GFD: Nightfall - 2. Chapter 2 - "The Night In Question"

I opened the door and walked down the dark steps into the heated basement below. With Patrick not talking to me, and Mr. Talbot shutting me out, I suppose that I was going to be alone with my thoughts until dawn. For a vampire, especially one that doesn't even want to BE a vampire...being alone with your thoughts can be more a form of torture than a meditation. I suppose that is the consequence for my despicable acts. I should have expected that. But they should have expected it as well. It's not like this is a surprise. They knew the plan from day one. They don't understand. They don't know what it's like. In a few days, I'll be dead, and they'll be able to continue on with their human lives as though none of this ever happened. They have the opportunity, the blessing, to forget. I don't. Vengeance is all I have left to live for. All I have left to fight for. All I have left to die for. And I can't rest until it's done. If they refuse to understand the depths of my hatred....then so be it. Just so long as they don't try to get in my way.

I spent hours in that basement that night. Staring at the wall. A grin on my lips from the memory of Duffy's untimely demise. He never saw it coming, did he? He never knew that tonight would be his last night on Earth. Good! That's exactly how I felt when they murdered me. I hope he was conscious long enough to reflect on how it must have felt for me, having the world drained from my main arteries in big sickening gulps. My only regret is that he is now at peace....and I still have much work left to do before I can join him.

Over and over. The thoughts repeated themselves. I wanted to escape them once and for all. The repetition...I wanted to bash in the sides of my head with my own fists and rid myself of the images. But they always returned. Always.

When the dawn finally came, I felt my limbs get stiff, and my mind began to wander aimlessly through whatever random information it had absorbed throughout the day. I laid down on the mattress Mr. Talbot had given me to sleep on, and allowed myself to, once again, be drawn into the ether. To dream.

I remembered how it used to be...seeing the sun in all it's brilliance. Standing on the high school soccer field, finding every given opportunity I could to look at the legs of the boys around me. Long, smooth, strong. I used to lick the back of my teeth and pretend that it was their inner thigh as I saw them running up and down that field, lost in the sports minded goal of the game. To say that I was boy crazy would be an understatement. If only half of them knew what lewd and sensual thoughts were running through my head at the mere sight of them, they would have banned me from their activities for good. And then....there was Patrick. A boy that I had always admired, but never really expected him to feel anything in the way of true affection for me. I had it locked into my mindset that boys that gorgeous just aren't gay. It didn't seem possible. They were to be fantasized about and then left alone. Good for a blush, a couple of nervous jitters, and the occasional wet dream....but that was the beginning and the end of it. Even wishful thinking seemed as if it could only be followed by the cruelest of heartbreaks. Wow...I had almost forgotten how amazing Patrick looked in daylight. With the sun shining through those silken strands of gold ringlets, and his eyes sparkling with the youthful charm of a priceless crystal, discovered for the first time. They were so amazingly blue and surprisingly green, that the combined charm of the extreme color scheme would catch you off guard every time you caught sight of them. His beauty was an impressive novelty that never wore off. Never ceased to leave you speechless with its purity, even though he wielded that weapon with an unconscious level of grace that gave it an almost surreal sense of rarity. I remember thinking that there certainly couldn't be another boy in existence quite like him. That existence itself simply couldn't handle two of them. So very strange that I think about that now.

Things started off as a friendship between us. With me trying to hold back an inevitable crush and him just returning my cheery advances with a smile. It was safe. It made sense. I knew I wanted to be around him, he knew he wanted to be around me. Being friends and spending time with each other seemed almost normal for the first few months. But things grew from there...and we both knew that this 'friendship' of ours wasn't as uncomplicated as we would have liked to believe. Not by a long shot.

I'm thankful for it though. If weren't for him wanting me in return, I never would have spent so much time here in this house when I was alive. I never would have met his father. And his father...never would have recognized me that night in the alley...bringing me back here to complete my crossover into darkness. I suppose that fate was on my side long before turning against me.

I drifted into a deeper slumber, my body turning colder than before, as the rising sun sapped the energy from me and forced my body to shut down. My thoughts began to darken, the lovely dream around me began to rip itself apart, and soon, thoughts of Patrick's love disappeared. Only the terrifying memory of that bloody night was left to take its place.

The mental dance begins again. Block it out. I don't want to think about this. If only I could scrub it out of my mind's eye once and for all.

