The snow still fell, in soft flurries of white that turned gray and black as they contacted the concrete. It piled in drifts of dirty sludge, like ashes pushed against the grates of a fireplace.

Yes, he thought. Exactly like ashes. Ashes in a charnel house.

Night had fallen long ago but the people still came. Came and stood, in a long winding line of humanity that suffered in the cold. Suffered and hoped and prayed and tried, with every fiber of their beings, to believe.

Belief. Had he believed? Had he believed, as he had stood on the steps of that great church, his hands outstretched to the rising dawn? Had he believed, as the fire touched him, burning through his veins, devouring flesh and life in a great inferno of pain? Had he truly believed in salvation, at that moment when the sun ignited preternatural flesh into an explosion of death?

Marius closed his eyes, shuddering, trying to swallow past the tightness of his throat. He didn't know. He never would know. And not knowing, somehow, was worse then anything else.

How had he looked, in those last moments? None of them knew. No one to witness. Oh, he had drawn the image of the hours before from the others' minds. But not of those final moments. No one would ever know that, either. But Marius could imagine it. Standing down there, arms out, face tilted to meet the first dim rays of light that had seared across the horizon. Long auburn hair, in a halo about his face as the sun touched it, illuminating it for one brief second in that glorious way that Marius could onl y envision, before burning it away. Had he closed his eyes? Or had he opened them, staring into the heart of the inferno, letting the fire sear those dark orbs, burn the nerves and tissue away, blister and blacken the flesh as it shot past the ruined sockets to pierce the brain beyond?

No. He couldn't continue to think of it. He couldn't envision that ruined face, the body in flames, crumbling to ashes that swirled away in the snow. Lips he had once kissed, a body he had held in his arms, a child he had lost his heart to, consumed in that final conflagration of destruction. No. He couldn't think of it. He would go mad if he did.

Tears tracked cold paths down his cheeks. He wiped them away with trembling fingers, numbly watching the drops of blood fall to stain the gray snow with small splotches of bright red. Ashes and blood and tears.

"Amadeo," he whispered.

Beside him, Daniel shivered in the chill wind and did not stir. No tears from him. He had cried before, cried and sobbed in Marius' arms until no more tears would come. He had lost just as much, maybe more. Lover, parent, teacher- all swept from him in one blow. His violet eyes, once so lovely, held the hollow glassy tinge of shock. He looked down to the church with no tears, only numb pain.

Thoughts of Daniel drew Marius away from his own pain. Thin skinned fledgling, shivering violently in the confines of his medium weight jacket, the blood in his veins too weak, yet, to shield him from the cold. Marius slipped out of his own long coat, setting it gently across Daniel's shoulders. The sweater he wore beneath would be enough to keep him from feeling the cold too keenly.

Daniel looked up, briefly, momentarily startled out of his reverie. He started to open his mouth but Marius shushed him gently. "No, take it. You need it more then I do."

"Won't you..."

"I'll be fine." Indeed, the cold outside was as nothing to the cold inside.

A bit awkwardly, Daniel drew the coat around himself, pale cold fingers knotted in the fur lined collar. The hem of the coat brushed the snow around his ankles. He turned back to the church. Impossible to know what went on beneath those violet eyes. Daniel had been taught well and when he wished to he could wall himself away, out of reach of a polite touch. And it would be unthinkable to attempt more then that.

Fragile little fledgling. Marius wanted to protect him in some way, shield him. Keep him safe from all of this. Safe from himself. He hadn't wanted to bring Daniel here, to let Daniel see this. And no, not to the church itself, not inside. Stay safe, out here, don't go and see. Don't let that thing within those walls change you as it changed the others. Marius studied Daniel, watching him, waiting for any flicker within those eyes that might herald the change. Please, keep him safe. Keep him sane.

He didn't know who he prayed to. Maybe it wasn't a prayer, just a feverent wish.

