Disclaimer: Quantum Leap belongs to Bellisarius Productions and Universal Television; Vamp is owned by New World Pictures and Balcor Films, and starred Robert Rusler and Chris Makepeace.

Eye of the Beholder
by Linda S. Maclaren

"...gimme your wallet or die!"

The menacing words barely penetrated Sam Beckett's consciousness amid the multitude of other perceptions assailing him: The liquor-soured breath of the speaker, whose shaggy, pock-scarred face was thrust to within an inch of Sam's startled eyes; the hand gripped tightly across his throat, cutting off his breath; the knife pricking the skin just under his left eye; the cold brick wall against his back -- these physical cues were Sam's first unsettling impressions of his latest leap. These, and the irrelevant fact that it was night, the only light a dim glow from a lamp pole several yards to his left.

"Well, college boy?" the man hissed. "What'll it be?"

Sam struggled to speak past the constriction around his throat. "The wallet, of course," he gasped hoarsely, reaching for his pockets. He was more surprised than afraid. After all, months of leaping in and out of scores of personae had prepared him for the unexpected. He was a quick, logical thinker, and in addition to his numerous academic degrees, he was well versed in several forms of self-defense...

The next few seconds passed in a blur he never would be able to recount with precise accuracy, for these seconds shattered one of his most profound convictions and provoked the first totally overwhelming terror he had ever experienced.

A stark white hand, the skin so eerily translucent it shone icy blue in the murky glow of the lamp, reached out of the darkness and gripped the mugger's knife hand. Fingernails -- grotesquely transmogrified into feral, yellow claws -- dug deeply into the man's flesh, instantly drawing blood. Stunned, both Sam and his attacker turned, the latter whimpering in pain and fright. A face grinned at them, but it was a mockery of human features. The hideously leering mouth glistened with long, needle-like fangs, and blood-shot, yellow eyes glared at them out of a deathly pallor.

"Hi!" the apparition greeted cheerfully.

Sam had only a glimpse of this nightmarish atrocity, then the mugger was wrenched effortlessly away. The man managed a strangled whine of terror before falling victim to the appalling abhorrence.

The panic welled up from the very core of Sam's spirit. His legs would not hold him, and he slid helplessly down the wall, unable to tear his eyes away from the terrible scene before him. The mugger struggled briefly, then gradually slumped lifeless in the arms of his attacker. The gruesome feast concluded, the monster that had saved Sam's life discarded the flaccid husk of its prey and turned around.

Sam felt another shock course through his already overstressed senses. Gone was the ghastly face. Instead, Sam stared into the deep brown eyes of a devilishly handsome young man. About six feet tall and well-built, the man was dressed in dark slacks, a gray silk shirt unbuttoned at the collar, and a jacket patterned in black and gray weave, the sleeves pushed up past the elbows. Sam's mental haze sluggishly fixed a time period: He was somewhere in the mid- to late-80's.

But what of the repulsive monster he was so certain he'd seen? Sam felt only numb confusion.

The young man reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. "Now that was radical!" he exulted, delicately wiping his lips.

Sam just stared, aghast. He couldn't find his voice and wouldn't have known what to say anyway.

His companion frowned and looked down at his jacket front. "The threads are all right, aren't they?" he asked. "No blood or anything? This is the last good jacket I have." Sam just shook his head in mute bewilderment.

The young man's expression turned to concern. "Hey, buddy, you OK?" He took a step forward, and Sam scrambled to his feet in alarm, the panic still surging inside him, the block wall at his back an impenetrable barrier defeating his instinct to escape.

The young man stopped, confused and hurt. "Keith?" he asked uncertainly. Sam's panic faded slowly as he realized he was in no danger. Now, he faced his own uncertainty -- had he seen what he'd thought he'd seen?

"I'm OK," he murmured hoarsely, and deliberately pushed away from the wall. He forced himself to walk to the corpse of the mugger and crouched to confirm what his senses had already told him -- the lifeless form was bloodless, the fluid apparently extracted through two deep puncture wounds in the jugular. Sam's entire body felt weak and cold with shock. He looked at his rescuer, and tried to comprehend what had happened in the past few minutes. His intellect argued that what he had witnessed could not possibly be the truth.

"What?" the young man asked, exasperated.

