A/N I would just like to say that while I don't love them, I don't hate the Twilight books. Sure, they're bubble-gummy (and you just know everyone is going to end up super happy, content and all that jazz) but they're…nice. Yeah, they're nice little books.

BUT.

Is Bella a Mary-Sue or what?? C'mon, everyone loves this kid! And everyone is so sickeningly brave and noble! So. I'm putting a regular character in Twilight. Well…regular-ish.

Oh BTW, freakin' hate the movies.

Go figure.

Monday 13th/5

I found this notebook under Wonder-Boy's bed. I figure I might as well keep an account of the freakiness while it's still fresh in my brain. And while I don't know if he can wipe memories, I highly suspect.

There's also a large chance that his anal-repetitiveness will sense that I took the note-book and it'll bug him for days!! Ahahahaha!!!

Oh, bonus points for when he smells that I've been in his 'private space' and throws a hissy fit.

I wonder if I can get it on tape…

Although I have to admit, he's not really the hissy-fit throwing type. He'll go all high and mighty, probably trying to make me aware of my immaturity again despite the fact that it's established that he has two hundred years on me.

No seriously, I'm like "Dude, I'm a kid. Oh yeah, and BTW, you're like a gazillion years older then your wife, so unless you want to open that kettle of fish-"

Actually, I'm getting ahead of myself. I should start at the start, on the off chance that anyone reads this. ( I have the handwriting of a concussed two-year-old, so good luck to ya'!)

Well.

It started in red.

I know, deep right?

It's true though. I was wearing this epic red dress over a pair of black leggings and boots. It was my favourite outfit, and it has absolutely nothing to do with the following story- I just want to make you aware of my impeccable taste in items of clothing. So yes, it started in red, because I'm pretty sure it was the red that honed me in on his radar.

Wait, is that a saying?

No, actually, he honed in on me. But it was still on his radar.

And believe me, if you haven't ever seen a young man in a top-coat and tails hone in on you on a highly windy day, you haven't lived!

I laughed so hard I nearly puked!

Especially when his top-hat blew away, but he just ignored it and kept staring at me. I had to assume he was staring, because he was wearing sun-glasses, which didn't really rock with the whole 19th centaury aristocrat look he was going for. I assumed he was with the local re-enactment group. We have one of those. They generally get over-excited whenever they see articles of shiny clothing, assume they're armour, and stab whoever is wearing them.

Hah! No, I lie. But it happened once! Danny Henchling totally flipped and rammed this pole into a guy and it didn't even make any sense because he was a flag carrier, which was pretty lucky for the other guy really 'cos-

Focus Anna! Focus!

Oh yeah, that's me!

Anna Banana! That's not my real name, of course. I get that because I'm a little on the weird-oh side. Like my classmates say: "Anna, you're quirky and god knows we love you but would you ever shut the hell up!"

Gotta love those guys.

Anyhoo…Yes, freaky guy looking at me, and I'm laughing at the whole cape-blowing-in-the-wind situation, which makes him look like a large bird. I lose my balance, and clip my heel on a rock. This causes me to slip sideways, and by all rights I should have eaten a dirt sandwich when-

Suddenly I'm in Bird-Boys arms! I gaped up stupidly at him, trying to get the old brain-banana to process the situation as I struggle back onto my feet

"Dude, that was freakin' awesome," I told him in awe-filled tones. "How'd you get from there to there so fast?!"

"Would you like to take a walk?" he suddenly says, totally laying on the charm. I shuffled awkwardly, hitching my satchel a little higher on my shoulder and considered.

On one hand, this guy was pretty hot. Really pale skin, sort of dark coppery hair and about a head and a half taller then me. He was also really skinny, and his cheek bones looked like they could give you a paper cut.

On the other hand… Em, hello? Going off with a mysterious stranger in a cape??

Not a good idea.

Unless it's batman.

Also, the wind was blowing my hair all over the shop and it was complaining.

Okay, not actually complaining, but I tend to treat my hair as a separate identity and let it lead its own life. It doesn't like hairbrushes, for a start and it doesn't get on well with wind at all.

