Maybe I should have been used to that "Jesus Christ I saw you burn!" look by then. Perhaps it shouldn't have bothered me so much this time, after all, it wasn't like this was the first time I had died. It had become as natural as waking up-death that is.

But I still wasn't used to that look.

"Well, hello Kaz," I muttered casually, dusting ash from my shoulder. I tried to smile, but my mouth just twitched unpleasantly. I didn't really want to scare him. Not really. "Been a while, eh?"

"B-but you're dead!" Ah, yes. There was that. Kaz hadn't been the first to tell me that, to whisper it like some painfully obvious secret I wasn't aware of until now.

"Well, technically I suppose..." I plopped down next to him on the bed (well, it was more of a mattress on a another mattress with a blanket and some pillows thrown on it), bits of ash and dirt and soot and...well...me...brushing off my coat, that had at one time been brown, into the air. He crawled closer to the wall, amethyst eyes forever getting bigger. He looked cute. So unlike my Kaz. Everything about this Kaz was unlike my Kaz.

"But I'm walking and talking and thinking, more or less, so I guess I'm not dead." I clutched my hand into a soft fist and bits of charred, blackened flesh flaked off, revealing pale patches of skin. My entire body was a mess like this, I'd have to scrape away the filth of my former self later. Everything but my face that is. It was fine. As good as it had been the day I had met Kaz. I had become very good at protecting it from fire or anything else that may have been an immediate threat to it. No one likes to walk around with their nose missing or their face melted until it looked like some grotesque mask. My clothes were burnt in spots and fused with charred skin that had once been mine, here and there. And my hair-my hair which had been a nice, dark, auburn was burnt black at the tips and an entire 3 inches shorter then it had been before. Oh well, it would grow back. It always did.

But I could worry about my appearance later. Right now, I had to deal with Kaz.

"Look, Liam," He whispered frantically. "I'm-I'm really sorry about what happened. It's just...I wasn't thinking and I just couldn't bear the thought of you...with him..." He glared darkly at something, far, far away, before his eyes flicked back to me. Fearful. It's funny how attractive fear is. Not that I wanted to scare him. Though at this point, I was beginning to think I did. "And I've had time to think about what happened now...it wasn't fair, I know that now, I really do. I really am sorry. And I'm happy to see you, really, it's just...you look half dead and I'm not entirely convinced you're not a ghost or zombie or something...but if you're not and still interested maybe we can-"

I managed to smile this time, and placed a finger to his lips. It left a charcoal mark, fraying their perfection. I wanted to lick the smudge off, and do other things with my tongue to him, but this wasn't the time nor place, and I wasn't quite in the mood.

"First off Kaz, you're an idiot. Seriously, I've seen peasants half-crazed from the plague with more sense then you. Secondly, I don't believe you did it out of jealousy for one bloody minute. You did it because you found out about me and you were scared. I don't know who told you, because you sure the hell didn't figure it for yourself, but it's sure made me think about us. I really don't think I can be in a relationship with someone who can burn my house down with me in it while I'm sleeping. Though I have to admit, it took guts. And lastly, I'm not a ghost or a zombie. Well...I say I'm not a zombie because I have no desire to eat all your pretty flesh, and I can do more then moan and wander around stupidly. And I can run. Zombies normally don't run. I think..." I mused the last bit, thinking back to the last zombie flick I had seen. Dawn of the Dead. I had thought it rather humorous myself.

"But that's not my point. My point is, I think we're over Kaz. I do love you, really." I patted his shaking arm for assurance. He looked briefly at the murky print left on his arm, before he stared at me again. Intently. "But I really can't feel safe with you any more. And a little, tiny, part of me, is bent on revenge. It wants to make you suffer Kaz. Now, normally when that tiny bit of me speaks, I ignore it. Sometimes it seems a lot bigger then it really is, but I always fight the urge to listen to it, and act upon any of its suggestions. But right now my love, right now I'm very tempted to give in." I let the words sink in slowly, a sort of venom.