Sam groped for something to say. "This will be hard to explain," he managed at last.

"Oh." The young man grinned, all at once looking incredibly boyish and guileless. He chuckled. "You know, I think this guy was tanked. I feel great."

Sam realized he wasn't going to get any help or useful information. He found the mugger's knife and picked it up. Grimacing with distaste, and hoping he was doing the right thing, he steeled himself. Forcing the blade into the first neck wound, he drew the knife across the dead man's throat, widening the gash. He repeated the maneuver with the second wound. Any evidence of -- could he bring himself to even think it? - the knife wounds might obscure the fang marks.

Throughout Sam's gruesome task, the young man watched intently. "Hey, good idea," he congratulated. "Cops'll chalk it up to another one of those cult killings."

Sam looked at his companion. "It won't disguise what really happened if they look past the obvious. A thorough post-mortem will turn up the fang marks and evidence of saliva in the wounds."

"Yeah? You pick up the most amazing facts, Keith."

"Necessity being the mother of invention and all that," Sam returned with an edge of bitterness. He'd had some strange incarnations in his quantum leaps, but this was by far the most bizarre, not to mention the most macabre.

The young man's expression became belligerent. "Keith, I told you before I've never killed anyone. Remember, this guy was about to skewer you. I've saved your hide three times now, and I think I deserve a little more trust, OK?"

Sam stood up. He was still a bit shaky, but no longer gripped by helpless fear. Still, he found it difficult to look at his companion. "Now what?"

"Now we party."

Sam couldn't believe what he'd heard. "We what?"

"Hey, we came down here to have a good time, right, buddy? Why let a little mugging dull our party spirits?" He started to throw a companionable arm around Sam's shoulder, but Sam stepped back involuntarily, then grimaced.

"I'm sorry." He didn't get a response. The young man's face reflected his bewildered distress. Sam felt sudden compassion. "Are you all right?"

The young man looked at him and laughed, a hoarse, humorless sound. "Sure, I'm just fine. I'm a fucking vampire, Keith! That's hard enough to deal with, but it's even harder when your best friend thinks you're abhorrent."

"I don't think you're abhorrent," Sam protested weakly, lying but thinking no one could be expected to adapt to this particular leap in the blink of an eye. "But this is all kind of new to me, too, remember?"

The young man's mood shifted again. He grinned. "OK, then let's go." This time, Sam didn't flinch from the arm around his shoulder. As they walked out of the alley, his companion became positively cheerful. "We should do this more often, you know. We could pick on the dregs of society. I could call myself the 'Fanged Fury'. What'd'ya think?"

Sam chuckled nervously. "I hope that was a joke," he returned feebly.

The club was called "Sandy's" and it was located just a few doors down the sidewalk. They went in to a confusion of lights and noise. A live dance band pounded out a frantic paean to sex -- the lyrics didn't seem to have anything to do with love - and they compensated with volume for what they lacked in talent. The place was crowded with young people, the central core writhing on the dance floor, the rest gathered at the fringes, their bodies packed so closely they swayed as one to the beat. Bright strobes slashed through the group from overhead, their colors pulsating in perfect rhythm.

"Hey, isn't this great?" the young man shouted at Sam, who barely heard him above the ear-shattering decibels of the band. Sam just nodded, feeling he didn't have the strength to engage in a screaming match just for the sake of conversation.

There was a long mirror behind the drinks bar but he was too busy trying to keep up with his companion to worry about what his current persona looked like. He trailed through the gyrating masses, past the dance floor and up a metal staircase toward a second level located behind the bandstand. It was much quieter here than on the lower level.

"Actually, the band's lousy," the young man continued. "Who are we kidding, right? But with the only civilization two hundred miles away, we don't have a hell of a lot of choice."

They reached the second-level landing. Little glass-topped, wrought-iron tables were clustered tightly around the room, and most of them were occupied by couples and groups taking a break between dances.

Sam was suddenly embraced in a tight hug, and he focused on the pretty blonde girl in front of him. "You took your sweet time," she complained.

"Keith managed to get himself mugged while I was parking your car," the young man explained, handing her a set of car keys.

She looked at Sam in concern. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," Sam replied with a wan smile. "The Fanged Fury rescued me."

