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Home's Return by wickedpurrz

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Disclaimer:All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Home Sweet Home #3 It has been twenty years since Poe and Laddie lost the boys and finally things are coming in line to bring them back but something unexpected threatens to take what they regain.
Pairing: No set pairings as usual though this fic will likely have male/male sex scenes as well as male/female and some definate group fun!
Feedback: love the feedback, it keeps me writing! Constructive criticism is appreciated. =]
Author's Notes: This is the last part in the trilogy and hell I don't even know everything that happens yet! Warnings are a just in case thing for now. =]
Author's Chapter Notes:
Is it just me or are my chapters getting shorter? o.O Anyway I've decided, well, my muse and I decided that we will be updating this every Saturday, which gives me time to putter around with another project and still get some work done on this without fussing about it. I hope that's convenient for everyone and you like having a schedule rather then the random updates from before. =]
The shrill ring of the house telephone pierced the quiet enjoyed by the figure on the dark suede lounge. He put his book down with an annoyed sigh, uncoiling his long lanky legs to pick up the handset on the other side of the room. His greeting was curt, the displeasure at the call very plain.

“Y-yes, is this the residence of Lenore and Lattimer Rooke? I'm Alfred Benton, the solicitor of Jane Madison Frog.”

“This is Lattimer Rooke, so yeah, you have the right number. What can I do for you, Mr. Benton?”

His frown of irritation turned to confusion and then fell into an expression of stunned sorrow as the man continued to speak. Ten minutes later he replaced the handset on it's charger thankful he'd sat down in the closest chair. Tears slipped down his cheeks before he could stop them, more coming as he wiped them away. He shoved to his feet in frustration, using the neck of his shirt to dry his face as he left the small library.

Lattimer Paul Rooke, once Paul Lattimer Jamison hated bad news. He hated getting it and he most especially hated to give it. It was the absolute worst to relay it to Poe. She had been an exceptionally caring, if haunted mother to him as he grew up under Nana Jane's roof. Though at some point in the last decade she had stopped taking care of him and he had started taking care of her. She did try to take bad news in stride, letting it slide away like water off a duck, at least on the surface. He could usually see every negative turn events adding to the weight behind her near black eyes.

It left him at grown a man of thirty hovering outside of her bedroom door at two in the afternoon wishing the call had never happened and that they actually made vampire strength antidepressants. This would be her second piece of shit news this month and it was only the fifth. She hadn't left her secluded part of the house since the last bit, spending the four days since in bed with the lights off. Her voice startled him out of his daze, calling from the other side of the door.

“Come in already, Laddie. I can feel you hovering out there not to mention hear you breathing.”

He shook his head, pushing the door open with more then a little chagrin. Poe was sitting at her desk in the connecting study to the right of her bedroom. The back of her chair and head were all he could see through the doorway and he felt relief lift some of his guilt at having to hand out more bad news. She wasn't curled up in the bed with no light and her hair was pulled back into a simple braid instead of a mess of tangles. He paused for a moment to watch her as she wrote who knew what in one of her endless notebooks. Sometimes it was a shock to see her the same when he had become so different and other times it was a comfort, like today. He went to her, wrapping his arms around her slender shoulders from behind. She reached up to stroke at his hair like she always did, leaning into the embrace.

“So, who was that on the phone?”

“You heard it all the way in here?”

“If the house is quiet enough I can hear clear to the kitchen. How was your . . .” She sniffed deeply. “Cup of Earl Grey?”

She turned to look at him then, her smile slipping at the pained look in his eyes. She looked back down at her notebooks and bit her lip. The next moment she was out of her chair making a bid to beat him to her bathroom. His foot stopped the slam of the door and he grunted in pain. This was not going as well as he hoped.

“No, do you hear me? No! No bad news! Not today, please. Please, Laddie. Can't I have some time with the last one before Fate shoves another at me?”

He bumped his head on the door not wanting to say it this way. “Not if we plan on making the funeral this Thursday.”

Her gasp echoed around her huge marbled bathroom and he heard her hit the floor so hard he winced. When she spoke her voice was rough with defeat. “Who?”

“It's Nana, Poe. That was her lawyer calling us for her funeral and her will reading.”

“Nana? I just . . . I just talked to her the other day. She was fine!”

“She was also ninety years old.”

“I should have turned her at Christmas like I wanted to!”

“Nana never wanted to be a vampire. She was waiting to join Grandpa, you know that. Now she finally has.”

“Oh, God, Laddie! Nana!”

She launched herself at him and he held her tight while her body shook. When she finally moved away her face was dry, her eyes slightly damp and dull. She hurt, he knew she did but she never cried anymore. Her tears had been reserved a long time ago, though he didn't think Nana would mind. She truly hated it when anyone cried around her, often proclaiming tears as a waste of hydration and threatening to take the crier out to water her azaleas .