I could clearly remember the crispness of the air, the shuffle of dirty snow beneath my feet, and the faint sound of muffled Christmas music coming from outdoor speakers at the half empty gas station down at the end of the next block. I didn't even know they had been watching me for the past half hour. They had read my mind....targeted my weaknesses...and took full advantage of the moment. I'll never forget that boy's smile. Not ever. Vincent was his name. He was the one who took the time to butter me up that night. To guide me towards trusting every word he said to me. To lure me into that alley where the others were waiting in the shadows. He was beautiful. Impossibly beautiful. His looks might have even rivaled Patrick's at the time. I don't know why I followed, or why I was even interested. I had a boyfriend already. I was happy. Perhaps my ego was properly stroked by the idea of yet another gorgeous boy taking an interest in me. My hormones got the better of my common sense. I suppose I was just curious. Patrick was my only sexual outlet at the time. The passionate thoughts haunted me from the moment he flashed me that first smile in the club. What would this hottie do differently? You know? I was intrigued. A sad mistake...and my undoing.

"Come on, it's just a little bit further. Come on! Hehehe! Don't be scared." Vincent told me, his ruby lips turned up in a sweet but sinister smile. "It's just down this alley." I remember how cold it was that night. I should have gone home. I should have just turned around and gone on with my life. But I followed him. I followed him.....and before I was even able to process what was going on, it was too late. I was trapped.

The initial blow to the back of my head was so unexpected that I had already fallen to my knees before actually feeling any pain. There was no time to scream. No chance to run. He rendered me completely helpless in an instant, and the others soon crept forward out of the shadows to make sure they got a piece of me. My vision was blurry, but I knew blood when I saw it dripping freely down into the snow as I crawled aimlessly on all fours. My hands sinking into the slush, my fingers sore from the frigid feel of it. It seemed that my directionless attempt to slowly scramble to safety only added to their amusement, and the faint sound of restrained snickers and giggles could be heard coming from behind me.

"Fuck, man! You hit the kid pretty hard! Hehehe, you're wasting our 'dinner' all over the street!" Said one of them.

"He's cute. Aww, Vincent....such a waste." Said a female voice.

"Do you want a bite of him or not? Dig in!"

"Give me a minute. I've gotta write this down. If I feed today, then I can go without more for...at least another three weeks, I think..."

So many voices...I was so dizzy. So helpless.

"I got first dibbs on his throat! You four can grab whatever you want!" Vincent told them as he grabbed my ankle and effortlessly yanked me backwards. He held me still from behind, his hand pulling my head savagely to the side. Bearing his fangs with a hiss. How did I get there? How did it all happen so fast? I remember their wicked grins as they approached me from all sides. Each one of them took a piece of me to suck from. Filling their bellies with my essence. The pain...had it not been for my body going into shock, I assume that it would have been much worse. But even with the shock...it was like nothing I had ever experienced before. Or since.

The first to bite me was Vincent, their tribe leader. He sank his fangs into my neck and began to suck hungrily at the wound while I helplessly tried to wrestle my way loose. It was so unreal...being drained. Feeling the blood leave your body, pint after pint. Feeling your head getting light with an indescribable dizziness...your body turning to ice, starting in your fingers and toes and traveling throughout your shivering frame with an unstoppable wave of numbness. The fear actually melts away rather quickly once the drain begins. I can't explain it, but it was as if a part of me began to enjoy it. I was even aroused by it. There was this scent that they released into the air around me, and it got to be stronger as they did the evil deed. It was a natural part of the vampire's hunting techniques. A pheromone...almost like an invisible euphoric mist. It worked to calm me. Forcing me to willingly give my life over to the darkness of death. I swear I can still feel Vincent's teeth...piercing my flesh and vacuuming the life right out of my body with every heavy swallow.

The next to bite me was Barry. The muscle headed jock asshole who helped to hold me down when I tried to get back on my feet. He was one of those bulky 18 year old football types with no class, no neck, and no brains. But somehow, his strength made up for it, and he took a big juicy bite out of my right bicep...causing me to scream in agony as he fed upon my liquids without mercy.

Then came Trixie...a girl my age who was dressed like a 21 year old stripper if anything. Dark clothes, fishnet stockings, glossy lipstick, black spiked heels, with hair dyed a deep shade of purple. A girl who more resembled a full blown dominatrix than a teenager. She yanked my pants down and bit deeply into my left inner thigh as I leaned against Vincent's chest, who still had his fangs firmly submerged in my throat from behind.