The girl grinned at Sam's companion. "AJ -- the Fanged Fury? Good Lord."

The young man -- Sam now knew his name was AJ - grinned back and took her hand. "The first dance is mine, Allison," he said with a proprietary air. "You don't mind, do you, buddy?"

Allison planted a quick kiss on Sam's mouth. "That's our table over there, where my suede jacket is. Guard it 'til we get back, OK?" She gripped Sam's hand briefly as AJ started back down the steps. "Don't worry -- I'll save all the slow dances for you," she promised him, obediently following AJ. Her voice drifted back to Sam. "Remember, AJ, no kissing if you've been snacking."

Sam took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. He located the table Allison had reserved with her jacket, then turned around to look down at the dance floor. Already, Allison and AJ had been swallowed up by the mass of bodies, but he managed to find them after a bit. They appeared to be enjoying themselves, but Sam was more interested in confirming something. Was AJ really a vampire -- and Sam couldn't believe it for a moment, despite the evidence of his eyes -- or were he and Keith and Allison all caught up in some sick hallucination? Sam got his bearings on the dancing couple, then switched his eyes to the mirror behind the lower-level bar. It took him only a moment to shatter his earlier certainty -- Allison was there, dancing up a storm amid the confusion of dancers, but she was all alone. There was no reflection of AJ visible in the mirror.

Sam walked dazedly to the table and slumped into a chair. A waitress in a skin-tight black jumpsuit stopped beside him. "Drinks?"

"I'll have a beer," Sam said, feeling that not only did he deserve it, but for one of the few times in his life feeling as if he really needed it.

The girl frowned. "ID?"

Sam rethought quickly. "Sorry, make it a coke, please. Three of them."

The waitress smiled. "Thanks for not making it difficult, Keith. I know Allison sneaks you booze when she's working, but I really need this job."

"That's OK," Sam returned. "It's my fault -- I just wasn't thinking."

The girl's smile turned into a broad grin. "I'll start a tab for you," she promised, and disappeared toward the bar at the back of the room that serviced this upper level.

"Sam, you're not gonna believe this," said a voice from behind him.

Sam turned around quickly and felt an almost overwhelming surge of relief. "Al," he gasped.

"The guy you're supposed to be thinks his best friend is a vampire."

Sam answered wearily. "He is."

Al sank into the chair next to Sam, or rather his holographic image did, which was almost the same thing. "You mean AJ is actually practicing vampirism?" he asked in amazement. "Jeez, he's really sick."

Sam knew he had to convince Al of the truth, which he himself had accepted only moments ago. "Al, go over to the railing and look in the mirror behind the downstairs bar."

"What?"

"Look at AJ in the mirror."

Al got up and did what he was told. He stood at the railing for a long, long time, occasionally looking bemusedly over his shoulder at Sam before returning his gaze to the mirror. When he returned to his seat, he was a very subdued man. "Sam, we've got a problem."

Sam chuckled at the understatement. "You're telling me."

"No, I mean vampires don't exist. We know vampires don't exist. Ziggy knows vampires don't exist. How do we build data on something that doesn't exist?"

Sam shook his head, then rested his elbow on the table to cradle his chin in his hand. Talking to Al, who was invisible to anyone over the age of five, wouldn't look quite so obvious. "I don't know. Build a database using theoretical parameters? What have we got so far?"

"So far, nothing," Al returned. "It took us this long to find you. I think Ziggy's heading for a major meltdown. We had a lot of trouble locating you, and then Ziggy could never seem to center me in the right place. We finally just winged it and calculated a half-bubble off plumb, if you know what I mean."

"I love it when you talk technical," Sam observed dryly.

"Anyway, up until thirty seconds ago, I figured your job was to convince AJ he's not a vampire. Now, I haven't a clue."

"Has Keith been able to tell you anything?" Sam asked, thinking this was unlikely due to the shock usually suffered by his counterparts, who leaped out as Sam leaped in.

"Oh, yeah, we can't shut him up," Al replied to Sam's surprise. "He says he's gotta get back here 'cause he's afraid AJ's gonna off himself."

"Wonderful," Sam murmured. "A suicidal vampire." The waitress returned with the drinks and set them on the table. Sam smiled his thanks, but it was a pretty dismal effort. She looked at him curiously, probably wondering at his sudden glum turn, then smiled sympathetically before going off to handle her other tables.

