Disclaimer: The following story is a work of fiction. The author does not own any of the following names or personalities. The author does not imply that the people mentioned within would act or have acted in the ways depicted. No money has been made from this.

******

I'm going to be up front with you. This is how it happened: I was trying to score some smack in the alley behind our shitty apartment building. Steven told me he needed it real bad. Real, real bad. His regular guy still wasn't answering the phone. "Please, Slash," he begged. His hands shook as he fumbled for the bills in his wallet.

"Fine, Steven, fine. Fine. I'll be back as soon as I can."

The guy on the street--the dealer-- seemed to know just what I wanted. We ducked into the trash-strewn alley, where he offered me a baggy. "Thanks, man," I said. Handing him the money. Nodding at him. Turning.

"Wait," he said. His hand on my shoulder. Cold through my t-shirt.

I didn't realize what was happening until his teeth were at my neck. Puncturing my skin. He started sucking my blood into his mouth. It's still hard to describe out loud, even though I've thought about what happened probably a million times. One second his hand was on my shoulder, the next his arm was around me, pinning my arms to my sides, pulling me against him. His incredibly strong arm. I tried to jerk away. I felt disgusted, more than anything. I'd been mugged before, but never like this. But I couldn't move.

Within seconds it started to feel good-- like when a chick or the occasional dude would give me a hickey. It made me sicker that it actually felt good. But I still couldn't pull away. Everything was starting to go fuzzy. I felt the cold brick of the apartment building against the back of my head. And then, nothing. I was out so fast, I didn't even have time to think about whether or not I was about to die.

When I woke up, I was cold. I reached into my pockets to make sure I still had the drugs. Some fucker just bit me in an alley, but I was checking to make sure I still had Steven's smack. Shit, what did that say about me? After I felt that the baggy was still tucked in my pocket, I brushed my fingers over the spot where the dealer bit me, but I didn't feel anything. It didn't even hurt. I thought about dropping the heroin off and going down to the clinic. But at this time of night, it was probably closed. I stood up and dusted myself off. I felt a little dizzy, was all.

When I got back inside, Steven was curled under a blanket. Shaking. Sweating. "Slash! What took you so long? Where were you?"

"Um," I said. Tossed the baggy toward Steven. It landed on his chest. "Some guy jumped me." I touched my neck. Looked at Steven. "He knocked me out," I said. I felt weird thinking about the biting. I couldn't tell Steven. Or the people at the clinic, for that matter. I could just imagine the raised eyebrow of some holier-than-thou nurse, some buttoned-up bitch who thought, just because I had long hair and these tattered old t-shirts and jeans for clothes, that I was some sort of-

"Thank you, Slash. Really. Come here." Steven patted the blanket beside him. He was already preparing to shoot up. His eyes sparkled when they met mine.

I joined him on the blanket. "You okay?" He asked. Steven was my best friend. If I couldn't tell him what happened, who could I tell? On the other hand, what if this guy had some kind of disease? I really did need to go to the clinic.

*

I went to the clinic the next day. The nurse didn't believe I'd actually gotten jumped in an alley-- I could tell by the look on her face. But I couldn't really blame her. I didn't have any bruises or scratches, and the bite marks were almost gone. She gave me some shots of something and ran the blood tests and shit anyway, though, and they came back clean. Told me I would need more tests in six months, just in case.

Bit the bullet again. I felt relieved. I decided to swing past the grocery store on my way home so I could visit my girlfriend and get the guys something to eat. I was feeling generous.

My girlfriend's name was Sharla. She wasn't much to look at, or much to talk to, but the sex was good. She also got us free food. When I brought her over to the apartment, the guys were all pretty friendly to her, except for Axl. He always ate the food she gave us, though, so I told him to keep his trap shut. I wouldn't have been surprised if Axl had decided he was going to provide his own food. Stubborn fucker. Shoplifting might have been fine for bands back in the old days, but now it was too risky, what with security cameras and sensors and all that shit.

As it happened, Sharla was on a break when I got to the store. She pulled me around the corner of the building and kissed me, twining her fingers through my hair, pulling me tight against her body. When she pulled away, her eyes sparkled. "Busy tonight?"