Changes. Too many changes, too fast. Amadeo. Marius trembled, but made himself think the name. Yes, Amadeo. And Mael after him, Mael, the rugged druid who had finally found something that could replace even Maharet in his heart. Had he looked into the sun at dawn? Gone with back straight, chin up, eyes unflinching? Yes. Marius could not see him any other way.

And others, young ones he had not known. And others yet to come, surely. He had seen it, and it made him fear. The glint in Pandora's eyes when he had told her, that little spark of animation that he had seen for an instant before it faded once again. The frown in Eric's brow, the indrawn look. And David, fierce strong David, the look in his eyes made Marius want to scream to the heavens. No, not David, not one so young, so full of life and yet wise beyond even his mortal years. Yet Marius had seen the g lint of change in his eyes. Had heard the longing in David's voice, the little thread within his throughts- yes, to stand there, to face the dawn as he faced it... Ah, no, not David. It would break Lestat's heart. And it would hurt Marius too, in a way he could not even bring himself to think of.

And not Daniel. Surely not Daniel. Child of this age, believer of nothing, surely not Daniel! But still Marius had been reluctant to bring him here. Better to keep him far away, keep him safe from ever having to make that choice. Daniel had begged, impassioned pleading, and Marius had given in.

"I want to go down there," Daniel said suddenly into the silence. A demand, not a request. A statement.

Tremor of fear. "All right." Marius would have taken his arm, helped to steady him on the slippery slush and ice, but Daniel didn't even notice his extended hand. Just walked past him, his eyes never leaving the church.

Oh, not Daniel. Please, not Daniel. Marius couldn't bear it.

And what did Marius feel about it? Not the grief, or the fear. What did he really feel about the thing within that church? He didn't know. Go see it, part of him whispered. Look at it, touch it, know the truth. But another part of him cried out at the idea. Leave! it told him. Leave, leave now, don't go, don't look...

The Veronica veil. The miracle. The holy relic that could bring salvation even to the damned. But only if you believed.

Marius couldn't believe. Not when belief had driven ones he loved so much into the fiery embrace of the sun.

They walked past the people, past the long patiently waiting lines, unwatched and unnoticed. Earthbound ghosts, yes. Little mental pushes- turn away, do not look, let us pass. And the mortals turned dull eyes away and did not look, not even when they sto od at the very steps of the church.

Pause. The calm within the eye of the storm. "Do you want to go in?" Marius asked softly.

Daniel looked up, tilting his head back to look at the walls of the church. Turning to let his gaze sweep over the steps, the people waiting there. "Yes."

Fear. Anticipation of pain, grief. He could not bring himself to speak. Taking Daniel's arm, holding it fast, he slowly climbed those stairs. Walking into the lion's den. Daniel in the lion's den. Was it faith, to put your head in the lion's jaw, or stupidity? Up the steps and through the doors, unseen by the priest who's sleeve they brushed, unremarked by the people they passed. Into the church.

Marius had no eye for the beauty of the church. He could not see it. He looked only to the termination of the line of people, the alcove near the alter where the crowd gathered in small groups under the watchful eyes of the priests. Yes. There. And Daniel had already seen it, was slowly pulling away from Marius to go there. With leaden movements Marius followed him.

So easy to just walk up, push gently into the group. Walk up and look at what others spent hours in line to view. Just walk up. Look at it. Would his death gain meaning from that? Would something there give retribution for the pain and grief?

Marius halted beside Daniel. And slowly, deliberately, looked.

For a long time he stared, eyes fixed, devouring the sight and imprinting it indelibly on his mind and retinas. Remember it, always. It drove him to his death.

A woven veil, of a quality he remembered. Yes, authentic. Mounted to the wall every so carefully in a frame. Face imprinted into the veil, mark of blood from the wounds, utterly perfect, like a photograph. Blaze of eyes, imagine the power. Face of Christ , the proof of the miracle.