"Yeah, and have you thought about whether or not you want to save him -- er, it?" Al queried. "Maybe you're really here to help ease AJ out of his misery."

"No!" Sam objected heatedly, suddenly grateful the club was crowded and noisy. No one would notice a young madman apparently arguing with himself. "I've never leaped in to kill anyone."

"No, not specifically, but sometimes saving someone has required you to kill someone else."

"Don't get pedantic!" Sam shot back angrily. He calmed himself with effort. "Sorry, Al."

Al shrugged. "It's OK," he said. "This leap's a little weird for both of us."

"Did Keith tell you how AJ became a vampire?"

"Yeah. The story's a bit muddled, but it looks as if Keith and AJ went to hire a stripper for some sort of frat party back at the beginning of the semester -- which, by the way, was almost exactly a month ago. They stumbled into a place called the After Dark Club, filled with hungry vampires." Al shivered at the imagery this conjured in his fertile imagination. "Apparently, these vampires only went after transients and loners. They goofed, nailed AJ, and tossed him out with the garbage. Then, when Keith started nosing around, they reanimated AJ to deal with him. Instead, Keith dealt with the bunch of them, destroying the club in the process."

"Keith sounds like quite a guy," Sam said in open admiration. "I guess after what he's been through, adapting to a simple thing like a leap has been pretty easy for him."

"Easier for him than for you, by the sound of it," Al agreed. "Oops, watch it, Sam. Vampire at nine o'clock."

AJ was by himself when he came up to the table. He sank into the chair across from Sam and buried his head in his arms. "Man, I used to enjoy this," he said forlornly, his voice muffled by his arms. "Now when I look at a beautiful woman, all I can see is that little pulse point in her throat." He lifted his head and glowered at Sam. "I think I'm losing interest in sex!" he complained, as if somehow this was all Sam's fault. Abruptly, he grinned disarmingly at Al. "Hi!" he greeted brightly.

Startled, Al did a bit of classic shtick, automatically looking over both shoulders to see if AJ was talking to someone behind him. There was no one there. He looked back at AJ. "Hi," he ventured uncertainly.

"Friend of yours, Keith?"

Sam was just as shaken as Al. "Yeah. Al, AJ -- AJ, Al."

AJ stuck out a friendly hand. "Pleased to meet you."

To Al's credit, he didn't flinch. Instead, he stood up. "Sorry, I never shake hands on the first date." He didn't mention that he wouldn't have been able to do so anyway -- holograms not being able to shake hands with anything. He looked at Sam. "Uh, see you around, Keith," he said.

"Bye," Sam said, sorry to see him go. He had a thousand questions still begging answers.

Al retreated with alacrity, careful not to walk through any of the patrons clustered around the bar. Luckily, AJ didn't watch him for long. "Weird guy," he said to Sam. "He one of your professors?"

"Would you believe quantum physics?"

AJ laughed. "What every future CPA needs to know."

Sam laughed with him. "It's all math to me."

AJ's mood changed abruptly, which Sam figured was pretty much the norm these days. He felt as if he were being dragged along on an emotional rollercoaster; it was hard keeping up with AJ's mercurial highs and lows.

"Let's get out of here."

"What about Allison?"

"She went to powder her nose or something," AJ said, getting up. "She'll be all right."

Sam had no choice but to follow him. He took out his wallet and tossed some bills on the table next to the untouched cokes, then realized AJ's mood had shifted because he had noticed the three glasses. Sam grimaced; AJ would not be into drinking sodapop.

They met Allison at the top of the stairs, but AJ just hugged her briefly and slipped past her. She stopped Sam with a frown of concern. "Leaving already?"

"Sorry," Sam apologized. "You know how he gets."

"Yeah, poor guy," Allison said sadly, although to which one of them she was referring was anyone's guess. "Bummer. See you tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" Sam repeated blankly.

"Sunday -- picnic in the woods -- meet you in front of your dorm at eleven?" She shook her head at his forgetfulness. "Keith, you need to work at getting more sleep. Keeping up with your own class schedule and covering AJ's day courses is making you a basket case." She giggled. "Or is that 'casket' case?"