So, I let out a sigh of regret and said: "No can do m'man. I have class in…" I looked at the cracked face of my watch. "Oh. Ten minutes ago, actually. I'll see you around, 'kay?" I also considered telling him that he smelt amazing, but I was waylaid by the sudden look of utter shock on his face.

Well, I had to assume because he was still wearing sun-glasses but his mouth went all slack and his eye-brows shot up.

"No?"

"Uh. Yeah. I mean- Yeah, I said no." Geez, was this guy full of himself, or what?

"Are you sure?"

"Uh…" If I hadn't been before, I was now. Creepy guy in a cape and waistcoat (probably has a fob-watch, the perv) assumes I want him. No, I need him! Oh baby, oh baby!

Oooh, I should watch that movie again. After all, I have a lot of free time on my hands these days. Just last week I watched the entire collection of the Friends box-sets. I'm contemplating moving on to Sex and The City because I've never actually seen any of those, but the Doc sometimes likes to do 'quality time' watches TV with me.

I mean, can you imagine??

Watching that with him sitting beside me??

Oh dear lord…

Whoops.

Getting side-tracked again.

Back to El-Creepo, who was looking completely astonished that I didn't have to repress the urge to pounce him and ravish him all over.

He was also still staring, so I started to edge away. The yard was emptying a little, because most classes began around this time and I somehow felt that it was not a good thing to be left alone with this guy.

"So, um…yeah. Great. Lets do lunch sometime. My people will call your people. Soooo…" I reached the door, and his eyes were still locked on me. "Yeahokaybyethen!"

Door slammed- Safe.

Dashed down hall- Safer.

Ran into classroom- Safe- actually, no, no longer safe because I was twenty minutes late and Mrs. A chewed me a new one.

Anyway, the day progressed pretty uneventfully after that. I'm not going to say that all thoughts of Whatshisname were driven out by the continuous flow of normality, but the whole experience did seem a little unreal. After all my classes were finished, I had debating. I love debating! A chance to annoy the crap out of people and be praised for it! Okay, so this one time a chick punched me.

But I got an extension, so no biggy! And I rocked a black eye for a while, so that was cool.

I wandered home at the comely time of five or so, to a normal family meal full of normalness with food that was so normal I actually refused to eat it for a bit because it had been normal for three days in a row and like, come on.

Then I watched TV, yelled at newsreaders with my Mom, baked a pie with my Dad, eyed my homework for a little while, and then decided that I was smashed and it was time to get to bed.

Around here, normal decided to go on hiatus.

I haven't seen it since, the rat bastard.

Because as I reached over in the darkened room to flip the switch and thus get the chance to yell "And on the seventh day, Anna said LET THERE BE LI-"

A gloved hand clamped over my mouth.

"Mmph!" I squeaked, actually feeling two years being knocked off my life-span due to unnecessary trauma to my heart.

"Hush," said a voice in the dark. "Make a sound and I'll kill the next person who walks through that door."

My lovely mother chose this moment to call up the stairs. "Anna? You okay honey? You stopped mid-commandment."

Gingerly, the hand was withdrawn and I peered into the dark to see who my assailant was.

"Answer her!" a male voice hissed.

"But you said-"

"Anna?"

"Answer her!"

"Yes, but you said not to-"

He pinched my arm hard and I shrieked. "Anna?" My mom began to climb the stairs, god love her. "What's the matter?"

Aware that further silence could result in more excruciating pinches I yelled "Nothing! I saw a- a- a-"

"Spider," murmured the man.

"Spider! Wait, no-"

"But you like spiders," came my mothers confused reply, but her ascent of the stairs had paused.

"Uh, yeah. So…yay! Spider! I'm shrieking with joy here!"

There was a long pause. "Okay," she sighed. "Goodnight then." And she began to go back downstairs. I'm pretty sure I heard the words "…such a strange girl…" being said.

The light was flicked on, and Bird-boy stood before me.

"You!!!"

"Me," he affirmed, settling on my bed and crossing his long legs.

"How did you- Oh god. You're going to kill me, aren't you?"

"I hope to," he admitted.

It's not cool, hearing those words. I mean, they're so innocent but in the right context (or in this case, the wrong context) the have the power to make you faint like a nine-year-old girl.

Which I did.