Marius loathed it.

It shook him to the core, this hate. For this, Armand had walked into the dawn. For this, Lestat had suffered. And it wasn't worth a drop of either of their blood, not worth an ounce of their pain. Never. A thing, only a thing, nothing more. For this, Ar mand had died.

Daniel was beside him, eyes still locked to the veil. His jaw clenched, unclenched, his hands curling into fists. Religious fever? No. This was something entirely different, a reflection of Marius' own inner rage. No spiritually reborn child here, ready to fling themselves upon the mercy of the rising sun. This was fury.

"I hate it," Daniel whispered, his low voice shaking with his supressed emotion. "I HATE it. I despise it. Destroy it, Marius, burn it, tear it up, I can't stand it..." His voice was rising, mortals beginning to take notice.

Marius took his shoulders, forced him bodily away from the sight of the veil. Across the church, to a darkened prayer alcove, trying gently to quiet him. And Daniel would not be quieted, his entire body shaking, eyes wide and staring, lips drawn back in a rictus of hate.

"I HATE that thing. Marius, I loathe it. I can't stand it. That thing wasn't worth a lock of Armand's hair! Some stupid rag, who cares... God, oh God..." Daniel laughed, sharply, without mirth. "No, no God! If God allowed this then there is no God! To hell with it all!" He pulled away from Marius, flung up an arm to thrust an accusing finger at the figure poised in torment on the cross above the altar. "Liar! Sniveling, rightious, weakling whiner, nailed up to a cross of your own damn pride! They should have burnt you at the stake, drawn and quartered, shown you some REAL human suffering! Oh, damn you to hell, damn you straight to hell, how could you let this happen? I hate you, I HATE you, I HATE YOU!"

"Shhh, Daniel, calm down." The words rang hollow, even to Marius' ears. Yes, to rage like that, to throw dirt on the belief of so many, that was what he wanted to do. But not here, not now.

Daniel was livid, violet eyes dark with anger. He lowered his voice at Marius' urging but it still dripped hate in a cold, palpable way. "God is dead," he whispered, "and I spit upon him! God's blood, God's suffering... every drop in his body, every pain he every felt, isn't enough to make up for Armand. Not now, not ever!"

Abruptly, he fell silent. They both did. Mortal feet behind them, very soft, almost silent. Beat of a mortal heart, smell of mortal life and blood. Touch of a mortal mind, utterly unafraid. A woman.

Marius knew her before he turned. Slim young woman, long of leg, dark cap of hair, the gleam of true religion in her eyes. He had seen her in Lestat's mind, and David's. "Dora."

She regarded them very calmly, no fear of them even though she knew what they were. "I don't know you," she said quietly. "But you're like the others who come. You know Lestat, don't you? And David, and Arma..."

"Silence," Daniel hissed. He surged at her, taking her shoulders, giving her a little shake. Her eyes went wide. "Don't say his name, don't EVER presume to say his name! You, you and your pathetic little church, and that pitiful rag, YOU did this to him! I'll tear your tongue out if I hear you say that again!"

"Daniel!" Marius grabbed Daniel's arm, hauled him back. Dora merely stood, straightening the sleeve of her dress, still almost entirely unafraid.

"You're angry," she said, understanding in her dark eyes. "You grieve, and the grief finds it's way out in anger. You loved him, and he left you, and now you would turn your back on the church you think destroyed him. But you don't understand. It didn't destroy him. It saved him."

"Pretty words," Daniel sneered. He was trembling beneath Marius' hands. "But lies in honey are still lies! Save it for the TV cameras, bitch. Save it for the reporters, and the people who's money you take in the name of that piece of crap, but don't you DARE to say it to me."

"Satan tells lies," Dora replied. "God does not."

"Like hell," Daniel spat. "He lies just as much as the devil does, but he's a hypocrite about it besides!"

