Seven years ago today, I became a vampire. I'm now 21 years old, or years young considering that vampires can live forever if they're careful. Maybe that'll be me.

I had no particular desire to become a vampire seven years ago, in fact I was doing all I could to prevent my transformation from happening. Unfortunately for me, the fates had decided that not only was I to become a vampire, but I was to become a 'special' one. Still, I've made the history books. Youngest ever Grand High Vampire.

I still don't particularly want to be a vampire, but at the same time, I don't want to meet my end. It's an interesting paradox, I think that's the correct term to use. I like my life currently, it's actually quite a good life for a vampire. But at the same time, I hate it.

Robin, however, loves his new life as a vampire. Yes, he was finally turned. I turned him actually, though not through him constantly asking but rather him being stupid enough to try to take a bullet for me. It was a simple bullet, it would have hurt like hell for a couple of hours but that would have been it. Robin didn't realise this, and the bullet hit him straight in the chest, puncturing a lung.

If I hadn't turned him he would have died.

Seven years ago today, I became a vampire. Seven years ago today I ran away from home. I couldn't take it. I woke up having been through the transformation, and immediately panicked. So I ran. I waited until the dead of night and I ran. I didn't stop running for nearly six years. Everywhere I turned there was someone waiting for me, to kill me or to praise me. Vampires and Slayers alike. So, I had to fight back. And I did. I fought and fought, my hands and teeth were stained with blood.

I never thought I would like the taste of blood.

Last year, I decided to return home. To Stokely. Funny how I consider it to be my home over Transylvania. Returning to the castle was different than I had thought it would be. Nothing had really changed in Stokely, it doesn't seem like anything ever changes in Stokely. Robin claims that that's the effect of suburban apathy. The castle was the same as ever, when Dad got used to a place they hardly ever changed physically , but they did develop a sinister feel to them. It was oddly comforting.

Walking into the castle, I was…hell, I was scared. I didn't know what I was returning to, or if my family was even alive. The castle was so silent, I couldn't even hear the squeak of the rats that I knew infested the place. I entered the throne room, not knowing exactly what to except, but preparing myself for the worst.

Note to self - never prepare self for the worst. It never happens when I expect it to. My father was sitting on his throne, looking the same as ever if a bit depressed. He looked up at me, and…he smiled. I don't think I've ever seen my father smile before. I was welcomed back without so much as a hesitation. Ingrid wasn't there, she had returned to Transylvania only the week before my arrival. She had never really gotten over loosing Will.

My dad told me all of what I had missed, he admitted to having missed - something which I never thought was possible for the Prince of Darkness - but also admitted that Robin had been good company. I was also introduced to my dad's new girlfriend, an American hybrid called Erika, and my step brother, Jack, who I nicknamed Smurf after he kept turning blue to 'impwess me' in his own words.

Apparently, Robin had regained his memories roughly a week after I had left, but with his memories came sense. He still wanted to be a vampire, but he knew better than to just storm straight on into the castle. A party was quickly arranged for my homecoming, with the Branaghs' being proper guests this time - instead of meat to be hunted.

There really is no place like home.

Seven years ago today, I became a vampire. I visited the blood mirror yesterday. Just to see. I never had to go through the 'merging' experience, which I am grateful for as it is meant to be quite painful, so it was an odd experience to be standing in front of it. And I was quite surprised when the reflection of my 14 year old self appeared, bright clothes a severe contrast to my wardrobe now.

"So I turned then?" 14 year old Vlad asked me. I stared.

"There was no way out of it," I replied, remembering the hatred I had towards my eventual transformation when I was 14. "I'm a vampire, I was born one."

"Didn't want to be born a vampire," Vlad retorted. I shook my head.

"No, I didn't, but you have to life with the life, or unlife, that you've been dealt," I said softly. Vlad scoffed loudly, eyeing me warily.

"I look…" he began, frowning slightly.

"Like a vampire?" I offered. I shrugged lightly. "The change in wardrobe happened gradually. Dark colours just happen to work best for us…for me." I corrected myself. My 14 year old self accepted this answer, or at least seemed to, as he fell silent.

"I didn't want to be evil," his voice cracked as he spoke.

"Evil's relative," I answered quickly, guilt stabbing as I remembered the blood. So much blood. Vlad stared for a moment.

"Am…do…" he paused, unable to voice the question. "Do I like being a vampire?" There was a long pause. I turned to leave the room, unwilling and not wanting to answer the question. "Well, do I?"

"What the hell do you think?" I snarled, fangs showing slightly. "But…I know now. This," I said, pointing at my fangs, "is who I really am."