"Very funny," Sam returned defensively. "I can handle it." He knew Keith would handle it -- his calm acceptance of the leap was proof of that.

"It's only been a month," Allison said gently. "How are you going to get through the whole semester -- and the next four years?"

Sam shrugged. "We'll manage," he said more softly. "Eleven in front of the dorm. Got it." With this promise, he started to give her a little kiss, but she grabbed him ad planted a full-blown lip lock that left him breathless.

"Don't forget," she whispered against his lips before letting him go.

"No chance of that," he assured her, reluctantly drawing his attention back to more immediate matters and hurrying down the stairs to find AJ.

He fought his way through the throng on the lower floor, then gratefully breathed fresh air as he exited onto the sidewalk. AJ was already a half block away. Sam ran to catch up with him. They walked in silence, AJ's hands thrust into his pockets, his head bent. Their footfalls echoed on the cement as they walked past the alley where Sam had been mugged. It was still silent; the dead man had yet to be discovered. There were only a few people on the sidewalk, and the couples Sam saw were heading rapidly in the opposite direction, back toward the bright lights of the boulevard and the club.

They headed into darkness. "Are we going any place in particular?" Sam asked as last.

AJ stopped and leaned against the wall of a small, run-down residential hotel. There were no streetlights here, and the road and walks were deserted. "You know," he said irrelevantly, "lately I've started looking very closely at picket fences."

It took Sam a minute to find meaning in the remark. "Man, don't talk like that."

AJ shook his head, dismissing Sam's plea. His voice was quiet and curiously flat. "Keith, you're my best friend, but when this thing first happened to me, I almost killed you."

"But you didn't," Sam pointed out reasonably.

"I think I'm still changing," AJ went on, wonder and revulsion evident in his tone. "Like tonight -- dancing with Allison. I started fantasizing about the blood coursing through her veins, you know? What if I get to the point where I can't tell friend from food?"

"It won't happen," Sam answered with more assurance than he felt. In the few vampire movies he'd seen, the vampire always had a faithful servant. Then again, how much authoritative research had ever been done?

AJ walked on, more slowly now, Sam beside him. "Man, look at us. I'm still in school because that's the only way my scholarship money gets paid --- if and when it gets paid," he added parenthetically, his thoughts momentarily diverting to this new tack before resuming course. "But what's the point? Am I really going to get my medical degree? Besides the fact that I'll probably chow down on my patients, what doctor do you know whose office hours are from dusk to dawn?"

"That's a long way down the road," Sam countered inanely. "We just take it one day at a time."

"And what about you, good buddy?" AJ went on after a moment. "What sort of normal life are you going to have? Are you going to get married, have a couple of kids, live in the suburbs -- and keep a vampire in the cellar?" He mimicked Keith's voice. "Dear, I forgot to mention we have to get married at midnight so my best man can be at the wedding. Did I tell you he looks great in a tux?"

Sam laughed in spite of himself. It was hard not to like AJ, a handsome, intelligent, confident young man whose life had suddenly been derailed by circumstances that defied logical explanation. Sam had the feeling AJ was one of those lucky people whom fortune had always favored, making him ill prepared to handle this bizarre detour in his life. Keith, on the other hand, seemed to be stronger, more able to adapt and bounce back. Or maybe, as he'd said, AJ was still "changing", and his mood swings from euphoria to depression were the result of the physical changes wracking his body.

Sam abruptly realized they were on campus, but it didn't look like any college campus he'd ever seen. The physical touches were right -- venerable, ivy-covered towers of academia, the beautifully manicured grounds, the fountains, statues, benches and pathways that helped make a college campus seem a place of tranquility. But the ambience was wrong. There were very few people about, and the few Sam saw were hurrying almost frantically toward their destinations. Sam figured he and AJ looked totally out of place as they strolled nonchalantly across the grass.

"You know what I miss?" AJ asked as they entered one of the old brick dorms and started up the polished wooden stairs.

"What?"

"Corned beef and cabbage."

"You're kidding."

They left the stairs at the second floor and walked down a linoleum-tiled hall. About half way down the corridor, AJ stopped to fish out his keys and open the door to one of the rooms. Sam automatically followed him inside and closed the door. This was always a tricky part in a leap -- was this also Sam's room, or was he expected to go elsewhere for the night?

