How Not to Vampire - Season 2

1. Death and All Her Friends

Pro-tip for Vampires #12:  Dying isn't permanent, but damn, it still hurts like a sonofabitch.

Death was a lot like floating in a warm weightless cocoon with the most expensive drugs flooding my system and keeping me very happy. It was a permanent state of bliss and even included the pleasant voice of a woman talking to me, saying soothing things like:

"—no reason to panic. You are safe here, receiving the finest care from our team of trained professionals. Remember: as a vampire, death is something that happens to other people."

I never wanted it to end.

So when the drugs started to wear off, and I realized I wasn't in my cocoon anymore, and that the nice lady had stopped murmuring pleasant and reaffirming vampire thoughts to me, I was a little bit annoyed, but not too much because those were still some damn good drugs man.

It was the slap across the face that brought me back to reality, and my eyes tried to flutter open in protest. It was almost like being born, except the slap was across my face instead of my ass. I had intended to tell off the asshole who was rudely smacking the shit out of me, after all, there was no need for that, plenty of drugs for everybody, just lay back and relax and, by the way: put me back in the cocoon--

SMACK!

My eyes flew open this time, a surge of adrenaline totally ruining my buzz, and goddamn it was annoying. But then I saw Claude's beautiful scruffy and, most of all, familiar face, and I forgot all about being angry. I suppose I should have been shocked as shit to see my best friend of over twenty-years leaning over me, his rugged and heroic face creased with concern. He had the kind of prince charming good looks that made most women reconsider their marriage vows, and the personality and charm to go with it, but at that moment, he just looked worried about me.

"Hey, buddy," I said, aware that I sounded as high as I felt and smiled loopily. "I think I was dead," I confided in him, then whispered loudly: "Are you here to rescue me? Am I a princess?" I found this hilarious, but Claude wasn't laughing with me.

"It's okay, dude," Claude said as he extracted the rubber breathing apparatus from my nostrils. "Please don't try to talk right now... they pumped you full of drugs to help with your recovery, and you're only going to be spouting nonsense that I will have to tease you about mercilessly in the future--"

I realized that I was naked. "Welp, that does it. I can't be a princess," I nodded philosophically. "I don't even have a gown."

"See what I mean?" Claude sighed deeply. "Come on, let's get you out of there--"

"Nononono, I like it here," I complained, feebly reaching for the breathing apparatus which Claude held out of reach. Bastard. I smiled and offered a perfectly reasonable compromise. "Tell ya what? Let me go back under, and you can rescue me in an hour, okay?" Holy shit, I sounded drunk, but it was a good drunk, right? My head finally cleared enough for me to notice that Claude seemed to be dressed in white, like some kind of lab technician. "Why are you dressed like a lab geek-nerd-type dude guy?"

"Funny story," Claude said, acting very much like the highly-trained lab tech as he pushed some buttons on a panel. Did he even know what he was doing? "We're gonna laugh about this later, but I'm actually here on a job." He held up a very official-looking ID Badge that hung on the lanyard around his neck. It even had his photo on it. "I'm a lab tech on assignment from New York," he said intently, "and this is the first time you and I are meeting. You can call me John."

I peered at the embroidered name tag on his lab coat that read 'JOHN P. SMITH,' thought about asking, decided that I wasn't going to ask, and then forgot what I was going to ask him. Damn good drugs. I grinned and gave "John" a sloppy wink and the thumbs up.