I grinned. "Yeah, tonight I gotta fuck you through the mattress."

She laughed, pulled my head down to kiss me again. Her teeth scraped over my bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood. "That better be a promise."

My cock hardened a little at the taste of the blood. "You bet it is."

*

I made dinner for the rest of the guys when I got home-- threw some hot dogs in a pan, opened a can of condensed soup. It was better than what we usually ate. Even Axl was appreciative. "Thanks, man," he said to me as I loaded our mismatched dishes into the sink. He squeezed my shoulder and leaned his body against mine for a second. I think it was supposed to be a hug.

"No problem," I replied, staring at a roach that had just crawled out of the drain.

"So, what are you up to tonight?"

"Date with Sharla."

"Oh." I glanced at Axl quick enough to catch his frown. "Well, have fun then." He patted my shoulder one last time and split.

Fuck the dishes, I decided. Duff or someone could do them. I went upstairs and changed my shirt, came back down just in time to catch Sharla knocking on the door. She grabbed my hand and pulled me into the hallway.

"Let's go."

I dragged my feet behind her, watched the way her ass bounced as she walked. Things had been a little strained between us lately, but at least she had been in a good mood at the store earlier. A good fuck was probably what we needed. She was always nicer to me after a good fuck. I imagined plowing into her from behind. Pushing her face into the pillow. Listening to her muffled squeals. Biting her shoulder. Tearing into it. Feeling her struggle underneath me.

I snapped myself out of it. We liked it a little rough, but that was too much. Made me hard, though. And as much as I tried to push the thought down, it kept coming back to me. Came back to me with a vengeance once we got into the fucking.

Sharla screeched as I thrust into her for the last time and sunk my teeth into her shoulder. "Slash! Get off me! What the fuck are you doing?" Blood seeped from the ragged bite. She wriggled out from under me. "You fucking bit me! What the fuck?"

"I..."

"You what? In what parallel universe did that seem like a good idea? Shit." She touched the wound, glared at the blood on her fingers. Glared at me. "Get out."

"I..."

"Get. Out."

"I didn't mean to."

"Well, you fucking did it anyway, so get the fuck out!"

I yanked my pants back on. "I'm sorry."

"I don't know why the fuck I kept you around this long, anyway, you fucking freeloading, scraggly-ass son of a bitch." Sharla stomped off to the bathroom.

"Sharla, I'm really sorry. I want to make it up to you. Please..."

Sharla stuck her head around the corner and sneered at me. "You can make it up to me by getting the fuck out of my apartment and losing my phone number."

I sighed. So this was how it was going to be. I knew she'd been looking for an excuse to dump me. I pulled my t-shirt back on. "Fine. See ya, Sharla."

I made my way to the door. I could hear her shout from the bathroom, "No, you won't!"

I opened the door. "I'll see you at the fucking store!" I shouted back. Lame comeback, but whatever. An elderly woman in a nightgown glared at me as she passed by. I stormed out of the building.

*

When I got back to our apartment, I found Axl sitting at the kitchen table, head propped up on one hand, other hand tapping a pen against a sheet of paper. He looked up. "You're home early." He seemed as if he were waiting for an explanation.

"Yeah. Sharla and I broke up."

Axl arched an eyebrow.

I looked at the floor. Noticed I was standing on a dried tomato sauce splatter.

"Have a seat," Axl said. I pulled out a chair, wincing as it screeched against the linoleum. I plopped down and laid my head on my arm. Axl stared at me for a few seconds. "You can do better than her."

"Yeah, I know."

Axl's face fell for a millisecond, and then he smiled. Reached over and patted my shoulder. Brushed my hair away from my face. "I'm writing a new song," he said. "Wanna see?"

Axl reminded me of a little kid who got a new toy. "Sure." I managed to smile. Axl slid the paper toward me. I straightened up from my slouch. I was starting to get this weird ache in my back.

It was just a sheet of lyrics-- no music-- but they looked promising. "Nice."

Axl beamed. I started to hand the paper back to him, but a sharp pain near my shoulder blade made my arm drop back to the table.

