Claire looked to the ground in despair. She knew it was time to fess up to Shane but she couldn't. Every time she looked at him, her heart would melt and she wouldn't be able to talk. She hated it. Every bit this thing that burned her heart. Never before had she experienced love. It burned her soul like acid burned its way through thin skin. A couple of years ago, before she met Shane, she would have laughed at the mere thought of something as stupid as love. Claire was a warrior and warriors don't love, they fight. They fight to survive and that's exactly how she had lived her life; fighting to survive. Never had she thought that she would be in a position to where she even thought about staying.

She cuffed her face in her hands, attempting to hide the worry that screamed across her face. Ideas of how to tell him ran through her mind, but one idea, unique and adhesive, caught her off guard. Don't tell him, the thought said. Just leave and don't tell him, pack your bags and be off. He would never understand you or your life so why would you let him think he knows anything. It was a horrible thought, yet there was just something about it that wouldn't leave her alone. She looked towards the closet where her bag lay. It was such a simple plan, an easy way out. Slowly, she rose from the crypt of her bed. She went to the sinful bag that was drenched in shame and regret, emotions she couldn't feel. She picked up the bag and glided to the window. Wind breathed through that open window.

She looked back at her bedroom door for what she assumed was the last time and leapt from the window to the tree, catching herself on a sturdy branch. She climbed down the tree limb by limb until she got to the ground. She ran to the fence and hopped over it with a fluent motion, showing her experience.

She walked, each step weighing her feet down as if to tell her not to go.

She was across the street from Oliver's coffee shop, her hood to her long red cloak shading her face from the street lamp. She heard nothing in the distance and wondered if there was any real danger about or if it was just an old friend come to play for a kiss, her very special kiss.

"I was hoping you would come" said a voice which made her jump. "I'm sorry, I forgot how drained of power you are. You can't see as well as you should, can't hear, and can't smell; hell, I bet you can't even move as fast as you once could."

He was there in a flash. Inches from Claire's face, he was. His fangs out and ready to hunt. His hands held her wrists to the wall behind her. She struggled a little but knew that it was pointless.

"Shhhh, it's alright. I won't hurt you, I swear. I only want to join you." She stopped struggling and focused on his voice which she had heard before yet had forgotten the face to match it with. "I want to join you, but first I must know who you are playing in this town, doll."

He whipped her hood off from her head. She could see him now. Never in all her years did she think that she would be caught, no, blackmailed by a simpleton vampire, nevertheless Jason Rosser. He looked her over, admiring a killer whose methods of death would make even Oliver scream in terrior.

"I never would have thought that you," his voice started to rise a little, "of all people in this town, you, sweet little Claire Danvers, is murdering, lying, doll-"

"I haven't killed anyone in this town and I haven't lied."

"Yes you have. You murdered Magnus when Amelie couldn't and then you wiped their memories and made new ones for them."

"How do you know that?"

"And let's not forget that you're not really Claire Danvers, aren't you? You're just a doll that Claire's parents paid to replace their dead baby girl." He paused, looking deep into her eyes to see if she feared him, she did. "I know your leaving town. You cannot afford to stay here because Claire's parents died before you had the chance to eat their souls.

"You're hungry, I can tell. You spent years on this project and now you don't get rewarded. I can help you; all you have to do is turn me. I know all about how the draug burned down the bar you concealed you and you're Bloods. Now you are the only one left. You don't have to be." He leaned close, too close. "I want to be one of your Bloods."

"No. I would never turn one of Oliver's."

"Is that because you two fought in the French Revolution together, or because you fell for him just before he killed you?"

"Shut up." She breathed as the water filled her eyes.

"Turn me, and I will fight beside you and will never betray you as he did."

"You don't understand."

"What is there to understand? You are 40% vampire, 40% mermaid, and 20% human, which is just enough human to where your mind is to stubborn to mature. Because of that you will be 15 forever no matter how many tricks you do like break your legs and it only takes two hours to grow two inches or instantly change your hair color and length. And I know that every supernatural creature will always think of you as only 15 years old forever. I know more than my share about you Ms. Bentley."

He knew her name, her name that she was given when she died and came back to life as, what most refer to her, Death.

"Fine, I-I will turn you but d-don't ever call me that again."

He smiled and put his forehead to hers. "What do you want your new name to be, doll?"

"Iris."

"Do you not like the name Claire?"

"I love that name. I had a daughter named Clarissa, until six years ago."

"I remember now, and I am sorry for your losses." He paused for a moment and then straightened himself. She looked up at him.

"How do you know all of this?"

"Shane found out before me. You were in some books at the library and one day he decided to pick up a book while waiting for you. Long story short, I found out that he was going to kill you 'cause of it but don't worry; I stopped him. He will never hurt you, doll."

"You-you didn't-"

"Oh but I most certainly did." He smirked and looked to the horizon of the town. "We should get going, the sun will be up soon and that may not bother you but for time being, it'll give me one hell of a burn."