It was the full bodied goth girl, Carolyn, who took the next bite. She was short and stocky, heavy in build, with medium length brown hair and extremely pale skin. Black make up and lipstick, made up to look like the walking dead....but, you know...fashionable. Her wide frame spread my legs out further, and she bit deeply into the meat of my right calf muscle, getting whatever she could get from me while the others took their turns murdering me from different angles.

Vincent stopped briefly to say, "Spaz, what are you doing? Get over here already before the blood runs cold! We're not hunting again tonight, so you might as well get your fix now." My eyes slowly rolled over to look in his direction as I was held up, spread eagle for them to consume me alive. Just as he had finished his 'spice deal' and gotten his merchandise, it was the waifish, hippie looking, Spaz that took the next taste of me. He had to write down all the details of what he bought, and then folded the notebook into his pocket before approaching. He first bit me on the shoulder, then the arm, then the wrist...then finding a better artery, he bit the inside of my arm and let his fangs rest there. I could feel the beginnings of his 17 year old stubble on my arm. Funny that I took notice of that. I had never known that such pain could exist in this world....not until they showed me the way.

"DAMN! This boy is SWEET! You ain't far from being a virgin, are ya kid?" Barry taunted.

"This is primo!" Carolyn said, drinking heavily. Duffy was standing nearby, beginning to fidget impatiently.

"Keep watch!" Vincent snarled, watching Duffy as he tried to inch his way out of the alley. He just wanted to go back to the club to do more business that night. He couldn't care less about my life.

"C'mon man! I ain't down with this shit! You're gonna get us all in a heap of trouble! I've got SPICE on me, man! I can't get caught with this shit! Do you know what the Elders do to cats who deal Spice? Huh?" He whispered loudly.

"Just keep your eyes open and tell us if somebody's coming. Got it?" Vincent demanded, and when Duffy didn't answer, "GOT IT???"

"ALRIGHT! Alright! Jesus....just...hurry up! I've got shit to do tonight!" He answered. I remember that my eyes met his for a moment, and as my body was too limp and too weak for me to struggle anymore, I tried my best to whisper out for him to help me. To DO something. To SPARE me the pain of having my fucking LIFE stolen from me at the tender age of seventeen! But instead...he turned away. He simply turned away. "Shit, man...hurry up and bleed this kid already! I don't like watching this shit!"

"Do you wanna bite?" Trixie asked him with a bloodstained smile.

"No thanks. You guys only left me one appendage to suck from, and I ain't looking forward to putting it in my mouth." Duffy answered.

He was my only chance to be saved. My only chance. And when he didn't assist me, a part of me gave up. My human instinct to survive had been compromised. Instead....embracing the idea that the intense pain will stop if I just....let go. And let go I did. Despite the loss of my life and the horror of the situation....fading to black that night was truly a deep sigh of relief for me. No more pain. No more pain.

I quickly woke up from the dream with a gasp, and found myself alone in the basement. It took a few minutes of me rubbing my eyes and ignoring my paranoid thoughts to remember where I was. Damn....those vampire dreams seem to get more and more real every time I have one. Dreaming can be a terrifying experience when your senses are pulling in the details of your waking life with an intensity a hundred times more powerful than they would if you were still human. I stood up with a stretch, feeling my body crack and loosen up gradually from the day's hibernation. The days pass so swiftly now. And yet...the nights seem to last forever. I brushed my hair out of my eyes, and went into the small functioning bathroom under the steps. I washed up, fixed my face, and took a good long look at myself in the mirror. My eyes were glowing. Gold this time. They only turn red when my more violent instincts take over. I'll always miss their natural color. I'll never get the chance to see my own eyes ever again. I never felt so uncomfortable in my own skin before. It was like a curse to be alive. To be aware. Feeling this...this....sickness in my veins. Prolonging my torture by creating the illusion of life in this walking corpse of a teenage body. It was the look of my own reflection that prepared me for what I was about to do. It kept the hatred strong, adding fuel to the fire in my heart, and reminding me just what the rage felt like. And why it was necessary to keep it with me at all times. Focus. Got to stay focused. Push the thoughts out of you head. Stop thinking about it. Stop it. STOP!