"Slash? You okay?"

I gritted my teeth. "Yeah, I'm fine, I think. Musta pulled a muscle or something in my back."

Axl stood up. "Where?"

"Under the left shoulder blade."

Axl frowned and stepped behind me. I felt his fingers on my back a moment later. "Here?"

"Yeah." He applied some pressure. "Fuck." More pressure. "Shit."

"Hurt bad?"

"Yeah. Musta done it tonight while I was fucking Sharla."

Axl let up the pressure. "Duff is watching TV. I'm sure he'd be happy to give you a backrub."

I put my head back down on the table. I heard Axl's footsteps behind me, then the sink running water.

"I'm going to bed, Slash. Get Duff to work on that." His footsteps faded away.

*

I hauled myself to my feet. My back protested the entire time. I hobbled into the "living room," a tiny, trash-strewn nook with a TV. Duff was watching Benny Hill, can of Pepsi balanced on his knee. He turned his head.

"Hey, Slash."

"Hey."

"What's up?"

"Backrub?"

"Sure, dude. Sit down." Duff nestled the Pepsi can into the carpet and spread his knees apart. I lowered myself down in front of him. "So, what'd you do?"

"I dunno. It just started hurting a few minutes ago." I pointed out the sore spots. My right side was starting to hurt, too.

Duff prodded the area with his fingertips. "Feels kinda warm. Weird." I winced. Even though he was just using his fingertips, it still hurt like a bitch. "Yeah. Really hard and warm." I could imagine Duff's face scrunched up in concentration.

He covered my upper back in light, smooth strokes until his program was over. It was feeling a little better already. "You wanna lie down, dude? I can do it better that way."

I looked at the carpet. Contents of a spilled ashtray. Dried, ground-in spaghetti. "I don't think so, man."

Duff chuckled. "Yeah... let's get you to your bed."

We climbed the stairs in silence, careful not to wake Axl. He could really pitch a fit if you woke him up.

I turned the doorknob to my room. Even that motion sent a series of sharp pains down my back. I was really starting to get worried. It felt hot and tingly, and there was this weird, pulsating ache whether I moved or not. What was that disease you got that gave you muscle soreness? Meningitis or some shit? What if the people at the clinic fucked up? I was starting to sweat.

My knees bumped against the edge of the bed. I felt Duff's fingers at my waist, lifting the hem of my t-shirt. "Arms up," he said.

I lifted my arms. They felt about twenty times heavier, like they were going to rip off at the shoulder. Tears came to my eyes. Duff whisked the t-shirt off.

"Holy shit," he whispered. "What did you do?"

I gritted my teeth. "What is it?"

"All these fucking bruises, man."

"I don't know." I flopped forward on the bed.

"Um, I don't know if I should really rub that. Maybe you need an ice pack or something." I heard the soft shuffle of his sneakers against the hardwood floor.

"No, Duff... please. It felt good when you rubbed it before."

"Okay." His fingers brushed over my bare skin. I winced. "Okay." He applied a slight pressure. I gave an involuntary grunt into the bedspread. "Slash... fuck. Your back looks... this is really fucked up, dude. It looks like something is fucking moving around in there."

I lifted my head. "What?"

"It looks like there's some thing sliding around under your skin."

I pulled myself up into a sitting position so I could look Duff in the eye. "Answer me honestly, man. Did you drop acid?"

"No!" Duff shook his head violently. "No, man. Your back is real fucked up. I'm serious. You should probably go to the hospital."

"I don't need to go to the hospital."

"Are you sure you're not fucked up right now? How could you not remember doing something like that to your damn back?" Duff's face was turning red.

"Calm down, man. Doesn't Izzy have a little make-up mirror around here somewhere?" I pushed off of the bed and took a step toward the dresser.

That's when it happened. I felt a pain so hot and sharp in my back that it doubled me over. My knees and elbows hit the floor. Duff said, "Oh my God." I was sure I was going to pass out. It felt like the skin on my back was being torn away. "Slash," Duff said. I felt wetness. And then nothing.