"Liam, what're you going to do to me?" He asked, voice trembling. He was so beautiful in the lurid moonlight. I managed to smile again, but this time it didn't look like I was trying to reassure him of anything. It looked demonic and maniacal and awful. I knew it. I knew the smile well.

"Kaz, you've hurt me deeper then you know...Not just physically, but believe me, the fire hurt. No, more of an...emotional thing. It's like you cut out my heart with a very dull knife. Do you know what that feels like Kaz?" He shook his head vigorously. "I didn't think so. Do you want to know what it feels like?" This time his head shook so rapidly, it almost made me dizzy. Almost. "Well, I guess it's good for you that I don't want to damage you too much...now, don't get me wrong Kaz, you are going to die tonight. I promise. But there's so many things you'll be good for after you've died...when you're still warm." He gave me a ghastly look, and the evil smile playing my lips widened.

Now, I'd like to say, I am not, nor have ever been, into shagging dead things. Well...technically dead things. The people like me are an exception to that. Not that I've done many of them either. But my point is, I was not going to fuck Kaz after he became so ever recently deceased. I said it simply to scare him.

I am many things, I dare say, but not a necrophiliac.

"Please, Liam-"

"Hush now love," I cooed softly, the space between the two of us becoming next to nothing. My mouth was very close to his. And his breathing was almost frantic. I stroked his cheek gently, smearing black everywhere. And then the space was gone and we were kissing, and my tongue was forcing his lips to part. He tried to fight me off, but not much. Enough to make me grab his wrists and pin them to the wall behind us.

He had a nice taste to him.

Like cinnamon and blood...or something like that.

I broke the kiss, and noticed he wasn't shaking so hard any more. The kiss must have been some false sort of comfort, that I'd forget about my task and forgive him.

Poor, poor Kaz. He should have known me better by then.

I trailed a few more, soft kisses down his neck, along a vein that had an enticing amount of blood flowing through it. I ran my tongue over a spot, like a cat lapping up water (becuase no one in the right mind gives their cat milk) and bit down....

---

I don't remember my own transformation, so much as everything that happened after it. My memories from before are all scattered, crumpled and hard to read. I don't remember my parents or my friends (if I had any) or if I had any pets. I don't remember what my house looked like, whether I had brothers or sisters. Nothing.

But after I turned into what I am, I remember everything. The one who turned me was a man and his name was Acheras. Or at least that's what he said it was. Whether that was really his name, I'll never know. He didn't have black hair and blazing eyes and he wasn't exceptionally beautiful or handsome. His hair was a rather dull shade of brown, his eyes were nut colored, he was barely taller then me and he didn't wear all black. In other words, he didn't look like he stepped out of Dracula. Maybe some people would be disappointed by this, but I'm thankful for it now. If he had been anything like my kind were expected to look in human culture, I would have been ashamed.

"Liam," He whispered, after the transformation had finished and I lay, coughing up bits of blood and worst on a floor-some floor I didn't know. I do not remember the transformation, but I know it was painful. After all, in order for it to take place, the poisonous blood must kill the human body. Rebirth is much easier then death.

"Yes?" I asked, my voice sounding unusually strong. I was used to it being a hoarse whisper-which could have been from the few hours of the transformation and his feeding. Who knows.

"Do you know why I did this to you?" He sounded as though he was trying to pick his words carefully. Maybe he felt there should be some show involved in this.

"What exactly did you do to me?" I couldn't help but ask. I had no idea. Not really. Like I said, I didn't remember anything from my life before this new one. And perhaps all my common knowledge of the world around me had vanished as well. "If you don't mind me asking." I added quickly, upon seeing his face. It hadn't changed. There's something scary about people when there face remains calm all the time.

"I made you a child of the night. A walking corpse. A blood drinker." He realized these were all far too dramatic and shrugged. It was a graceful gesture. Something about it impressed me...it seemed very supernatural, yet very human at the same time. I wanted to shrug like him. "A vampire."

"Vampire." I repeated, almost in a hypnotic trance. "Oh..."

"You're not...unhappy?" He waited for a reaction. I blinked at him, with pale eyes. "Angry? Irritated? Scared? Confused?"

