*****

"Forgive me, father, for I have sinned." The voice on the far side of the screen was not familiar. Its accent was educated American. That was not unusual, though, in the tiny church near the docks of Bristol. "It has been fifteen years since my last confession," the voice continued.

Uh-oh. Not a casual stop by a devout sea captain, then.

"What brings you here today, then?" the priest asked, striving to control his own working class accent for the American's benefit.

"I killed a child last night. I've killed... several children. And adults. But this one reminded me of someone, and... I guess that's mainly it. I killed a child."

No, not a casual stop, by any means. The priest took a deep breath.

"Were there any extenuating circumstances?"

"I... I guess. You see, I'm a vampire."

A lunatic. Some poor deluded soul in need of a keeper. Not in need of the pitiful British asylums, though. Better....

"You're a vampire. But you accept the authority of the church?"

"If you're a vampire, you know about Hell."

"But do you know about God? Will you do as I say, for the good of your own soul?"

"How did you know I had a soul?"

Right. No soul. He thinks he's a vampire.

"You're here, aren't you? You didn't come in here just to look at the stained glass. You've got a soul, and it's in pain. Will you let me help you?"

"I guess that's why I came."

"Good. I'd like you to undertake a retreat at a religious house here in Bristol. Are you willing to do that?"

"When?"

"I could take you there now."

"That... that would be good."

"Well enough. Come and pray for a few moments while I get someone to take my place, and we're away." He stepped out of the confessional. The other didn't move. "Come along then," the priest said. "You'll see. It'll be all right."

There was motion behind the curtain, and a man stepped out. He was taller than the priest and about twice as wide, solid with muscle, and all topped off with the sort of handsome face and curly black hair that brought the serving maids into the confessional by the droves. Well enough he was to be away from here, if he was unbalanced.

"You have a rosary?" the priest asked him.

"No, I...."

"Use mine." He plucked the beads from his cassock and pressed them into the other's cool hand. The rosary clattered to the floor as the man howled in pain.

"What is it?"

The man held out his hand, where the outline of the crucifix now flamed angry red and the skin was pulling away in a cross-shaped blister.

"I told you," he gasped. "I'm a vampire."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"They tell me you've been killing rats," he said to the vampire when he visited.

"Is that a problem for them?" Angelus asked. That was his name: Angelus. That was an irony for you. Or perhaps it wasn't. The priest could imagine the misery of a fallen angel being close to what he saw on this man's face. Ah, well, back to the rats, or else the abbot was going to turn poor Angelus over to the asylum after all.

"They're a bit disturbed about you biting the heads off and drinking the blood, is all."

"You told me I shouldn't kill people."

"God says you shouldn't kill people. I'm just the messenger."

"Then why did God allow me to be made into what I am? And why did he let that gypsy curse me with a soul?"

"Was it done of your own will? The vampire thing, I mean."

"No."

"Then it was God's will for you."

"God did not choose for me to be a vampire!"

"You know, when I took Holy Orders, I chose to be called Peter. Do you know why?"

"Because Peter was the most important?"

"No. Because he tried to walk away from his destiny, until he met God on the road. You know this story?"

"I'm not Catholic."

He wasn't Catholic. The church was putting itself to incredible trouble, and he wasn't one of them....

"As he was fleeing the Romans, St. Peter met Jesus on the road going in the opposite direction and asked him where he was headed. Jesus told him He was going to Rome to be martyred in Peter's place, since Peter couldn't be bothered. The point is, sometimes you have to take your lumps and let God get on with whatever He has planned. God decides. We obey."

"You didn't want to be a priest?"

This was not going well. "Not really. But I wanted to do what God had planned for me, and this was it."

"If he meant for you to be a vampire, would you just accept it?"

"That is not my vocation. It's your affliction, and we have to find a way for you to deal with it."

"There's no escaping fate, Father."

"Maybe not, but you've got to stop it with the rats, at least in front of the brothers. All right?"

He said all right, but Peter didn't truly believe him. That night he slept fitfully, awakening often to the sound of leathery wings on the wind outside his window.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Father Peter's nightmares went on for three nights. The fourth he watched in the monastery chapel. As dawn approached, he climbed up to Angelus's empty room and sat down to wait.

"Priest," came the voice at the window.

"Vampire," Peter answered. "What have you done tonight?"

"I fed."

"I can imagine. I was called to see the body of one of your kills." It had been a young woman, small, blond hair streaming over pale shoulders, belly just slightly rounded with early pregnancy.

"You said to leave the rats alone. Am I meant to live on air?"

"No. No. Tell me, can you feed, and leave the... victim alive?"

"And leave a living witness? Priest, you are more naive than I thought."

"Can you do it, Angelus?"

"I could."

"Then do it." Peter stripped away the clerical collar, baring his neck.

"From you?"

"Freely given, as an act of charity. I will feed you, whenever you wish."

"You are mad."

"Perhaps, but I started this, and I mean to finish it."