But I like to think I did it in a dynamic kind of way.

When I came to, my head was on his lap and he was stroking my hair. Eh, heebie-jeebies much? I'm talking mass shudders of disgust, causing me to leap out of his arms, flee down the stairs and then alert the authorities.

Well, that was the plan, but I hadn't accounted for Bird-Boy's freakishly strong strength (This is a diary. Sue me.) He more or less pinned me in place with one careless hand while the other continued the stroking.

"Eep," I said, filled with courage and bravery. Seriously, the only reason I wasn't sobbing and begging for my life was that I was so damn scared I couldn't even blink.

"I think you should get up now, and take off all your clothes," he announced.

"Go to hell," I advised him. I blinked, shocked at my sudden new-found will to die. (I also remembered how to blink.)

Funnily, he didn't seem about to whip out a serrated knife to gut me. "Fascinating," he said, in this super-pleased sort of voice. "You won't do it?"

"Do you have a serrated knife?"

"No."

"Then no, I won't do it. Uh…" For some reason, my fear started to ebb away, despite the fact that I was in the company of a young man who had confessed his desire to see me dead. "Could you, uh, stop doing that?"

He wasn't listening, so he just kept stroking. "Hmm?"

"Could you stop touching me?" My hair was getting angry.

"Oh! Well, of course." He lifted his hands and I cautiously sat up. Okaaaay…I was trapped in my room with a possible sex-fiend.

And it was only Tuesday!

I really, really hoped he wasn't going to…um…get physical.

"Out of curiosity," I said carefully. "What would happen if I called for help?"

Without appearing to think about it, Bird-boy reached out one skinny arm and gripped my bed-post.

It crumpled into dust.

I made a sort of gagging noise in the back of my throat.

"This is quite the conundrum," he said thoughtfully. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave you now. Be assured however, if you breathe one single word about this to anyone, I will kill you and yours. Are we clear?"

"Sure! No problem!" I babbled, as he stood up. "No breathing! Got it!"

He was so tall, he seemed to unfold, and he was still wearing that stupid cape. He looked at me again, the bedroom light accentuating his pale skin, and making his copper-hair gleam.

"Good," he said, and vanished through the window.

I had just enough time to process that this time he wasn't wearing sun-glasses, and his eyes were a deep, blood red.

Oh.

Shit.

Now, the next morning I knew it wasn't a dream because I was so freaked out I never actually slept. I was like a zombie for the rest of the day, and actually fell asleep in my lunch-time jello. (Not as bad as it sounds- quite comfy in a squishy way.)

I kept waiting…and waiting…and waiting to be pounced and eviscerated like road-kill, but it just never happened.

Well, the fact that I went everywhere while clinging to someone else and yelled loudly whenever I was left alone probably helped.

I think the teachers were dropping the old therapy-hints to my parentals again, but I digress. The fact of the matter is, weeks went by and Bird-boy kept completely failing to leap from the shadows and slice me into a bazillion pieces.

I'd say I got annoyed at the three-month mark if I wasn't filled with knee-weakening relief. I had also invested in some serious duty locks for my bedroom window, and a switch blade which I kept stuffed down my boot. I tried keeping it down my bra for a while, but that did not work out well. Also, it was cold.

I can't say that normality came back, because life WASN'T normal. Normality bailed! It did not pass go, did not collect two-hundred dollars! It buggered off and left me in a sticky mess of weirdness.

Then, five days after the three month mark, I came home to find him sitting on my couch.

He was sipping tea, and engaged in a very intimate conversation about fabric with my mother, who likes that sort of thing.

He looked up and saw me. And he grinned! Grinned! At me! In my living room! The young man who had openly said he was going to be the one to put out the flame of my valuable life shot me a wink and continued to nod along to my mother's ramblings.

I dropped my satchel to the ground with an audible thump, and my mother looked up.

"Anna dear, don't do that. It marks the floor."

"Mom-"

"Now pick it up, and put it in your room."

"Mom, you don't-"

"Your father's baking a pie."

"That boy-"

"Oh yes!" My mother suddenly became all fluttery. "You never told us your boyfriend was calling over!"

"He threat- What?"

"You could have mentioned it Anna, I mean really. What do you use that mobile of yours for?"