It was a typical dorm room, cluttered with textbooks, clothes, stereo system, records and the detritus of college life. It had an orderly neatness about it, however, despite the clutter. Sam noticed the windows were tightly shuttered, and a 24-hour clock sat prominently on the desk. It read 0213.

AJ sprawled in the only comfortable chair. "My mom used to fix it at least once a month. Dad always said it reminded him of his background -- poverty that honed the self-made man and all that. I used to hate it. Funny how your head works when you can't have certain things, huh?"

"Yeah." Sam approached the refrigerator with trepidation and cautiously opened the door. It wasn't quite as bad as he'd anticipated. There were several opaque cartons marked LAB WORK, DO NOT OPEN, some canned goods, sodapop and a package of moldy cheese.

"Pasta," AJ said suddenly.

Sam jumped. "What?"

"Spaghetti and meat sauce with lots of garlic. Remember how you used to fix it?"

"Yeah."

"Hey, is there any of that B-positive left?"

"Uh, I'll check," Sam murmured. He pulled out one of the cartons and peered uncertainly inside. As he'd expected, it was a plastic pouch of whole blood. Where Keith -- or perhaps AJ -- was scrounging it from was a mystery because there were no labels on the bag to denote its origin. Sam picked it out of the carton and wondered what he was supposed to do next.

AJ leaned back and closed his eyes. "That drunk who tried to roll you tonight gave me an idea. If I can drink alcohol that way, why not add something a little spicy to the traditional brew?"

Sam cringed. "You want me to pour this over some spaghetti?"

AJ chuckled. "No. How about adding some flavor to remind me of that great sauce you used to make. Toss in some garlic before you nuke it, OK?"

"OK." Sam located the garlic powder above the sink, found several large soup mugs in the dish drain, and poured the blood into one of them. Feeling his stomach recoil at the prospect, he dumped in a liberal dose of the garlic powder before putting the cup inside the microwave. There was a temperature probe inside, so he had no difficulty deducing the program for heating the strange brew to 98 degrees.

He switched on the oven and resolutely turned his back on its repulsive contents, then stared in baffled surprise.

AJ was still sitting in the chair, but now he had an apple on top of his head. He grinned and pointed toward it. "Wanna take a shot?"

Sam shook his head dumbly. "Pass."

AJ sighed at his friend's unwillingness to play. He took the apple off his head and tossed it to Sam, who caught it as if fielding an alien life form and set it quickly on the kitchen counter. Then, in an effort to forestall any further lunacy from his companion, he fetched a soda from the refrigerator and sat down at the desk.

"That garlic nonsense is one of those fallacies the world clings to," AJ said, settling back and closing his eyes again. "Like crosses -- it's not the cross that wards off vampires, but the faith of the person who wields it."

"What about your faith, AJ?" Sam asked curiously.

"Me? I was always too busy chasing cheerleaders and being all-varsity." AJ chuckled. "You, too."

"I could never keep up with you, though," Sam said, instinctively knowing he was right. Keith was the acquiescent follower to AJ's more flamboyant style; but Keith was also the real strength in the friendship, the one who would keep his best friend in line...most of the time anyway.

"Lucky you." AJ opened his eyes and looked at Sam. "You thought about what we discussed last week?"

"Of course," Sam lied, knowing he was back on shaky ground.

"You have an answer yet?"

"Not yet. There's still time."

"Time," AJ echoed emptily. "Yeah."

The microwave timer buzzed, and Sam remembered what he'd been cooking up. He reluctantly fetched it and handed it to his companion, who took the cup and sniffed the contents with a grimace.

"No good?" Sam asked.

"No, it's fine," AJ assured him. He raised the cup in a toast. "I have seen the future -- and it sucks." He drank the contents down quickly without pausing for breath, and Sam turned away, revulsion making his stomach heave.

AJ finished and stood up. "A little early for bed, but what the hell," he commented. He rinsed the cup and put it aside on the drain, then headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Sam blurted involuntarily.

"To bed." AJ enunciated the two words very carefully, as if Sam had not been able to comprehend him the first time. "Oh, remind me to get a trowel, will you? That damned dirt is getting lumpy."