The girl appeared almost troubled, a little frown drawing down her brow. "You don't understand," she repeated. "What can I do to help convince you?"

"Nothing," Daniel growled. "Not a God damned thing! Come on, Marius, let's go. We've seen enough. I'm going to choke on all the crap around here if I don't leave soon!"

Marius tightened his grip on Daniel's arm, held him. "Not yet. Peace, Daniel." He turned to Dora, who regarded him with those strangely calm eyes. "May I make a request of you, child?"

She nodded her head. "Of course."

Marius took a deep breath. "Show me where he died."

Dora's eyes flickered, her little mouth tightening for a second. He could hear the words of refusal on her lips and reached out to take her hand, halt her. "Please," he begged softly. "He was my son."

This stopped her. She hesitated for a long moment, her lips pressed tight, dark eyes huge and round. And then she nodded, slipping her hand from Marius'. She darted away a few steps, turned, beckoned to them. A pale will'o-the-wisp in the dark of the church, a sylph bound to holy ground. Marius took Daniel's elbow, feeling the younger man's reluctance, and drew him along after Dora.

Through the church, she lead them, and outside into the snow. She stood there on the steps, somehow not shivering in her thin dress, her little shoes sliding slightly on the ice as she gestured out to the street. Her dark eyes turned back to Marius. "Children... are special to their parents. And vice versa. I'm sorry for your pain. It was... there."

"Show me exactly where. Show me where he stood." Marius' voice was firm.

The people in the line, the mortals stamping their feet and shivering in the cold, may not have noticed the vampires but they surely noticed Dora. The woman who had brought them the veil, the living saint. They cried out to her as she passed, reached to touch her hands, her arms, her hair and her dress. Anything. She smiled at them as she reached out to touch them briefly, bringing them a measure of reassurance and comfort. And then she passed by, a breeze rustling through them, drawing the two pale men in her wake like shadows.

Down the steps, out to the street. A crowd gathering around them, what was the preacher, the blessed one, doing? And then Dora stopped, reaching out to take Marius' hand, draw him closer. "Here," she cried, pointing down to the place on the cold concrete . "It was here!"

With a sound like a moan Marius pulled away from her, dropped to his knees in the snow. With trembling hands he reached out, brushing back the light layer of snow and slush, and then sweeping it back in great thrusts of his hands. Concrete beneath, and even the snow that had fallen since could not remove the blackened area, the scorched and charred patch of mottled grey stone.

With a choked sob, Marius reached out a hand. He hesitated, almost jerking back, and then, slowly, placed his palm on the stone.

Daniel was there, beside him, kneeling in the snow. His trembling hands reached down, touched Marius', and then moved to touch the blackened street in an almost reverent way.

There was a ringing in Marius' ears, a great sense of distance from the mortal crowds that ringed them. Like the buzzing of a tiny gnat, he could hear Dora telling them of it. The great miracle, as she had given the veil to the Fathers of the church, as the sun had risen, and here, on this very spot, a sinner had been redeemed and saved and drawn up to Heaven itself in a great flash of light. Sounds of awe from the crowd, they knew of this, they had read of it on the news, heard of it, the sinners who would gr eet the dawn out here, before the church, and then be consumed in the light and taken to Heaven as Christ had. All by the power of the veil, the power of proof and belief. And this place, this spot, was the first one. The very first.

Marius closed his eyes, feeling the rough concrete beneath his fingers, the wet snow, the cold. But surely there had to be something else, something more, something which he could feel. His child had died here. "Amadeo..."

Nothing. He repeated the name, louder, in voice and mind, calling out in pain, there must be something! "Amadeo!" And Daniel's voice, beside his own, rough with grief and supressed tears; "Armand!"

Marius felt it first. A warmth. It moved past his shoulders like a warm breeze, and then seemed to sink into his flesh, permeating his chilled skin and the half-frozen bones of his fingers. It burned within him, warming him, a presence that touched his mind and that he would have known anywhere. Love, it seemed to say to him. Love, and life, and warmth. Here, it seemed to say. I am here! Do not grieve, do not feel pain- I am here!