When I came to, I was laying face-down on the floor. I pushed up onto my elbows and wriggled forward. My stomach slid across a wet patch of floor. I heard Duff's voice again, but he sounded far away. "Slash?"

"Yeah," I croaked.

"Fuck." I heard shuffling behind me. "Are you..." Duff started to giggle. "Of course you're not okay. You're fucking... you have, like, fucking bat wings." Duff's giggle turned louder, more high-pitched.

"I... what?" I sat up. No more pain. I stretched my arms. Reached behind my back. Felt... skin. Skin that shouldn't have been there. I turned to Duff. "Bat wings?"

Duff sat in the corner, wide-eyed, watching me move. "I thought maybe you were dead." The giggle again.

I got up and stepped into the bathroom. Looked in the mirror. Yeah, I did have wings. And I was covered in blood. Too fucking surreal. No wonder Duff was cracking up. It was funny. I never, ever believed in vampires. Not even when I was a kid.

*

I closed my eyes, but when I opened them again, I still had wings. I turned to Duff, who was leaning on the door frame looking sick. "What happened?"

"You collapsed. The skin on your back..." Duff grimaced. "Tore. Started bleeding everywhere. And then the wings..." Duff shook his head. "Sort of slithered out. And then after about a minute, you woke up."

I took a deep breath. It was just too fucking surreal. I half expected Duff to tell me Satan himself appeared and glued the motherfuckers to my back. But if nothing special happened when they came out, then maybe it wouldn't take anything special to make them go away.

"Alright, Duff, these have to go." I turned back to the mirror. Duff took a few steps toward me. I caught his gaze in the mirror as he lifted his hand toward my left wing. His fingertips grazed the skin there, and I shivered. My wings spread out slowly under Duff's touch, until they had unfurled completely. I swallowed and realized I was still staring into the reflection of Duff's wide, wide eyes. I broke his gaze to look down at myself. Obvious hard-on. Duff pressed his whole palm against my wing, and I could feel his throbbing pulse. His whole body was radiating life and warmth and I needed to be closer to him.

In one swift motion, Duff had me pinned to the wall with the length of his body. His breath was hot on my ear. "Slash, what's happening?"

I slid my fingers into his belt loops and pulled his hips against mine. "I don't know."

Duff's lips pressed against my neck. I looked down at the blood-- my blood-- smeared on Duff's arm. Suddenly, I wanted to rip his long, sinewy body apart. With my teeth. With my cock. I pushed him away. His hand reached for my crotch. I batted it away. "Duff, no. We can't." I grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him toward the mirror. He leaned forward and braced himself on the sink, taking a few sharp-sounding breaths.

"I'm sorry, dude. I don't know what got into me. It was like... I don't know, man. It was like I couldn't control myself."

"It's okay."

"What are you, man? What the fuck happened to you?"

"I don't know. The other day..."

"Yeah?"

"The other day, I got attacked in the alley out back. Some guy actually bit me. I went to the clinic, and they told me nothing was up, but maybe..."

Duff laughed. It was a harsh, barking laugh. "What, are you a vampire?"

"Fuck. Fuck. Maybe. I don't know."

Duff was silent for a long time, staring down into the sink. And then he crossed himself.

I had to get rid of the wings. I had to. There was no way I could walk around with them. There was just no way I could live like this. Panic rose in my throat, made my chest feel tight. They had to go.

And that was all it took. I watched in the mirror as my wings relaxed, shriveled, faded away. Disappeared. But I could feel this energy, this weird, concentrated ball of energy inside me now. Duff whirled around. I shrugged.

Duff's eyes darted around the room, as if the wings might be lurking in the bathtub. "What if they come back?"

"I don't think they will. I think... I think I can control them." Duff opened his mouth, then shut it again. "Let's clean up the blood in the other room."

Duff nodded and reached for a grimy, hand-me-down towel.

*

I had to get away from Duff. He kept asking me a million what-if questions after I got out of the shower, looking at me with wide eyes, and it was making me crazy. I didn't know where the fucking wings came from or what the fuck I was or what was going to happen. And it was getting really tiresome to have to keep reassuring him that everything was going to be okay when I didn't even know if I believed it myself.