"Um...well...to tell you the truth sir..." I was calling him sir because I had forgotten his name and thought it'd be rude to ask. After all, the man knew my name and he had turned me into a vampire. I vaguely wondered if I could now turn into a bat. Best to ask that later. "I don't really remember what a vampire is..."

"Really?" He looked a little concerned, and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "It can do that sometimes-the transformation that is. Sometimes it can be too much for someone, the pain and all, and they forget a lot...do you remember who you are?"

"Yes," I said, without stopping to ponder the question. "I'm Liam Lorenz..."

"Good, at least you remember that. Perhaps it's better you forgot about your past life...maybe this will all be easier on you. I can teach you things better." He smiled at me, and there was something sadistic about it. "I suppose you really have no idea why I turned you, do you?"

"Not at all sir..." I muttered.

"I'll tell you why. I need a companion. And I want a lover. You are going to be both Liam. Eternity can be very lonely." He said.

"Eternity..." I whispered to myself, trying to figure out what it meant. It didn't matter then. I shrugged, trying to look as graceful as he did. Sure, I'd be his companion and lover. I was up to anything.

---

Over the years, Archeras taught me a lot about being a vampire. About ridiculous human myths, how I couldn't trust other vamps, how to hunt humans. Though we never killed. I wanted to, but he wouldn't let me. We'd drink from the lowest of low, prostitutes and murderers and rapists. They deserved to die. Or at least I thought they did. But he wouldn't let me take human life. He told me it wasn't fair, they only had a handful of years. To take it away now was unjust.

I couldn't turn into a bat. I found that out relatively quick. And the only way I would die is if the sun's light touched me. Or at least that's what he thought. He knew fire and stakes to the heart and getting heads cut off and garlic didn't work. They had all been tried on him at least once. And here he was, still alive, intact. We couldn't change shape, or read minds or fly. We were stronger than normal humans though. Graceful and faster, and I acquired a trait Archeras did not have. I could be very seductive, and I could make the biting very pleasurable, like making love. It was a handy talent, really.

I was never in love with Archeras. We fucked and got along fine. But I was never in love with him. And I doubt he was ever under the illusion that I was. And one day, he decided he was sick of just doing me, so he turned someone else. A girl-one of the prostitutes we fed on. She was lovely, as far as women went, with coffee colored hair and hazel eyes. Her name was Autumn. We found ourselves becoming friends very fast. Though "friends" isn't quite the word for it. We were more companions then Archeras had ever been to either of us.

Autumn agreed with me on the feeding thing. She thought it was ridiculous not to kill them as well. The humans, the ones we fed on, were miserable and prayed for death everyday. It was a mercy. She knew, she had been one of them.

Archeras still refused. He believed it was cruel.

And then one day Autumn and I killed him. I don't really know how. She, Autumn, did most of it. I just let it happen.

It's really not as horrible as it sounds. He was old-too old...no one should be that old. And he didn't put up much of fight...whatever Autumn did. I just know it involved the sun and blood and then finally fire. And Archeras was nothing but ash.

I've never been proud of what we did. She was for a moment, but quickly regretted it. We could have just as easily left him. We both knew he wouldn't follow. He'd just turn someone else. But Autumn had felt the need to destroy him, her creator, and I went along with it.

So he was dead and we were alone, two fledglings that only knew so much. We didn't know what to do. But we agreed on one thing-we'd end the lives of the miserable souls who wandered the streets and did evil. To us, it sounded a lot more merciful then it ever really was. We wanted to be angels of death, those who spared the just and destroyed the wicked. But no one should be aloud to decide who lives and who dies. It's something I didn't know then, but know now.

We stayed together for a very long time. We were never lovers, I had no interest in her that way. And then one day we decided to give it a rest, and that people were getting far too suspicious of so many deaths to the scum of this earth. We went our separate ways, though not very far. It would take a few hours to reach each other, if needed. We had no one else after all.

