
"My name is Andy, if you wanted to know."
"I… I forgot my name. It's been so long."
"Peter." Andy answered. "At least, that's what it said in the files."
Slurping noises filled the next several seconds. "That's not quite… I think I was called 'Pete', at one point. Before I was here."
Andy nodded, mostly to himself. "Do you promise not to eat me if I try to open this door?"
"I… yes. I am full."
He looked over at the door. It appeared to be the same as the one at the bottom of the stairs.
It didn't screech as much as the one at the bottom of the stairs when he heaved it open, though it was still loud. While Andy didn’t like the noise, he couldn’t imagine what Pete was feeling. It had been, what, 41 years, stuck in basically a sensory deprivation chamber? And suddenly some bumbling idiot comes in and starts making loud noises?
Pete stared at him warily, back in the corner of the room, the empty bags laying next to him.
“Why are you here?” He asked slowly.
Andy blinked. “Uh, I’m a journalist. I was doing a piece on the history of this place.”
Pete didn’t look like he really believed him. “What year is it?”
“2004.”
The man in the corner made a noise. Andy wasn’t sure what that noise was supposed to mean.
It was silent for a few moments. Andy beamed his flashlight around the room. Yeah, it was all grey concrete, not much to even stare at. Though, he supposed, it wouldn’t matter much. Even if the walls were patterned, it still would have gotten very old, if he could even see in the dark.
Forty years of staring at nothing. Chained up and starving. He couldn't imagine what that was like.
"Do you want me to try getting those chains off?" Andy offered quietly.
Pete just nodded back.
He approached carefully. He knew what the doctors had done to Pete, and he didn't want the guy to get it twisted. Andy was no doctor.
Andy crouched down to get a better look, and Pete offered him a wrist. The lock was simple enough. Just required a key. Fortunately, Andy had a trusty handful of paperclips in his backpack, because he may or may have been trespassing on property semi-frequently in his last several years of being an investigative journalist.
He dug them out and unbent two, before getting to work. The first one didn't take long, maybe thirty seconds in total before the cuff clattered to the floor. He did the same thing when Pete offered his other wrist, and finally, he was free for the first time in over four decades.
Andy pursed his lips. 'Free' was a relative term, in this case.
Pete didn't move for a couple moments, instead staring at his hands. Andy swept his flashlight around the room again, trying to give him a minute to process.
"May I…" Pete trailed off.
Andy just nodded. He figured that pretty much anything Pete asked he would probably say yes to. And, he wasn't sure he trusted his voice right now.
The vampire stood up slowly, carefully. Like he was afraid Andy would do something if he moved too suddenly. He probably was afraid Andy would do something. The doctors had not been very kind.
Once he was up, he approached. Cautiously. Andy realized that they were about the same height. Pete was wearing the same standard clothes any other asylum patient would wear, white and nondescript. Andy just stood still, very conscious about what was happening.
Pete reached out, slowly, and touched Andy's arm.
It took everything in Andy not to move, trying his best to stay in one place while the vampire slowly grazed down the fabric of his jacket. It was quiet for a moment.
"Why does your coat say 'Slayer' on it?" Pete asked, voice soft.
"Oh, uh." Andy paused. "It's a band. Music."
That didn't seem to really make Pete any more comfortable.
"I- did you want to come home with me?" Andy blurted out.
He'd thought about it, in the abstract. When he was reading the files.
The vampire let his hand drop. "I don't think that would be a good idea. I tend to get… hungry."
Andy felt his cheeks burn. Yeah, keeping a vampire in his apartment probably wasn't one of his greatest ideas. Wasn't one of his worst, though.
"What if…" Andy could feel himself cooking up an even better plan. "What if I brought home to you?"
Pete gave him a confused look.
"What if I turned this place into a home? I'm not, like, explaining this right." Andy sighed. He wanted to help this guy. "Like, what if I brought in a generator, got some lights going, maybe a fridge for blood storage, couches, a TV, that kind of thing. Would you want that?"
Pete blinked, and nodded slowly, like he was unsure. Andy figured he was allowed to be unsure.
"Well, then. I'll show up tomorrow with some things. You'll still be here?"
The vampire just kept nodding.
Andy grinned. Beacon Mental Hospital was his best project yet.
"Earth to Andy? Hello?"
Andy jumped, shocked out of his reminiscence by someone snapping their fingers in his face.
"Dude, you're not allowed to space out yet. I haven't even hit play!" Pete complained, looking offended.
"I- uh- sorry?" Andy blinked, shaking himself back into the present day. The title menu for Terminator: Salvation was playing, TV loud, just like Pete liked it.
The vampire grinned. "You better be. I'm gonna be on your ass for the next two hours if you keep this up."
Andy just sighed.
Pete smiled wider. "Get ready for the best extra three minutes of your life."
"I'm ready."
With that, Pete hit play, and Andy settled in for movie night with his vampire.