"You do, don't you? You think you can stand up to the devil and all his angels and lead me back into heaven? Well, you're wrong, priest! You're not that good! Matter of fact, you're purely evil, leading a soul to hope when there is no hope! You're evil!"

"Call me any name you like, Angelus, but take what I have to offer, and leave the world in peace."

"Oh, I'll take what you're offering, all right!" Peter felt himself swept up in the larger man's arms, and then one brief sharp pain at the base of his neck, and then only mounting waves of ecstasy.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Peter woke lying on cold stone, with Angelus's cold body pressed against his back. He sat up.

He was naked.

"Angelus?"

"Priest."

"Where are we?"

"Crypt under the abbey. No one comes here any more."

"This wasn't part of the deal."

"There is no deal. You don't make deals with the devil."

"You aren't the devil. Angelus, where are my clothes?"

"You're not going to need them, any more."

"What are you on about? I've got to get out of here!"

"No."

Peter stopped dead. His body wouldn't move at all. Angelus grinned.

"You're not dead, yet, if that's what you're worried about. You're not going to be dead for some little time."

"Dead?"

"Right, priest. Dead like me. First, though, I'm going to convince you of something. I'm going to make you admit that you're evil."

"I am not evil. I am a sinner, redeemed by the grace of God, but...."

"You're evil. Say it!"

"I am not evil!"

"I'll prove it to you, then. Down. Down on your knees."

Peter's knees fell out from under him, and he was kneeling in front of Angelus.

"That's one of the side effects of being bitten," Angelus told him. "You have no will of your own. Now," he said, rising to his feet and coming to stand in front of Peter, "suck this." He held his penis to Peter's lips.

"I'm a priest!"

"You're mine, and you're evil, and you want this, don't you?"

Peter felt the urge, even knowing it was his response to Angelus's suggestion. He felt himself about to speak, and to stifle it, he took Angelus's cock in his mouth.

It wasn't so bad, actually. The vampire took Peter's head in his hands and pumped vigorously, and then spewed gobs of liquid in Peter's mouth.

"This is what you are," Angelus told him. "You are my slave, the toy of my whim, until I choose to drain you dry. And you're evil. Say it! You're evil!"

"I am not evil!"

"Then why were you enjoying what we just did?" He touched his toe to the erection sprouting from Peter's crotch. "What does the church say you should do about one of those, priest?"

"Will power."

"But your will is mine! And I 'will'...." Angelus sat down on the bier and tugged at Peter's hand. "...this!" He pulled the younger man into his lap, facing forward, and spread the cheeks of his ass. "You...," he said, pressing his still-hard cock against Peter's ass, "...are...," plunging it into the other man's body, "...evil!" Wrapping his thumb and forefinger around the head of Peter's cock, Angelus tugged it until a drop of clear liquid formed at the very tip. "Your desire is my desire, and you are evil! Say it!"

"No!" It was not Peter. It was someone else, some other will moving his body up and down on that glorious icy cock. Someone else's hand closed over Angelus's and urged it faster. It was not Peter.

"Say it!" Angelus's hands grasped Peter's hips and started fucking him with long hard strokes. "Say it! You know it's so!"

"I am not evil!" Peter gasped. Again Angelus's hand wrapped around his cock, this time near the base, and squeezed.

"You want to come? You want to come with me fucking you like a girl? Huh? You wanna come, don't you?"

And suddenly Peter did, more than anything in the world. His hands closed over his own tender manhood as Angelus's filled his ass once more, and all motion stopped.

"You want to come? Huh? Say it!"

"I want to. Please, just let me...."

"Evil! Say it!"

"All right! All right, I'm evil!" And it was true. Peter felt it in his bones, felt it in the rush of hot liquid that spilled from his cock, felt it in Angelus's twitching rod buried deep in his ass and spurting come like a geyser, felt it most of all in Angelus's fangs sinking into his neck. It was glorious, so much so that he heard himself screaming with the sheer beauty of it until a cold hand fastened over his mouth.

He couldn't help himself. His mind was flooded with orgasm, and his jaws went on instinct. He sank his teeth into Angelus's hand.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

When the spasms of the change had abated, he found himself on the floor of the crypt. Angelus was sitting beside him, leaning against the bier.

"You really do take the cake, priest. You know that? You actually surprised me. But your will is still mine."

"What use have you got for my will?"

"Let me hear you say it again. Come on, the 'E' word!"

"I'm evil."

"Damned right, you are. And I think you're the best buttfuck I've had in decades. I'm going to have to keep you around for a while."

"How nice."

"Oh, it will be. But I don't think we should call you Peter anymore. It's not God's will, anymore, is it? It's mine."

Peter didn't really want to argue. He was busy considering this new hunger that was not a hunger that tempted him out into the night.

"What do you want to call me?"

"Oh, has all the fight gone out of you? What a precious pet you'll make! We'll have to get you a collar and chain! Yeah, and I think I'm going to call you... Spike."

The End