So my life...er...unlife went on. I stalked the night and fed on those that were down on their luck. By then though, I had begun to feel bad for the fragile little creatures. I gave them a chance to redeem themselves in my eyes before they met their deaths. I would bring them home with me, men and women, for it didn't matter, it was just blood. I would talk with them for a while, sometimes hours, and learn what I could of them. Some of them were positively dreadful and died swiftly. Others had children to care for, lives. Those were the ones who I let go. I gave them more money then they had asked for, and we didn't fuck. I had no desire to.

I took in a few lovers over time. None of them meant much to me-I couldn't let them. I wouldn't tell them what I was. But somehow most of them found out. And they'd, of course, try to kill me. Or beg for the gift. I never gave it to them. I never viewed it as a curse, but I didn't believe any of them worthy of it. And I always killed the ones who had tried to kill me.

And then I met Kaz. He was barely sixteen then, a whore like so many other of the children with no families. Addicted to meth and anorexic, but still fucking beautiful. He was always beautiful. I knew from the moment I saw him though, that he'd die anyway. Why not do it for him? I knew he had nothing to live for, nothing he would contribute to society.

I brought him home with me. He was nervous and scared, I could tell. Or at least I thought he looked that way. He was a really lovely boy. His hair was dark, nearly black, and his eyes were an odd color that looked amethyst-almost purple and his skin was pale, though not as pale as mine. He had a nice voice, though I could imagine he didn't talk much. He probably used his pretty little mouth for other things more then not.

I asked him some things about himself. It was painfully obvious he was confused as to what I wanted. He must have thought it was some sort of game, or something. Eventually, I assured him it wasn't and he seemed to have an easier time answering my questions.

His name was Kaz, and he had no idea what his last name was. His mother had been a whore and ended up killing herself when he was 5. He had no idea who his father was, and eventually found himself on the streets with other little homeless children. He really had no choice but become a whore. And from what I could tell he had been being pimped out for a long time, by some drug dealer who had made it his business to help out pedaphiles. Considering he had never gone to school, he was incredibly smart. I was impressed.

He didn't like himself very much. He hated what he did-all of it. He said the only thing he was good at was painting.

"I'm not going to be the next Andy Warhol or anything...but I'm still pretty good." He admited.

"Who wants to be Andy Warhol anyway?" I asked, smiling a little. He didn't smile very much either. "I'd like to see some of your work some day."

"I don't really have any." He muttered.

"Oh, I see..." I said. I didn't stop smiling.

"...Are you going to kill me?" The way he said it made it sound like normal conversation or something.

"Er..." I must admit, I was taken back by the question. They didn't usually ask that. Sometimes you could see it in their eyes-see the fear, smell the anticipation on their skin like sweet perfume. But they didn't ask. Why was this boy asking the question so many of them hadn't?

"What makes you think I'd do that?" I didn't want to flat out lie to him.

"People don't care about whores. They don't bother asking what their names are or why they're getting fucked or fucking someone. We don't have anyone but eachother. We notice when the others go missing. And I'm not stupid enough to think you care about me or any of them. You've been killing them, haven't you?" He looked at me, with eyes wise beyond his years. I realized I really didn't want to lie to this boy. I didn't want to kill him either.

"Yes, I have." I said, meeting his gaze. "But I'm not going to kill you Kaz." He name sounded foreign on my tongue.

"You can," He said softly, moving closer to me on the bed. "You can kill me if you want. I don't care. You can have my throat." He bared his pale, pale throat to me. I swallowed. Did he know? How could he know?

"You offer me your...why?" I asked.

"You can slit it if you want. Or cut out my heart. I don't care. I'll die soon anyway. I'd rather you do it." He said.

"Kaz," His name again. I never used their names. "I don't want to kill you."

"Why not?" He almost sounded like he was demanding a reason.

"I don't know, I just..." I swallowed again, as though there was something hard and lumpy lodged in my throat. He was so close. I wanted nothing more then to tear at the flesh on his pretty neck and drink up all his blood. "I want you to go now." I said, sternly.

"I don't want to leave." He said. "Why don't you kill me? I'm worthless. Or...am I not good enough to die by you?"

"Kaz, please, I really don't want to-"

"Please," The gap between us was closed and he was hugging my close to him, his head against my chest. "Please, just do it. I don't want to be here any more."

