Jean-Claude had fed, then sent Jason on his way for the night. Something Jason sometimes took advantage of for a few more hours of sleep. Tonight, though, he felt like he needed to be out. The moon was full, even if there wasn't a pull and he wanted to prowl.
He had just hit the park when he smelled dirt. Which wasn't so strange, but but wasn't the RIGHT dirt. It smelled different from the soil in the park. And, underneath that, a familiar scent. Jason turned, finding the scent and following it until he caught sight of a form in the grass. One that wasn't moving, wasn't breathing. He stopped, stared, then ran and dropped to his knees, reaching out to turn Jack's face toward him, then slid his hand down to press over the pulse point on the other man's neck. "Fuck," he murmured, sitting back with a shake of his head.