I heard the door open upstairs, and the sound of footsteps walking down to the basement. It was Mr. Talbot, his confident stride entering my habitat. He brought a bundle of clothes down with him. The same clothes that I had given him a few nights before....after my monthly feeding. I never thought that a tourist could bleed so much. It covered me from head to toe, I barely made it home without getting spotted. I've got to remember to carry extra clothes with me when I go out. It's hard to block such thoughts from your own mind. The last thing I want is to turn the murder of innocent civilians into something 'practical'.

Yes, I have fed. I have to. The pains of going dry without a fresh blood supply are unbearable. I've become the very thing that I hate. But I had to be ready. I had to survive just long enough to prepare myself to hunt every last one of them down and pa them back for what they did. How insane am I? How is it that my thoughts can travel in such strange circles?

Mr. Talbot was a wise man, with a thin shade of stubble on his face, and a warm voice. Well built, police officer type, with the same piercing bluish green eyes that his son possessed, only they had been hardened over time. He set the clothes down in a chair for me and gave me a halfhearted smirk. "I heard you moving around down here, I figured you were up and might want your clothes back."

"Are they clean?" I asked.

"One hundred percent. Although, I suggest you budget yourself for new clothes when you feed. Slag Hunter patrol is excellent at getting rid of any and all bloodstains when I take them in...but they're going to think it's rather strange for me to keep washing the blood out of a teenager's fits." He said.

"Don't worry. If everything goes to plan, I won't be hunting again. Not anymore." I took the clothes from the chair and went to slip the shirt on over my head.

"Right...." Mr. Talbot almost sounded sad when he said it. The kind of hidden sadness that someone develops when trying to talk to a terminally ill patient, but is attempting to keep up a brave front for them regardless.

"I figure they're all spread out around the city right now, but they'll be in contact soon." I said, busying myself with making the bed. "They're pack hunters, but I'm pretty sure they split up into separate places when they're not feeding." I said. "They have to feed more often because they share their take. I'm thinking every three weeks or so, but when they all get together and jump on the same prey, they can easily drain it completely before moving on. It's a short term fix for the hunger, but they never have to worry about the odds. Together they can overpower just about anybody, but on their own, I'm pretty sure that I can take them out, one by one. I just have to prevent them from ganging up on me."

He watched me as I fluffed the pillows. "'Pack hunters', huh? I see you've been reading my slag hunter handbooks again."

I kept moving, making sure that I didn't have to look into his accusing eyes. "I had to learn everything that I could. I want to know what I'm up against."

"Believe me...I know those handbooks backwards and forwards. I've studied every line, every diagram, every passage, and I can assure you...you'll never know what you're up against. I speak from years of experience."

"They're not so tough. They're a weak breed who take advantage of unsuspecting victims who are younger and smaller than they are. It's time to let them know that they fucked up. BIG time."

He watched me scamper from one end of the room to another, and then said, "...You know, there's still a good chance that you can let this whole thing go, Luke. There's a chance to stop now...while you're ahead."

"I'm NOT letting it go! You understand?" I snapped, my anger bubbling to the surface before I could swallow it. I lowered my eyes and mellowed my tone. Out of respect...but still with a determination that refused to back down. "And my name is 'Cylance'. Luke died years ago." I sat down on a nearby footstool and put on my socks and boots, tying them up tight. Mr. Talbot didn't say anything for another few moments, and I felt guilty about my hostile reaction. But I dodged an apology by slightly changing the subject. "Is he still mad at me?"

"I'd be lying if I said he wasn't." He replied. "But I think it comes more from love than hate. So if you're wondering if he still cares, I can honestly tell you that he does."

"He doesn't understand."

"He chooses not to."

"Well then that's HIS problem." I felt aggravated...but hurt.

"Is it? Because you suddenly don't seem so sure of yourself anymore."

"I am. Believe me."

"I don't think so. I think you've been making this a well planned fantasy in your head for so long that the reality of actually going through with it has got you scared shitless."

"I'm not scared..."

"Yes you are. Covering it up with anger isn't going to hide that from me. It's not going to hide it from them either." He stepped closer to me, and put his hand firmly on my shoulder. "I know what you're doing, kid. You think if you can just hold on to the hatred for just a LITTLE bit longer...then maybe you'll accidentally find the courage you need to go through with the kill. You won't. It's just going to blindfold you while you spiral down into further actions that you are ultimately going to regret. You say they stole your life...but I say that you're giving them your soul for free."

