For Her
He's doing this because he loves her.
That's what he's telling himself every second as he's walking towards the courtyard, towards the archway, towards her.
He can't bear it, and with every passing moment, every fall of his foot, he's more sure that he's making a huge mistake and that he should turn around, go back to his room and say he forgot he was meeting her. He's aware that he could use the speed that his vampiric powers gave him, but he does not wish for the inevitable to occur any faster than it has to. For every doubt, there's the other side of his brain that's telling him that he has to do this. He has to do this for her, because every time she passes through his mind, every minute spent with her, falling harder, is putting her in even greater peril. He has to protect her from the rest of his kind, from the slayers, and from the heartbreak that would surely come if she were to love him. He is the Chosen One, and he will have to marry, one day, and to marry a Breather – a slayer, none the less! – would certainly not be permitted.
He's walking towards a goodbye, and this fact is the one that tears him apart the most. He is so, so sick of goodbyes, by this point. He's had so many for a lifetime with so few years to it. He hasn't even lived to be eighteen, and yet he has been forced to bid farewell to all the people, the places, in his life that he has loved. As a child, it was his mother, Magda. She left her children and her supposed beloved for a werewolf. Her goodbye was the least painful of them all, which surprises him, because it wasn't really a goodbye, for it held no words. She left in silence, packing her bags and shooting away before linguistics could be even considered. His second goodbye being that of leaving his first home, the one in Transylvania. The mobs that chased them, pitchforks raised, from their home. This, too, held no real hurt for him, because he had never quite fitted in there, always an outsider. His other goodbyes were worse, much worse. First, there was the mind wipe on the slayers and the Breathers, more specifically Robin and Chloe. He was losing the only true friends he had ever had, and that pretty much killed him. And finally, there was leaving Stokely, because this gave the loss of Robin an air of finality, of closure. This was his worst goodbye.
Forcing her to leave, to say goodbye to another of those dear to him, would be like a stake through the heart.
And before he knows how far he's walked, he's in the yard, under the silvery shimmer that is the moon's beams. He looks up from where he is surely burning holes in his shoes, and gazes at her, unseen, hidden. He sees the way her hair shines under the pale light, the way her cheeks are reddened from the cold, the way the moonlight gives her skin a milky pallor, the way the lack of heat makes her breath visible as short puffs of steam. The way her eyes light up and sparkle as she notices him. She comes to him, demanding to know why he had to meet her out here, of all places, at this hour, and what the Hell did he want anyway? He takes a deep breath, mentally reminding himself of why he is doing this, before telling her that she must leave. She must leave because he is dangerous, his kind are treacherous, that his enemies will come for her, that he's falling, falling, falling in love with her and it's all just adding up to what can only end in tragedy. He finishes with a (decidedly unmanly) gasp when he feels lips on his own, and they are warm, so warm. It is a sensation he has felt only once before, and this time the experience is unmarred by the feelings of deceit and betrayal that were so prominent during their first kiss. He feels her begin to pull away when he doesn't respond, and he slides his hands upon her cheeks before slanting his mouth over hers once again. He feels her smile, then she breaks away and presses their foreheads together.
"I love you, Vlad."
"And I you, but it's too dangerous for you with me." He feels uncharacteristic tears pooling in his eyes, but he refuses to let them spill over. Anger pulses through his empty veins, anger at his lack of self restraint. He had promised himself he wouldn't let this happen. It was too late to go back, now.
"I don't care. We'll find a way."
"Erin, the only way would be for me to bite you."
She bites her lip, before meeting his eyes with an almost fiery determination. "There'll be other ways, but if that is truly the only way, then we'll do it."
"Erin-"
"Shut up, Vlad."
"I love you."
She smiles as the words fall from his lips, unbidden.
"I love you too."
THE END.