For a moment I considered it. He wanted to die so badly...who was I to deny him of such a thing? But I couldn't do it...there was something about him...I didn't know what it was though.

"I want you to leave. Now." I tried to get the authority back into my voice, though it cracked and wavered violently. He let go of me a little, so he could look me in the eyes.

"Why won't you do it? I'm offering myself to you." His voice was dangerously quiet.

"You want a quick death? A certain death? Is that it?" I snarled, pushing him the rest of the way off of me. He glared at me, but didn't say anything. "I won't give that to you. I'll keep you in my basement, chained up and bloody and wishing you were dead. And I'll leave you there for weeks, where it'll be cold and empty and lonely and you'll starve away to nothing. And when I no longer find any use for you, I'll finally kill you. But it won't be quick. I'll cut out your heart, while you're still breathing, slowly with a dull knife. Is that what you want?"

I had never done any such thing, mind you. Whatever had kept me from lying to him before vanished with this urge to protcet him from...me. I wasn't going to let him die because of my thirst. I'd find someone else. Someone I didn't feel the need to protect.

"...I don't want to leave." He said, heartbreakingly sad.

"I want you to. Just go...while you still can." I barked. He stared at me for what seemed like eons, though it was only a minute. Hundreds of years were stole away in that one glance. He kissed me, running his hand along the side of my face, and left. I thought I'd never see him again. I went out that night and drank from a man who tried to kill me for my wallet. His blood was filthy and tasted of alcohol and painkillers and cocaine. I hated the man. But anything was better then killing the boy.

And then, nearly two weeks later, he came back. It was a miserable night and when he came to me he was wet and cold and sick looking, shaking from the rain and lack of drugs in his system. He begged me to kill him again. I didn't understand why he wanted me to do it, why he didn't just do it himself. But here he was, silent tears running down his cheeks, strands of his pretty hair in his face. His voice was stern though, thorough and strong. He knew what he wanted and he refused to leave before I agreed to it.

I decided I would. I would kill him. The morality I had almost never had was seeping into my veins and screaming in my ears. Just do it. End it for him. Do it because you feel something for him. It's a mercy.

I let him in and let him warm up. We talked a little and I brought him to the bedroom, because that's where it always happened.

"Thank you," He said, eyes wide and dead. It's a cliche, but that's what they were. Not empty, but filled with something that was eroding and decaying with time. Innocence? No, that couldn't be it, he'd lost that long ago. It would be nothing by now. No, it was something else. Something like his humanity. I found more of a kindred spirit looking in Kaz's eyes then I had with any of my kind, any of my lovers or friends or the other whores of the streets. I found myself in his eyes and that frightened me.

Because I was a monster and I did not want this boy to be one.

"Don't thank me." I whispered, my lips at his throat, which was fine because I held a knife in my hand. His pulse beat rapidly, and I could see it pounding under his skin. I could almost taste it in my mouth and I wanted it more then I had ever wanted anything. I kissed along his neck lightly and-

I fucked him. Somewhere along the way, my newly found morale took a detour and I decided it was more of a mercy to have sex with him then kill him. Funny how that works.

Either way, he was mine then. I helped him as well as I could, and I think I did a damn good job. He lived with me for a while, but then got his own apartment. He didn't want to be a burden. Which was fine, I could bring victims back with me again. Though I had stopped killing them again. It wouldn't be right to say he changed me, it wasn't just him. It was the fact that I didn't kill him. It intrigued me and frightened me and I shared this with Autumn, whom I talked to on and off. She found in interesting as well.

"Maybe they're not as awful as we thought." She mused, her voice its usual tranquil. "Maybe we were wrong."

"Too late to repent?" I asked.

"Never too late to repent. Though it wouldn't be in the true sense." She sighed, and I could hear the thoughtfulness in her voice. "We're not gods Liam. Not like we've always thought. We're just like them, just a little harder to kill and a little higher on the food chain."

"I never thought we were a gods." More or less I never thought of myself as a god.

Kaz and I were happy for a while. I loved him more then I had ever loved anything and I thought he loved me.