I pulled away from him slowly, and did what I could to regain my focus. "You're not going to talk me out of this, so stop trying. You knew this day was coming. This is what I've been training for. If Patrick wants to be mad at me for it...well, whatever. Fine. Either he understands or he won't. Same goes for you."

"I take it I've hit a soft spot?"

"There aren't any soft spots left. Believe me."

"There's ALWAYS a soft spot left." He said. "And it lies in the one place that you're afraid to look, Luke. Deep down...you know that this won't take away your pain. It will only make it worse. Look at yourself in the mirror and tell me that you don't see the pointlessness of this vendetta."

"STOP IT!" I said loudly. "They killed me, I'm killing them back. End of story. I did everything you asked me to. I laid low, I waited around in this basement for 2 years, I studied, I practiced, I trained! I'm READY! It's time to end this. I'm sending each and every one of them back to hell where they belong...and then I'm taking myself out of the picture..."

"A suicide..."

"A sacrifice. I don't plan to live forever as one of those....'things'. I don't ever want to feed again. Ever. You have no idea what it's like to close my eyes and know that I have the deaths of 24 people on my hands. Some nights, I can still hear them begging for their lives the same way I did. I can't be allowed to live. Not like this." I told him. "This is it. I'm doing it. And nothing that you or Patrick has to say is going to change my mind about that."

There was another meaningful pause. Mr. Talbot was an expert at making them. "Then what does it matter what Patrick thinks? You'll be 'gone' in a few days anyway, and you won't have anything to worry about. Will you?" He asked, a sarcastic tone in his soft fatherly voice.

"What are you saying? Huh? What should I do? Just forget that I was ever alive? Just sit here in this basement for the next century or two and roast chestnuts every Christmas Eve with the two of you until you both grow old and die without me? Is that what you're saying?"

He sighed with a hint of disappointment. "I'm saying...that you have choices, Luke. We all do. The second you stop pretending that they don't exist for you, you'll be able to see this plan of action the same way that Patrick does." He told me. "The same way that I see it too."

Our eyes met for a moment, but I wasn't going to let him trick me. Not now. I've come too far and worked too hard to get this right. "I have to get ready. Duffy said that Spaz hangs out at this spice shack on the South West side. I'm gonna have to hop on a bus to get there before I lose him." He lowered his eyes a bit as he realized that I wasn't heeding his advice. That I was using every mental gymnastic at my disposal to stubbornly block out his every word. I just couldn't turn back now. The stage has already been set, the dominoes ready to fall. He could have argued it out with me for a while longer, but in the end he didn't try to stop me. He knew it would do no good.

"Be careful. More importantly...be safe. Ok?" He said quietly. "There's no need to kill yourself ahead of schedule." And then he walked back up the stairs again to leave me in peace. I meditated on what he said, but only briefly. And then...my preparations began.

I dressed in all black, from head to toe, a dark pair of shades over my eyes to hide their unnatural glow. I wore layers to keep warm and limber, but loose enough to provide me with enough movement to do what was needed to bring somebody down. I'd been taking martial arts classes since the age of ten. Funny, I never really thought I'd need it for anything...just liked how it looked on TV. Now, I'm glad to have that knowledge with me. With my new speed and strength, it was more lethal than ever. There was really no need to exercise, as my body would revert right back to the state it was in the night I died during every daylight sleep cycle. So it's not like I could get any stronger. But I trained anyway. Trying to get faster, smarter, more precise, with every strike. I bled for them, I wanted to make sure that they'd bleed for me in return. I kept my long saber with me at all times. Something else that I taught myself to use efficiently while being locked away in this house. I was hardly an expert with it, but I knew enough to do what was needed. Besides...I had fury on my side.

I vaguely knew the area where their hearts would be, but not exactly. I'm sure if I just kept stabbing them enough times in the right spot, I'd find it. My saber had a long, flat, silver blade. Turned horizontally, it would easily puncture the flesh and muscle its way between the ribs, hopefully pushing its way back out to oxygen on the other side of them. I kept it at my hip, ready and waiting. I put on a long black trench coat to hide the weapon from wandering eyes, and then prepared to venture out for the evening. This is it. This is the first step to my salvation....at long last.

As I walked up the stairs, I saw Mr. Talbot and Patrick standing in the doorway to the kitchen. They were whispering loudly, a highly distressed look on Patrick's face. Mr. Talbot was obviously trying to calm him down, but it didn't seem to be working. They heard me step out into the hallway, and stopped to look at me. There was an almost eternal moment that passed between us where neither of us said anything at all. They knew where I was going and what I was going to do tonight. There was no use in hiding it. But there was no use in explaining it to them either. So I put my shades on, and turned to walk towards the back door.