He smiled a long, slow smile. "Anna, my love, I thought you said you had told you parents."

"He tried to kill me!"

"That's nice dear," burbled my mother, and she wandered away into the kitchen.

I stared after her in disbelief.

"No I didn't."

"What?" I turned and looked at Bird-boy, trying to find a grip on the situation. Hey, maybe aliens- Nah.

"I didn't try to kill you," he repeated mildly, stirring his tea in this obnoxiously calm way.

"Yes, well. You hinted very strongly at it."

"Nevertheless."

Then my parents both came into the room, and began to set the table, get out bottles of wine and other various activities which signalled the prolonging of the visit as opposed to its immediate halt.

"Uh, Dad? This guy isn't my boyfriend."

"I baked a pie," he said, happily putting the fine china on the good table-cloth. Normally these words would make me ecstatic, (my father is an epic cook) but today they just freaked me out.

"I think he's going to brutally murder us all?" I tried tentatively.

"Anna, help lay the table," replied my mother.

I rounded on Bird-boy, who was sitting looking very smug with the entire situation. "What did you do to them? Are they drugged?"

"I suppose you could call it that," he said. Then he looked at my parents. "Stop what you're doing," he told them.

And they did.

They stopped exactly where they were, looking like toys that had suddenly run out of battery. My mom's hair was covering her face as she bent to get a fork, and my dad's arm was stretched out over the table about to light a candle.

"Uh," I said. "Can you teach me to- I mean, no! You fiend! Fix them!"

"You don't even know what's wrong with them," he said calmly, brushing a fleck of dust off his sleeve.

"I know you did it!"

"True."

"So fix it!"

"I don't particularly want to," he said, sounding a tad sulky. I think I was meant to be impressed, or something. "Why would I, when I can do this."

"Do what?"

Bird-boy turned to my parents and said: "I'm taking Anna."

"WHAT?!"

"Do you agree to that Mrs. Lyndon?"

"Oh yes!" said my mother. "You kids have fun!"

"Mr. Lyndon?"

"Have her home before twelve."

"No, I don't think I will."

"All right," my father replied agreeably.

"Mom! Dad! I don't want to go with him! Also, twelve is a ridiculously early- Okay, that's not the issue here!"

"Anna…" Bird-boy was rising from his seat. "It's time to go. If you want to say goodbye to your parents, now would be a good time."

"I won't- you can't-"

By way of reply, he picked up the couch with one hand. "You will," he said firmly. "And I can."

Then he stalked out of the room, the stupid cloak trailing behind him like a bad-joke. Obviously he put down the sofa first. Duh.

I turned to my lovely but somewhat useless parents. "Well, thanks for nothing you guys," I said bitterly. "Love you and all that jazz. I mean, I appreciate that he's doing voodoo or something, but jeez!"

"Have a nice time, dear." Mom patted my head fondly, accidently poking me in the eye in her spaced-out state.

"Be home before twelve," burbled my dad cheerfully. Apparently some things are drummed in just too hard.

I hugged them both, pretty sure it was going to be my Last. Time. Ever. I didn't get teary though because frankly, the whole situation was too bizarre. A part of me was going 'Naaaah. It's totally a dream. You'll wake up…now! Okay, no. Now! All right, not that time either. Now!'

And then another part of me was gibbering 'Aliens!! Aliens!!!!'

I went out into the hallway, and Bird-Boy was there, politely waiting for me.

"Where are we going?"

"You needn't be concerned with that."

"Oh really?"

"Come along."

He took my arm, as if he was some sort of debonair, and steered me out the door. In our driveway sat a 1940's style Chrysler, all black and shiny.

"Hooo," I breathed. "Someone has money."

"Yes," Bird-Boy said simply. "I do."

He opened the passenger door and gently propelled me in. The inside was white leather and smelled of wealth.

If you're gonna die, said my subconscious, at least you're doing it in a fancy car.

Well, that'll be a consolation, won't it? My blood would probably stain the leather! He'd never wash it out! Bwahahaha!!!

Bird-Boy climbed in beside me. "Wave to your parents," he said pleasantly, as he waved to the bleary couple in the doorway.