Then he tried to kill me...

---

Kaz didn't move as much as I thought he would have, as I slowly eased his wrists down and held him in my arms. His blood was metallic and sweet, and I loved it almost as much as I loved him. He didn't make a sound, except for the slightest of whimpers as my fangs first ripped at his skin. It was enough to break my tired black heart, enough to make me forgive him.

But I couldn't now. I was almost done.

When I finished drinking his blood (and it was hard to draw my mouth away from his pale throat, believe me) he was half-dead. His pretty eyes looked blankly at me, and his lips were parted, but only a little. This didn't feel so right any more, but I knew it was.

"Kaz, can you hear me?" If he couldn't, it was over and he was dead. Luckily, he opened his mouth a little to say something, closed it again, and nodded a little. Good. I hadn't expected him to talk anyway. "Good, now listen to me. I'm going to cut my wrist open, and I need you to drink my blood. If you don't, you're going to die for good. Do you understand?" He gave another half-hearted nod. If he didn't hate me already, he did now.

I brought my wrist to my mouth and gashed it open with my teeth. Blood welled and oozed, dripping on to everything. I brought it to his mouth, and had to force it open a little. He licked at the blood lightly at first, letting it drop into his mouth, and running his tongue over the cut. But before long, he was sucking on the wound.

It hurt. The worst part was, I didn't know when to make him stop. I didn't want to give him too little and I didn't want him to take too much. I finally decided he had enough when he was strong enough to grab on to my arm and bring it to him. The pain was immense then.

I got my wrist free eventually, rather pushing him off of me. He was breathing heavily, scarlet staining his fair skin. My wrist was still bleeding badly, so I grabbed the sheet covering the make-shift bed and wrapped it around it. It would heal soon enough, but I didn't want to risk loosing too much blood. I might have to feed again. And I really didn't want to.

The blood smeared around his mouth was driving me mad. I wanted to lick it off. So badly. But I didn't think he would let me.

"...What did you do to me?" He murmured, sounding more like the Kaz I knew. I didn't really know what to tell him. So I shrugged a little.

"I made you what you fear. I made you like me." I told him. His amethyst eyes blazed with something I hadn't seen until now.

"Liam, I'm not afraid of you." His voice was stern. He sounded very much like my Kaz then. Arrogant.

"You're not any more..." I noted.

"I was never-"

"Then what the hell was that a few minutes ago?" I asked, a little angrily.

"That was different. I wasn't afraid of you...I thought you were dead." He said.

"You knew it wouldn't work." I stated, trying to sound cold. Even when he tried to kill me, I couldn't help but love the boy.

"How would I-"

"I wonder...did you ever dream of me? Did you ever think of me when I was burnt to a crisp in a body bag, about to be dissected by a mortician?" I was very angry now. "Because I dreamt of you. I thought of you, my love. I thought of how happy you must be to have killed me, brave at last, finally superior to me. I dreamt of what it would be like to see you again, how I would kill you. But when I was coming here, I knew that wasn't what I wanted, not really. I don't want you dead Kaz. Not the technical dead anyway. The me kind of dead. I want you still, as much as I hate to admit it. But I did kill you. And I'm going to leave you here while your body dies. I assure you, it's very painful. By the end, you'll wish you were dead. And then I'll come back for you, and you'll be very thirsty and beg for my blood. But I won't give it to you. I'll take you with me, to where ever I find to live, and keep you in the basement or a room, chained up.

"I'm afraid I've never been very good with pets, so I imagine you won't be fed very often. And you'll probably go a little crazy, I admit that. But that'll probably be for the best. And whenever I forgive you, I'll unchain you and you'll be free to go. Though I expect by that time you're not going to want to go very far." I flashed my wicked grin at him again. He looked a little frightened, but he had some new confidence now. Where it had come from, I have no idea. Maybe he wasn't afraid of me any more, knowing I wasn't going to mutilate him. Or cut out his heart with a very dull knife.