"Luke, wait!" Patrick called out to me, and hurried over to take a hold of my arm. He's the only person on Earth who can call me 'Luke' anymore and not have it sound profane. "Come on! Enough is enough, alright? You don't have to do this! You can walk away from this any time that you want to."

"I don't want to." I told him, avoiding his eyes, knowing that I could find my last living weakness in their reflection.

"This is STUPID! What if something happens to you? What if you don't make it home?" He pleaded. "Luke....please....just stay here. With me. You're better than this. Don't let them take another life from you." I turned to look at him briefly, and let my hand reach forward to grasp his gently. Then I leaned in to give him a tender kiss on the cheek.

"Don't wait up for me. I might be a while." I said, and turned to leave the house before they interfered any further into my plans. I needed to get my head straight. I needed focus. No time for wrapping my emotions around something I was destined to lose soon anyway.

Patrick had tears in his eyes, but it was the gentle release of my hand that broke my heart. He backed away from me in disbelief...and I knew that I had to leave. I can't let his love penetrate. Not tonight. Stay on the right path. Quiet your mind. We're gonna need all the strength we can get.

I took one last look at Mr. Talbot, and without another word...I left. Please forgive me, Patrick. I'd stay with you forever if I could.

The air was even colder that night than the one before. The snow stopped falling, but it had been turned to pounded down blocks of compacted ice beneath my feet. I'm glad that I had good traction in these boots. I can't afford to be tripping over my own feet tonight.

I got on the first bus that came my way, and let my mind wander as it began the long trek out to the south side.

It can be unsettling being around the human population again. Being so different. So removed. You hold within you a secret that would cause each and every single person on that bus to hate and despise you beyond the limits of what is socially acceptable. And they don't even know it. That's where the tension comes from. Having to hold in that secret. Forced to swallow it, and protect it, at all costs...just to keep from being the victim of their judgement. They force you to hide....and a piece of you really hates them for it. So it grows, until you no longer care whether you live with their approval or not. A person can only live with the pain for so long before it consumes them completely. Sigh...I thought I had avoided that feeling by coming out of the closet when I was 14 years old. But I guess I have to live through that judgement all over again, at least for the next few nights.

I remember the day I told Patrick that I loved him. Hehehe, it was a complete shock to him, as that little confession came before I ever told him that I even liked boys. I didn't know what to expect as a reaction, but it certainly wasn't a sudden kiss on the lips. It took me a few seconds to even realize what was happening. "Oh my God, PLEASE tell me you're not just kidding around! I'm SO gonna toss myself out of a window if this is a joke!" He said, a nervous smile on his cute little lips. He was so beautiful. He truly enchants me.

I remember how his eyes were frantically searching for an answer in my surprised silence. And how they began to mist up slightly when I told him, "I love you more than I can say. I've loved you for a long time now, Patrick. I just...I didn't think..." He didn't let me finish. He wrapped his arms around my neck and kissed me deeply on the lips as I allowed myself, for the first time, to place my hands lovingly on his small waist. Nothing takes your breath away like the first kiss of someone you truly love. It still makes me squirm happily in my seat to even think about it.

Being together was not as difficult as I expected it to be. I honestly suspected that there would be more problems, more secrecy, more struggling with my identity. But the truth of the matter is, Patrick's father already knew that he was gay, even if he didn't say so right away. Loving, open minded, parents can always tell, I think. So it was no big shock when his son told him about his 'secret life'...and he welcomed me into their home with open arms. Anything to see us happy. The few close friends that knew about us were more than happy about us finding someone else to share such tender feelings with, and the people who didn't know....well, they didn't need to. And they never seemed to ask. Patrick and I had been like brothers for the first nine months that we knew each other. So it hardly seemed strange for people to see us spending so much time together. As far as our relationship went, we couldn't have asked for a better match. Patrick was affectionate, and good natured, and highly sexual when he wanted to be. He's the only person I ever had sex with, but it was such a mind-blowing experience being with him. Extremely passionate with every movement, every whisper, every touch, every kiss. We took every chance we could get to find some time alone and enjoy one another. Almost got caught by his dad on numerous occasions, but always got our clothes on in time. Barely.