"Bite me," I snapped.

He stopped and turned to me, his eyes burning.

"You have no idea how much I want to." He turned back to the wheel and smoothly began driving away from my house.

Eep. I noticed those red eyes again. What was it? Contacts? Ohmygod, maybe he's the Devil!! Red-eyes! Old fashioned suit! Probably has a fob-watch!!!

While I was internally freaking out, I suddenly saw that he was chuckling as he drove.

"What's so funny?" I asked, bewildered.

"'Bite me,'" he repeated to himself, laughing a little louder. "Oh, the irony. You really do have a knack for saying exactly the wrong thing, Anna."

"Yeah, well…" I did, actually. Even got a place in the yearbook for it, but he didn't know that. "You don't know me."

"Actually, I probably know you better then you know yourself," he drawled, not moving his eyes from the road.

"Weirdo."

"Where do you think I've been for the last three months?"

"Uh. Alaska? I hear it's nice this time of year."

Then he did turn to look at me. "I haven't gone anywhere," he grinned.

That took a moment to sink in. "What? I don't-"

Bing. Lightbulb.

"You were stalking me?"

"Watching you."

"Stalking me!"

"Observing your lifestyle."

"Stalking me!!!"

"I wanted to find out what made you tick."

"You could have asked!!"

"Stop shouting."

"I'll shout if I damn well want to!" I yelled, forgetting about disintegrating bed-knobs and rising couches for the moment.

He began to laugh again. "It's such a novelty, not being obeyed."

"It's about to wear thin," I warned.

Silence descended once more. Until I said: "When did you watch me?"

He grinned again, and there was something filthy about this one. "All the time."

I slapped him. Hard.

Which is pretty difficult to do in a car, I might add. You can't get a proper swing in, and you have to bend your elbow all awkward. But I tried.

And I ended up with a broken hand for my troubles.

He was like marble! It was like slapping a statue and it had about that much effect on the subject as slapping a statue would. He kept staring grimly ahead, until he realised I was making little yelping noises of pain as I clutched my hand. Then his red-eyes filled with concern. He pulled over, and took my hand

"Silly girl," he murmured, examining it minutely

"I hate you!" I would have tugged my hand away, but the fact of the matter was that his freezing skin was pretty soothing on my quickly swelling hand.

"I don't think it's broken…"

"I hate you so much!"

"Here." He flipped open the glove compartment, and out spilled a mini-hospital. Bandages, antiseptic cream, sutures, gauze…You name it, he had it.

"Oh god, I really am going to die!"

He looked at me, puzzled for the first time. "Excuse me? I show you items that heal and you come to the conclusion I'm going to kill you?"

"Yeah, you want me better so you have a fresh canvas to stab! Why do you have all this!?"

It took me a minute to place the emotion, because it was so unexpected. He looked embarrassed.

"Well," he said slowly. "It's for you."

"Oh god, I really am-"

"Because I asked someone for advice, and he warned me that you would be very fragile. I don't normally deal with-" He stopped, and suddenly concentrated on the ceiling. "I don't suppose that if I told you to forget what I just said, you would?"

"No," I said, the cogs in my brain whirring furiously. Girls? Was he going to say he didn't normally deal with girls? Well, he looked to be in his early twenties so that's a bit weird.

Weirder then the cape, the red eyes and the freaky voodoo voice? my subconscious asked.

Right.

Never mind.

He started up the car as I moodily bandaged my hand.

We drove on…

And on…

And on…

I must have fallen asleep, because I woke up in a hotel room.

And he was staring at me.

I shrieked and fell off the bed. "Don't do that!" I yelled from the floor.

"Sorry," he said, not sounding sorry at all. "I ordered you breakfast." I poked my head up just in time to see him gesture towards a trolley that was groaning with food.

"Wha- I won't- Why did you order so much?"

"I didn't know how mush you would eat."

"Oh." Suddenly, I took in the room for the first time. It was fancy, and I mean that in the Fan-Sayest sense there is. The bed I was on could have slept four people, and the sheets were seriously fancy material (my mom would have flipped). The walls were gold and covered in cherubs, a sure sign of either vast wealth or bad taste. Maybe both.

Then… "Did you carry me here?"