"Yeah," Sam said weakly. "A trowel." He followed AJ to the door, where his friend stopped and turned to face him. AJ's expression was remarkably gentle and full of love. "Keith, you know I never would have gotten through the last few weeks without your help," he said in what Sam perceived to be a rare moment of selflessness.

Sam was dumbstruck for a long moment. "We're going to get through this," he promised finally, knowing AJ was looking for some much-needed reassurance.

AJ's seriousness dissolved into a grin. "Sure we are," he agreed, then gave a jaunty salute before striding off down the hall.

He passed a couple of returning students without a glance, but Sam noticed them step hastily to one side, giving AJ a wide path. They watched as AJ entered the stairwell, then turned toward Sam and smiled nervously before retreating into their own room further down the hall. With a chill, Sam noted they were both wearing prominent crosses on heavy chains around their necks.

He closed the door thoughtfully and turned around, then nearly yelped in surprise to find Al surveying the room with an appreciative eye.

"This brings back memories, Sam," Al said with relish. "Sneaking girls into the dorm after dark, the all-night parties, the panty raids -- "

"Al," Sam interrupted, "can we get on with business?"

"Sure," Al agreed, sighing, "but you'd better sit down."

Sam flopped into the overstuffed chair and braced for the worst, although he could not begin to imagine what that could be. "Tell me."

"First, we had the same trouble with Ziggy again," Al began in a peeved tone, as if blaming Sam for the inconvenience. He paced the room while he talked. "Every time I tried to center on you, I ended up somewhere else." He stopped and sighed again. "Ah, well."

It was all right for Al to sigh, Sam reflected. What if Ziggy really packed it in, and Al couldn't center on him at all? The thought of losing his one tenuous thread with his own time was frightening.

"Anyway, we turned up something interesting on AJ and Keith," Al went on, consulting his hand-held viewer. "Or rather, we didn't turn up something, which was interesting in itself."

"Al," Sam interrupted patiently, "you're blithering."

Al looked affronted. "I thought I was being perfectly clear."

Now it was Sam's turn to sigh. "You were. I'm just tired, that's all."

Mollified, Al took pity and got back to business. "Seems like AJ and Keith disappeared off the face of the earth the night they went to the After Dark Club. Also a Japanese student named Duncan, who was with them as a condition of their borrowing his car." Al frowned thoughtfully. "The After Dark Club. That sounds familiar, Sam. Does it mean anything to you?"

"Not a thing," Sam answered. "Was Duncan's car ever found?"

"No. Anyway, Keith told me Duncan is dead. He got turned into a vampire, and Keith barbecued him." Sam grimaced at the unpleasant image, but Al continued matter-of-factly. "What I don't understand, Sam, is how they could have disappeared a month ago when they're so obviously here -- attending classes, going to discos, draining blood from hapless victims."

Sam didn't have an answer, so he dismissed the incongruities for the time being. "What about Allison?"

"Well, from what we could find out, Allison Hicks disappeared from the city just over five weeks ago. She was not a student here at the college. She had quit her job the day before her disappearance, so the police weren't too concerned about finding her despite her parents' insistence that something had happened to her. Her only connection with Keith and AJ is they apparently were all in summer camp together 'way back when."

Sam frowned, trying to make sense of it. He couldn't. "There's something I need to find out from Keith," he said after a bit. "It's something he and AJ talked about sometime last week."

Al's mood became somber. "Yeah."

"He already told you?"

Al looked reluctant to continue the conversation and resumed his pacing. "Well, Sam, you know vampires live a long, long time -- hundreds of years, maybe more."

"Unless someone drives a wooden stake through their heart, burns 'em up, or exposes them to sunlight," Sam amended.

"Ah, that's not quite the entire story," Al explained, grateful for the shift in topic. "Sunlight will do 'em in for sure, but so will keeping the vampire out of his coffin past sunrise. It's a lot slower than exposure to direct sunlight, but it's just as certain. Apparently, the time involved is directly proportional to the strength of the vampire."

"So you're saying it would be risky just to stuff AJ into a closet or under the bed until the sun went down."

Al nodded. "Yep."

Sam filed away this information and got back to the previous subject. "The discussion they had last week?" he prompted.

Al frowned with distaste. "AJ doesn't want to cope with the next few centuries without his best friend by his side, if you get my drift."

The chill that stabbed through Sam had nothing to do with the air temperature. "AJ wants Keith to become a vampire, too?"