Then again, I'm sure he knew what was going on. He wasn't only a loving parent, but practically a 'police officer' as well. Or...at least that's what we thought at the time.

Just like all of the other pleasant memories of my human life...the road ends on the night that I entered that alley. I was going to go out to Barney Meyer's birthday party with Patrick on my arm, but the cold weather had given him an early case of the flu. He stayed home that night to get some rest, but made me promise to go anyway and have fun. I can only thank God that he wasn't with me. Or he might have met up with the same fate....or worse.

The thoughts are coming back to me. No. Think about something else. Concentrate.

I can vaguely remember the vampires dislodging their fangs from my arms and legs, with Vincent sucking his last few drops from my neck, as my body spasmed involuntarily from a pain that my brain couldn't even process anymore. I couldn't move, I couldn't speak...but I was somehow still awake. They must have thought that I'd just finish bleeding to death in the trash where they left me. I was no longer their problem. My body was dragged to lie in a corner on a lumpy pile of snow behind the dumpster. They all wiped their lips, some of them smiling. And I heard Vincent say, "Shit..I feel better already! C'mon, let's get back to the party. I feel like having a good time tonight. Hehehe!"

"Hold on a second..." Spaz said with the slurred speech of his laid back druggie fashion. He took a small folded notebook out of his inside jacket pocket, and a pen. "Where are you guys gonna be?"

"Come on, Spaz! Just come with us for crying out loud!" Vincent said.

"No, no, I'm coming, seriously. I just wanna....get my head right first with some of the good stuff. You know what I mean?" Spaz told them. Trixie was the first to roll her eyes.

"You mean you're going to get so twisted that you don't know up from down and won't come back out at all. Right?"

"I SAID I'm coming! Now, just...give me some details, alright?" He wrote everything down in his notebook. Vincent told him where he'd be. Barry did the same. Carolyn and Trixie were going to hang out at the same spot. And he recorded every word. I guess this had become a tradition for them around this time of year. "Cool. Just go. I'm gonna go get fucked up, and I'll be there to join you guys with bells on. Top hat and all that, dude."

"Deal. Don't disappoint us, Spaz." Vincent smiled, tucking his shirt back into his pants. Strangely enough, even after he drank my blood, I couldn't help but admire how cute he really was. Even from this angle. Then again, my brain wasn't working right at that moment. "Alright boys and girls! Let's go have us a celebration!"

"Whooooo! YEAH BABY!" Barry shouted, and they all moved away from me, giggling as they walked back out onto the street.

I don't know how long I was lying there, but I do remember asking death to take me. Wondering why I was being left behind to wallow in this misery for so long. Wondering why it all wouldn't just....fade away. And that's when I heard the engine of a car in the distance. The sound of footsteps approaching my almost lifeless carcass. There was a bright light shining in my face, and I heard a gasp, as the two men in black looked down at what had happened to me. I didn't know what to expect, or how they would interpret what they were seeing. But you can imagine my surprise as my dilated pupils were suddenly filled with the image of Mr. Talbot, squatting down to examine my wounds. "Luke??? Luke??? Shit! He's not dead...get him into the car!"

"Sir? This is highly unorthodox. We can't take him anywhere, we're just supposed to...."

"NOW!!! Get him into the fucking car! Give me a hand!" Mr. Talbot yelled, and I blacked out once they started moving me.

A slag hunter. I guess Patrick's father had a secret life of his own. He was there to 'collect' me, wasn't he? To cut me down into manageable pieces of flesh and toss me into the freezer where I'd be secretly put into an acid bath and declared 'missing'. But he didn't. He saved me. He broke protocol, brought me home, gave me shelter, and stayed there with me every day through my crossover into darkness. I guess they make slag hunters study our vampire developments in order to better serve our kind. I'm thankful for that. Thankful for him. Thankful for Patrick and the love we shared. Because, despite the horror of that night, it all seems so clear now. As though every part of that process was necessary in order to make it possible for me to kill every last one of them and wipe them from the face of the Earth once and for all. It's my purpose. My mission. Mr. Talbot had to make sure that I laid low for the last two years...waiting for my classmates, my friends, my parents...to stop looking. Or to at least lose hope of finding me alive. If it weren't for Patrick, I would have lost my mind in that house. But I eventually made it to the surface again. I've been waiting an eternity for this. At long last, I'm reminded that I'm still here for a reason, and I intend to fulfill my obligation with a smile.

And a LOT of blood!