"Yes."

"Oh." I'm not at my best in the mornings, so I was blearily looking around the place and rubbing eye-liner out of my eyes.

"But," he said hopefully, obviously aware that this was prime time to not get shouted at. "I didn't take off your clothes!"

I looked down. I was wearing red silk pyjamas.

I looked up and opened my mouth-

"A maid did it!" he said quickly. "You looked so tired! A female maid!"

"Did we sleep in the same bed?"

"No," he said promptly.

"Well…good. Where did you sleep?"

"I didn't. I mean, I don't."

"You don't sleep?"

"No."

"Then what did you do?"

"I watched you."

I gave him a Look. He looked back. Then I remembered that he could crush me with one little flex of his freakish hands.

I wished I hadn't.

I slid off the bed and began to stuff my face from the trolley. I could feel him watching me, with this big fascinated look on his face and it made me feel like a science experiment.

"Are you eating or what?"

"I don't eat," he said vaguely, not taking his eyes from my bulging cheeks.

"You don't eat?"

He blinked those red eyes of his, and shook his head. "No."

I sat down on the bed, still chewing a blueberry muffin. "All right. Cards on the table. What are you?"

He smiled. "Red eyes. Cape. Pale skin. What do you think I am?"

"An alien."

The smile vanished. "An alien," he said sardonically. "She thinks I'm an alien."

"What? What? It's plausible!" I said, moving on the fried eggs. If I was going to die, I was going to be full when I did goddamnit!

"An alien."

"You have googily eyes," I pointed out. "Red, but googily." It was true, he did have these eyes that sort of bulged a little.

He seemed to soften when I said his eyes were googily. "I see. Doesn't anything else come to mind?"

"Nope."

"Are you sure?"

"Yep."

"Nothing else? Anna? Are you sure you can't think of anything else?"

I thought about it, dripping yellow egg-yolk on my pyjamas. "Well…You could be- Nah. That's stupid."

"What??"

"Well…"

"Say it!"

"I guess…if I went crazy…you could be a-"

"Say it!!"

"Werewolf."

He stared at me. The he got up and strode over to the closet and pulled it open. Something large fell out and hit the ground.

It was a maid.

And she had no throat.

"I," said Bird-boy. "Am a vampire."

Suddenly I didn't want any more breakfast.

I sat in the car and quietly gibbered to myself as Bird-boy finished tipping the guy who drove over our car.

What're they called again?

Begins with a 'C'…my friends brother used to work as one, and she said he used to go driving around the city in them, doing 360's and wheelies galore. That's probably not true though.

I was babbling like this in my head to try and distract my self from the fact that I had seen my first ever corpse.

Bird-boy opened the car door and climbed in. Subconsciously, I shrank away from him, pressing into the side of the car in an attempt to get as far away from him as possible. Now I was the one doing the staring. He was back to wearing those sunglasses, so I couldn't see the red in his eyes.

He sighed. "I don't want you to be afraid of me."

If I wasn't about to wet myself with fear, I might have laughed.

"I should have considered the effect that seeing the body would have had on you."

Duh.

"But I'm not used to- I'm not used to being around humans." He paused, and then added: "Well, not for long periods of time, anyway."

Gee.

Great.

Thanks for that.

Then he started the car. Oh! It was valet parking. Just remembered.

"Where…"

He turned to look at me. It was the first sound I had made since- since.

"Where are we going?"

He pulled out onto the street. "Somewhere you'll be safe."

Uh. Maybe this is an obvious question but…"Safe from what?"

He took of the sunglasses and those red eyes looked straight into mine.

"Safe from me."

Oh. Gotcha.

Then he pulled out a fob-watch to check the time.

And I realised: Yes, I Really Am Going To Die.

And now I'm sleepy, and someone is yelling my name, so I guess I'll finish this some other time.

Hate to leave you in suspen-

Oooh, Wonder-Boy is baking cinnamon rolls!!

Later!

A/N Where are they going!? Who knows! Well, since this is a Twilight knock-off, I'm going to go ahead and say there's pretty good odds that at least 95% of people can guess where.

And BTW I have no plot.

None.

Zilch.

Nada.

It's kinda liberating…