Sibilant whisper in his mind, and oh, that voice he knew so well! Always here, it told him. Always here for you, love you. My master, mi Marius. Laughter, such a gentle sound, the sound of an auburn haired angel in the form of a beautiful boy, and for one second Marius felt hands touch his own, lips against his cheek, the feather soft brush of velvety curls against his neck. Always here, always and forever...

And then, slowly, a little reluctantly, it faded. The warmth faded, the presence, and the cold returned. Feel of the street beneath him, the snow hitting him, the crowd and the noise. It was gone.

He was trying not to cry. Daniel had falled foreward, hands still pressed to the stone, head bowed over his hands, sobs shaking his shoulders. He had felt it to, had heard the voice, he was crying out- "Armand! Armand, don't leave me! I love you! Armand, don't leave me again..."

Faintest breath of warmth. Here for you, always. Love you, Daniel, my darling. And then is was gone.

Marius was trembling, his entire body shaking with the tears he tried to hold back. They were slipping from his eyes, tracking coldly down his cheeks, falling with little drops against the snow and the street and his hands. Daniel had raised his head and his hands were red with the tears he had cried, his cheeks smeared with it, blood flowing in a continuous stream from his eyes as he sobbed. With a shuddering breath Marius broke, letting the tears come, damn who saw! He cried quietly, letting all of the grief come out, the tears he had not shed, the hurt he had not expressed. His Armand, his Amadeo, child, lover, his hurt young one, and once again he had not been there for him...

Noise in the crowd, possibly panic. They had seen the blood, the tears. He would have to leave, take Daniel with him. They had to go. But the cry had already risen in the mortals around them, a voice raised in wonder and awe; "They cry blood!"

Marius flinched, half rose, taking Daniel's hands and drawing him close. Protect this young one, don't let them hurt him. But hands were on him, hands raised in wonder instead of fear, with gentle touches that did not try to hurt. Mortal hands, soft hands, brushing his cheeks, wiping at the blood, the cry raised again from more throats- "Blood!"

No. It was enough, they had come, they had seen, touched the blackened stone. Marius took Daniel in his arms, pushed back the hands that reached for them. He hated to do it but in a thought it was already done- up, straight up, into the swirling snow, le tting the winds take them. And below the voices could be heard, such awe and wonder in them.

"Angels!"

"Angels, they flew, they were angels!"

"Angels that cry blood!"

"The blood of angels!"

Up, up until they could no longer hear the voices, up through the cold and the snow and the clouds, holding Daniel tight, trying to shield him from the bitter cold. Up until they burst from the clouds, out beneath the light of the stars and moon, beneath the silvery points of the heavens. Only then did Marius slow, halt their ascent. Pick a location, any would do, New Orleans, yes, he had said they would come back there, hadn't he? Promised Louis, maybe. South, then, south and west, the stars turning slowly overhead.

Daniel stirred in his arms. His eyes were dark, shadowed. Reaching out, a little clumsy, not used to speaking through thoughts and too upset to be clear. ::I heard him.::

::Yes. So did I.::

Consternation, unease. ::Marius, I heard Armand! I heard him, it was like he was right there, I felt him...::

::Yes. Peace, Daniel. I heard him to. Felt him.::

Hesitation. ::I didn't dream it?::

::No.::

Tears again, quiet sobs, the wind carrying them away. A whispered prayer, in both their hearts, a name.

And an answer. Touch of warmth, feel of love. Always with you, my loves. Forever.

Marius closed his eyes, letting the wind cradel them both, himself and this fragile fledgling in his arms. ::Yes,:: he sent, calling, feeling in his heart and soul that the presense he felt could hear him. ::Yes, forever.

::Always and forever, Amadeo.::

End

In loving memory, always.