"Liam..." He paused and closed his eyes for a long time. I suspected the poison from my blood was beginning to take effect. "Liam, I love you. I have since the day we met, and I still do. Please," His amethyst eyes were more sincere now then I had ever seen them. Glittering purple in the pale night. "Don't do this. I really am sorry."

"You've always been such a very good actor Kaz." I sighed and, even though I probably shouldn't have, I licked at the blood around his mouth. He shivered under my touch. "But I don't believe you."

"Liam-" Whatever he was going to say, stopped abruptly. He began coughing up blood, thick and dark red, nearly black in the dim light.

"Ah, so it begins." I mused. He convulsed a little, but not much. It was just beginning. It always started like that in the beginning.

He stopped coughing, his palid hands covered in blood. Some mine, some his. He looked up at me, with a look I had never seen before. Something in between regret and pain. Something that screamed "help me" or "fuck me" depending. This was a "help me" occasion.

"Am I going to die?" He whispered. It made me think he hadn't really been listening to my threat, no, promise, but that was alright.

"Yes..." The cool, calculating tone I had managed to stay at all night wavered. And I was whispering softly to him, like a child who only had a few hours to live. "But only for a little while."

"Oh," Was all he said, before he began coughing up thick blood again. And despite myself, I held him to me and told him things in hushed tones, things I didn't really mean and things I did. Things you tell your lover after you've had sex. Only this was nothing like sex.

And damn it all to hell if I didn't stay all night with Kaz, as he vomited blood and convulsed and seizured and his insides transformed into something different.

And when the sickness had passed, and he was weak from the transformation and thirsty, I let him drink my blood again. He knew when he had taken enough this time though.

"I really wish you would believe me." He said, as we lay on the mattress in his windowless room, as the sun was high and up, my arms around his small figure. I wasn't tired. Not really. "I didn't set the house on fire because I was afraid of you. I thought you were leaving me for him."

"Kaz," I said. We were both covered in blood and soot and chipped off pieces of my skin and clothing. I really needed to change. I also really needed a shower. But, for some reason unknown to the likes of me, the bathroom in his apartment had a bloody window in it. Small as it was, it was in the shower and I didn't want to risk it.

"Kaz, if you want me to believe you, tell me something truthfully. Did you really think the fire would kill me?" I asked. He sighed and got as close to me as possible, nuzzling his head into my burnt chest. Of course, either way, he really didn't have an excuse for trying to kill me. I reminded myself of that.

"No..." He said finally. "I knew it wouldn't...I don't know what I was thinking."

"You weren't thinking." I told him. He didn't disagree.

"You really need to take a shower, you know that?" He muttered into my skin. I glared at him a little, but began to stroke his hair anyway.

"Yea, thanks to you." I growled. He looked at me a smiled a little, beautiful even with the little dashes of black from my skin and the gashes of scarlet across his face. I didn't know how he could smile, considering he set a house on fire with me in it. And I didn't know how I could smile considering he set fire to a house with me in it, but I was anyway.

It was like the ending to a D horror movie. Everything was okay, because we were still alive.

But I knew I'd still be pissed off at him at dusk, if only a little. And he'd still be feeling guilty and kind of scared and probably a little sick.

And I'd be damned to hell and become Satan's bitch if I wasn't going to keep to my promise and find a basement and chain him to the wall.

Even if it was only for a few hours.

AUTHOR NOTES:

...I'd like to state for the record I absolutely hate this story and the only reason it's on here is because the lovely Miss Clowie insisted upon it -.-

The ending's awful. I'll admit to that. But it was the only way I could get this monster over without dragging it out for another 20 pages or making it sad. It's kind of a parody too I guess...I'm sure of what, but it's mocking something. Hmm...

I wrote this over the course of a few months so if it seems...I don't know...not...well...flowing...er...then that's why.

Definantly not the worst thing I've ever written (is unfortunatly reminded of Slither) but definantly not the best.

Oh well, I'll live.

Review please! With constructive criticism or whatever but please...be gentle o.o I won't take any flames like a man for this one. I'll run around screaming and bleeding all over.

Umm...

That didn't turn out right.

Anyway, this is for Clowie...cuz she made me put it on here and was the first (and up until now) only person to read it.