It was a quiet day. Rain fell slowly outside the house, rhythmic muffled pattering that one wouldn't notice unless one was listening for it. It was background noise.

A man was inside the house, his concentration focused on the note he was writing. He was rather attractive, if a little better than average appearance. His tan brown hair that- if brushed down- would fall into his blue eyes that were cold and empty. He was a shell of his younger self, a wraith of a time long past. Those who had once known him were dead; age, disease, or tragedy had killed them long ago.

What he wrote was a mystery for he crumpled up the paper and tossed it into the fire that was crackling a few feet away. Frustrated, he stood up from his seat and walked over to the mantle. Staring into the flames, he watched as the tongues of fire devoured the paper till it was only a pile of black ash. Sighing, he smacked his palm against the mantle as he made a decision and went outside.

He strode into the rain, bare feet splashing as he walked through puddles that reflected the grim sky above till he sloshed through them.

He went into the small shed at the edge of the woods, slamming the door behind him. The inside was dark, musty, and silent. Till there came the sound of a lighter flicking and then a bright flame cut through the darkness.

His cold eyes illuminated by the warm flame, the man lowered the lighter till it reflected in the wide eyes of the other person who lay huddled against the furthest corner of the shed. It was the girl that had been brought to him the night before and she sat shivering. The bonds that held her kept her from going anywhere.

"Look," he started, "it's not safe. You go from here and don't come back. Ever. When they ask what happened, I'll tell them you died of fear." As he spoke, he untied the girl, ignoring her brown-eyed look of confusion. Helping her stand, he took off the sweater he wore over the plain white t-shirt and gave it to her.

Numbly, she pulled it on over her tank top. The rest of her clothing, jeans and Converse, were muddy and full of holes and scratches.

"They are still going to be hungry but with the rain you should be able to get away without being followed by the scent of your life." He opened the shed door and stood in the opening, waiting for her.

Finally finding her voice, the girl brushed her messy dark hair from her eyes, "Why are you helping me? Why not just suck my blood like the others intend to?"

The vampire shrugged, stepping from the doorway to place the extinguished lighter in her palm, "Call it a stupid sense of nostalgia." He grinned, revealing extended canines.

She stared at him, as if memorizing his features so she could later recognize him if they ever met again. But with any luck, that would never happen. She reached a decision and gave a single nod. Her fingers closed around the lighter and she strode into the rain, across the yard, only to pause at the edge of the woods to look back.

Across the distance, their eyes met. His cold blue eyes locked with her warm brown ones.

Then she turned and was lost within the trees. Gone.

He closed the shed door, walked back to his house, and went inside. Standing by the fire, he dried off and changed into a dry pair of jeans and another white t-shirt. He then picked up another blank piece of paper and began to write.

The paper said, "I have never cared about whom I ate. Men, women, children, they were only food. I was wrong to think that way. So I have tried to right my wrongs, if by saving only one life. Forgive me for what I'm about to-"

A knock on his door made him pause. Lowering his pen, he walked to the door and put a hand on the knob. Was it the girl? Had she come back?!

He opened it. Another man stood there in the rain, the water dripping down the newcomer's face. Like the first, his eyes were an empty blue and he was rather attractive. "Where is she?" He asked, his eyes full of anger, "Owen, where is the girl?! She's not in the shed!"

Owen, the one inside the house, shrugged, "As good as dead to you, Ka'rel."

Ka'rel snarled and said as magic fizzed between his fingers, "You'll be sorry."

Without hesitation, Owen took out the silver blade he'd intended to use to end his own life and drove it through Kar'el's heart.

Ka'rel stared at the blade protruding from his chest, disbelieving, as the magic fizzed out from between his fingers. Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he was dead on his feet, pitching forward.

Owen caught his body and took it around the back and buried it. Along with the unfinished note. His problem was solved, he had a dead body and an unmarked grave as proof, until the next sacrifice that is.

He took a locket out of his pocket and opened it as he stood in the rain, soaked yet again. Inside the iron symbol was a picture of a girl that looked a lot like the one he had freed. He smiled down at the girl, who wore outdated clothing, and felt a peace settle over him. He snapped shut the little rusty metallic heart and went back inside.

It was a quiet day, after all.