That's how they'd met all those years ago in Vietnam. Gideon Redd was a soldier and wolf and experiment all rolled into one. Matted in so much blood and mud he could have been as much some horrible ancient spirit of the wetlands come out to haunt the units of soldiers that hid there. Maddox had been there too, an angel of death in his own way. After years of fighting what he'd become after the war in the Pacific only a few decades ago, he'd returned to the Pacific for some kind of rage-fueled revenge upon....what, he wondered. When war broiled from the meddlings of colonizers and despots, he found his own psyche swept up in the fervor. What sweet death he'd found. And who could tell between the civilians and soldiers with throats torn out from teeth or machine gun fire.
He let the Beast take him then, and became a twisted, broken-winged gargoyle of the night that feasted on whole units of soldiers. And yes, from whatever vestige of patriotism that still rested in him, he did do his best to leave American troops alone...but there was only so much one could do to direct the Thirst. What Redd saw when they met was a creature as inhuman as himself, and it was rather shock alone that stunned Maddox out of his singular daze. It was surprise to them both when Redd became human again, and....over time...so did Maddox. Inch by inch, and driven by a warm arm around his shoulders or a twinkling smile, the tower of the Beast began to crumble. And it wasn't so hard anymore.
How many times had he nearly lost it in those early days, pinned down screaming by his enormous and powerful friend? How many times at the full moon was the only person strong enough to stop the wolf from ravaging small villages the diminutive pale vampire who could manipulate the mind? There was no way to measure the number of times they'd saved each other from themselves.
It was through Redd that Maddox learned another key element about himself, and about the mixture of vampire bloodlines that had been used to create him: Some vampires are eusocial and others are solitary. He'd always been envious of those lone hunters, untouched by insecurity or fear, mad with power and lust, beautiful traps, perfect hunters. How was he so broken? But he wasn't. There were smaller sects, the less human more animal-like vampires that lived in tightly bonded social groups. The more monstrous were often referred to as "nests" or "broods," and the more refined "covens" or "clans." There were distinctions that many of the members would be first to correct you on -- rules Ash didn't know, having been created with no sire nor clan of his own to teach him. His teachers had been the cult of scientists determined to combat Hitler's own army of darkness -- one we all know to this day.
Maddox's attachment to Redd went beyond friendship; it was a tight psychic bond that was as much a part of his identity than anything else. Redd was a part of him, he couldn't exist without him. Redd was his whole coven, and when he disappeared, Maddox's world collapsed around him. He felt like he was groping in the dark, reaching out for the nearest sign of a kind touch and companionship...he wasn't made to be alone.
He realized he'd not stopped running his finger's through Brenna's hair and feared he'd woken her. He withdrew and hunkered down a bit more. It was nothing new to be alone with his thoughts, but it felt so incredibly wrong and alone with no other mind to reach out to, other than the dreams of the ones in the home. Perhaps he'd settle for that.
So for the time being, he closed his eyes and leaned back, and reached out his recovering mind to the sleeping residents, to dream a little dream, and pretend he could sleep the afternoon away curled beside a friend.