“When do we have to leave?”

“The service is at six on Thursday. Her lawyer said she wanted it to be as close to sunset as she could have it. The will reading is at three on Friday.”

Poe nodded. “I wish she hadn't been so stubborn about moving here with us. I should have been there with her, she shouldn't have been alone.”

“She wasn't alone remember? Macy was with her.”

“Oh, no. Poor Macy.”

Macy Gillette was the nurse they had hired to live with Nana Jane after she broke her leg in the shower. Nana, in her eighties then, refused to leave her house to move in with them, finally accepting a live in nurse and a bathroom remodel at Poe's equally stubborn insistence. It took Nana six months to start calling Macy the best friend she ever had paid for. It was obvious that the quiet nurse who was about half Nana's age felt the same. She was the only reason Poe felt comfortable enough leaving California for the summer house in Washington state.

Laddie never ceased to find it funny that a boy who had once lived in dives of apartments or ate out of trash cans now had several luxury homes to choose from. There were two houses in California, one in Washington, a pair in England and Scotland, one in Australia, one in Italy and even one villa in Spain with it's own winery. All because of one obsessively frugal vampire who conveniently died. Max had taken his cues from his Sire and lived in the human world as much as possible, making investments in whatever looked promising that decade and the classic real estate ventures. Five hundred years of smart business and his line were left billionaires.

Who knew there were banks and law offices in the world run for and by immortal beings? That these law offices also specialized in creating new identifications for the long lived as they needed them? The number of the offices had been in Max's papers with a note for his Childe that in the event of his demise he was to call them and have the monies transferred to the new Head Vampire or Custos Matris respectively. The manipulating asshole had done one thing right by his line at least.

Poe had been ecstatic, her worries over supporting him on her own wiped away. Four vampires had made enough kills and wallet grabs to keep Laddie fed, if not decently, yet a single vampire who fed as infrequently as Poe had little hope of managing it sufficiently. It was why she had decided to take him to her grandmother's house. Nana Jane had enough to care for the growing boy with no problems and since Poe didn't have to eat human food unless she wanted to it had been only one extra mouth to feed. In the end it was simply Nana's ability to live in the daytime world rather then feeding or clothing Laddie that made her home the place to spend the rest of his childhood. Which had been as average as he had allowed Poe to make it.

“You know on the way back we could stop - ”


“Poe, it's been twenty years, you can't stay in town long enough so I can visit them? You don't have to see or even talk to either one of them and someone needs to check out the house anyway. The decorator said it's all set up the way you specified but you haven't even looked at any of it.”

“It's their house, I built it for them and as long as it's how I said I wanted it, I don't need to see it.”

“You think they'll want it if there is nothing of you in it?”

“I don't want to go to Santa Carla and I really don't want to go now! You know why.”

“She wasn't the only necromancer on earth! We'll find another one and get them back, you'll see that. When we do you are going to want that house perfect.”

“It took fifteen years to find her and another five to get her to trust us enough to consider the spell. I don't think I have another twenty year wait in me, Laddie.”

“Poe.” He gave her his best begging face and even though he wasn't ten any longer it worked like a charm. “Please?”

She growled. “Fine. One day, no longer!”

He gave her a tight hug that lasted several minutes. “I love you.”

Her sigh was soft against his neck. “I know.”

“I'll make the arrangements.”

Poe nodded and he finally let her out of the hug. She watched him leave the room, going to sit on her bed as the door clicked shut. Once she was alone her face shifted in pain, eyes golden, ivory fangs biting into her lip. A single bead of crimson welled up and she caught it on her fingertip. She stared down at her own blood, her useless blood that would never be enough.

The growl started low and then grew into a raging snarl. Her emotions boiled over and she screamed, throwing everything she could reach, the fabrics shredding under her claws. Pillows were massacred, silken cases wounded with their white stuffing bulging out, blankets and sheets meeting the same messy end. When there was nothing left in her reach to destroy she collapsed into the confetti of bed linens, arms cuddling her knees.

Hope that had been a fragile thing for years was suffering death throws inside her heart. It had been sheer chance that the teen she had saved from a trio of werewolves was the last in her family to possess the power over death. Poe had nursed the wounded girl back to health, giving her a place to rest and hide from the many supernatural things trying to kill her. The girl had been quite simply a danger magnet, her aura of black magic drawing in everything within a ten mile radius that would find her a tasty snack.

Four days ago she had left after a fight of epic proportions. The pink haired pistol had decided that she was not going to risk her life to resurrect three vampires she had never met, not for anyone. Poe hadn't heard from her since she left, leaving no note or number to all and without a necromancer the Vido Vuelto was just words on a page. Now not only were her boys beyond her reach yet again but she had lost her last loving tie to her old life. A return to Santa Carla and a funeral, why did that seem all too appropriate?
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