"Got it in one," Al agreed.

What would Keith do? Sam wondered. Somehow, he had to spare the young man from ever having to make that horrible, inevitably damning decision. Which brought up the question that had been nagging him from the beginning: "Al, what exactly am I doing here?"

Al shook his head in helpless ignorance. "I don't know, Sam. We tried your theoretical projection, but Ziggy's answers are too vague to be useful."

"I want to help AJ," Sam said with conviction. "I'd like to cure him."

"I think that's a little beyond your medical scope," Al observed skeptically. "It could take years to determine the cause of the affliction and find a cure."

"Well, until we figure out what I'm supposed to do, I'm stuck here!" Sam said with a rare flash of anger. A new thought intruded, draining his anger and replacing it with dread. "Al, you don't think I've leaped in to make the decision for Keith, do you?"

Al's expression was sympathetic. "Maybe something very like that," he agreed softly, his voice filled with compassion. "Sam, did it occur to you that maybe you're not supposed to save AJ? Maybe you're really here to save Keith."

Sam pondered the idea. It was a possibility, but one he shied from. To judge by all the evidence, the real Keith was bright and resourceful. And he loved AJ. To what extremes was he willing to go to save his best friend? Would Sam -- could Sam -- go to those same extremes? "I hope you're wrong, Al. I really like AJ."

"Maybe the way to help him is to help him die with a little dignity," Al pointed out. "Maybe it would be the most merciful thing to do, the same as you'd do for a hopelessly sick or injured animal."

"Except AJ's a man."

"Is he?"

Sam frowned. "He was."

"And you'd be sparing Keith from making a choice that would haunt him for the rest of his life to matter which way he decided."

Sam was suddenly consumed by weariness. "I think I'll have to sleep on it, Al," he said. "Maybe Allison will be able to tell me something useful. I'm seeing her tomorrow."

"OK," Al agreed sympathetically. "In the meantime, I'll keep talking to Keith." He smiled suddenly. "You know, Keith is a pretty special young man. He's smart, cool, quick on the uptake -- he kinda reminds me of you. Except at his age, you were an impossible nerd."

"Thanks," Sam returned sarcastically. "But go easy on him, Al. He's going through a lot right now."

"And you're going through it right along with him." Al pushed a code into the handset, and the bright door of the imaging chamber opened behind him. He looked reluctant to leave, but Sam clearly wanted to be alone. "Good night, Sam."

"Good night, Al."

The door shut with a finality that left Sam feeling unaccountably sad. Determined not to wallow in the useless emotion, he got up from the chair.

At least Keith was a fairly neat housekeeper, and Sam didn't find any objections in the neatly made beds (one for roommate AJ, obviously, but unused these past weeks). He poked into drawers and cupboards. There was evidence AJ did live here, probably using the dorm as a place to shower and change between his nocturnal sojourns.

To himself, Sam admitted he would be glad to see daylight. He simply couldn't think clearly with the knowledge that a vampire -- a real, flesh-and-blood (emphasis on the "blood", please) vampire -- was peering over his shoulder, figuratively if not in actuality. And Keith was with him, too -- he could feel his counterpart's presence more acutely than he had in any of his other leaps. Sam went into the bathroom and peered at the unfamiliar face in the mirror. A very young face, cute rather than handsome, strained now with worry and exhaustion. But there was determination there as well, a stubborn optimism that defied the odds. Keith didn't look the sort to give up easily.

Abruptly, Sam realized several things. Keith would never agree to becoming a vampire; but he would destroy himself in an effort to save his friend, and the effort would be futile because Keith did not possess the skills or knowledge required to pull off such an incredible feat.

Which hopefully meant Sam Beckett did.

"We're gonna do this," Sam promised the image in the mirror, and he immediately felt better for making the commitment.

He left the bathroom, kicked off his shoes, and stretched out on one of the beds.

Where did Allison fit in? Clearly, she knew the truth about AJ. Maybe she knew about the After Dark Club and what had happened there. He felt assured that she would be able to give him some answers about his purpose here: to help Keith? -- to cure AJ? -- to kill AJ?

This last was unthinkable, but Sam found himself thinking about it anyway as he drifted off into a troubled sleep.

Continue on to Part Two