"What if you really are a vampire? Will you have to bite people? What will you do? What do vampires do? What if you have to stay out of the sun? How will we get to gigs? Do you think you have any special, freaky powers?"

"What if you don't show up on film?"

"Duff." I gave his forearm a squeeze. "It'll be okay. I'm going to go for a walk."

Duff sighed and bent over, covered the pile of bloody towels with a trash bag, and scooped them up. "I'd feel better if you stayed here. Look what happened--"

I cut him off. "Hey, I'll be alright. I just need to clear my head, okay?"

Duff's brow furrowed, but he nodded. He took the towels over to the crumpled wastebasket.

"And let's not talk about this, okay? I'd really like to feel normal again, you know?"

"Yeah." Duff nodded, stuffing the towels inside. "Okay, yeah. My lips are absolutely sealed."

I tried to smile, but the panic was rushing through my body. What would happen if, or, probably more accurately, when the others found out? I was jumping out of my skin. Smiling, talking, breathing-- all of it felt unnatural and excruciating. The room had too many colors, and my head was starting to throb. I kept my eyes on the floor and watched Duff's boots come closer to me.

Duff grabbed my elbow. "Just be careful, okay?" He looked like he wanted to say something more, but instead he slid his other arm around my waist and hugged me. "Your back hurt anymore?" Duff murmured against my ear.

"No. It's good now. It's okay." I tried to step out of the hug. He stepped with me, sliding his arm up from my waist and across my back.

"If something happens to you..." Duff squeezed me. "Nothing can happen to you, okay?"

I tried to take a deep breath. "I'll be okay. This stuff will all sort itself out."

Duff let me go. Pulled his bottom lip under his teeth. "I'm gonna go... I guess I'll go to bed, then. When you come back, will you, uh, wake me?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

Again, Duff looked like he wanted to speak, but instead he just smiled. "See you later, then." He snatched his Pepsi can off of the dresser and backed out of the room, still smiling. I wasn't fooled. He was scared shitless.

So was I.

*

A few restless days went by, filled with uncertainty and adrenaline. I was nervous and jittery all the time, waiting for the next fucked-up thing to happen to me. What was next? Horns? Fangs? Claws? Or maybe I was about to drop dead. I didn't know.

I thought I had the wings under control, but my back started keeping me awake at night. My muscles ached, my joints ached, and when I moved my arms and shoulders, there was this burning sensation in my shoulder blades. I somehow managed to play, somehow managed to ignore the grind of my guitar strap and the weight of my guitar. But in bed at night, it was hell. Sometimes I cried. Sometimes I drank until I passed out.

Duff started giving me back rubs every day. It helped just feeling his hands against my skin. Warm, strong, callused hands. At first, the back rubs took the pain away. Made me sleep easier. Duff would lie down and sleep beside me sometimes, afterward. He was afraid to leave me alone. But after awhile, I could only stand the lightest touch. The pain got so bad that I was doing heroin every day.

Duff didn't say much, but I could tell how worried he was by the way his eyes crinkled when he looked at me. He was my best friend, but sometimes you have problems so big and complicated, they're totally your own.

Like the cravings. I knew what it was like to be jonesing for dope. I knew what it was like to be driven down into the bottle. But this was different. This was starvation. This was primal and pure and instinctual. Between the aching in my back and the aching in the pit of my stomach, I never got any sleep. I got pale. My eyes got puffy and purple underneath. I looked like the walking dead. I wondered sometimes if I was dying, but it was an idle thought. Like watching a movie. I didn't have to wonder if I was losing my mind. I knew that for sure.

But everything changed the day Axl and Izzy smuggled some t-bone steaks out of the supermarket in their jackets. As soon as Axl dumped them on the counter, I knew what I had been craving. I only let him cook mine a little bit. If it wouldn't have freaked everyone out, I would have eaten it straight out of the package. It was such a relief. The desert I'd been crawling across for the last few weeks had given way to an oasis. That day, I stopped doubting it. I was a vampire.

*

TBC