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Do not go gentle…

I wasn't sure why the words kept echoing in my head that night. I'd never even liked that poem. Often misquoted, I had more of a thing for William Blake and his brighter outlook on life. I shoved my hands as deep into the pockets of my coat and kept my head down to help the hood offset the rain. It rained a lot in Portland, but I'm not originally from here. I'd grown up in the deep Southern United States where rain was more of a summer afternoon thing, not an everyday but you never actually drown thing. It probably wasn't every day, but I'd been here over two weeks and it had every single day.

Moving had not been easy, but necessary I told myself. I needed a change of scenery, a breath of fresh air after my grandmother had died. She was my only living family, had raised me since I was knee high to a grasshopper as she liked to say. I had stayed in Alabama to take care of her. After she died, it became too hard to stay where she had been. There were too many memories, both good and bad. The last six months had been brutal.

She forgot me.

Not on purpose, I told myself firmly. She could not have helped that part. She would not have forgotten me if she could help it, and I took comfort in knowing that her last moments I had seen that she knew me again. She had had clarity. Just like I had prayed for.

I'm not overly religious, being raised in a very cliché Southern Baptist church (white steeple and all), had crushed a lot of ideas I had about God. He was very hateful in their portrayal. Everyone was going to hell if that was the kind of God we had to follow. I blame a lot of that on the generation of the church. They had seen a lot of change in their day, and used God to beat anyone who didn't agree with them over the head.

I stopped going the day Granny got too sick to go to church anymore.

Just a few more blocks and I would be home, I thought, shaking myself out of deeper and more depressing topics. I could feel water in my pockets and let my fingers splash in them.

Portland was temporary, which was why I was staying in a rent by the month hotel. I intended to keep moving until I found somewhere that felt right, or finally ran out of money. Maybe I'd go back to Alabama. Maybe not. Granny's empty house, which now belonged to me, was not the most appealing option. I knew the suffering that had taken place there and it absolutely put a black mark on every happy memory I had there.

I turned the corner and bumped into someone, the force of their body almost knocking me to the ground if it hadn't been for a hand catching my elbow.

"Oof, sorry." I said earnestly, my drawl more pronounced than I had intended it to be. I looked up to see a young man, maybe twenty on a good day (I bet he got carded a lot if he were any older than twenty) dressed from head to toe in black. He had dark hair and the darkest brown eyes I'd ever seen in my life. He held my elbow for a long moment, looking at me as though a light switch had turned on before letting me go.

"No problem." He said in a cool tone that was worse than the rain. He didn't have on a coat and I thought that he must be cold, but he brushed by me before I could utter another word and kept walking around the corner that I had just come from.

I've never been one to be struck stupid, but that was exactly what happened. I frowned, mostly at myself as I replayed the scenario. If it weren't for the street light on this corner, I probably wouldn't have seen him at all. Shaking my head quickly, I kept going, only looking over my shoulder once to check the street behind me. I had not thought about how alone I was out here until just then.

In Alabama, we rarely worried about walking after dark. In my hometown everyone was familiar with each other. There were virtually no strangers at home.

It did not take me long after that to reach the rent-a-hotel. It was a little rundown and maybe a little creepy, but it was all I could afford until I found a real job. Or maybe I didn't want to find a real job, so I stayed somewhere I could afford outright.

I just needed time to figure out what the hell I was going to do next.

I climbed the stairs up to the second floor, holding on tight to the wet railing, my sneakers making god awful squealing-squelching noises. Out of the rain and under the awning of the second story, I pulled down my hood. My fingers were cold as I reached into my back pocket for the room key. It was an actual key of all things, not one of those little key cards meant for a wallet.

It slid into the lock with a little bit of persuasion and as I opened the door, I had a distinct feeling of being watched. Frowning, I lifted my head and let my eyes wander over the empty breezeway on either side of me.

Shaking off the feeling, I opened my door and pulled the key free with a quick snatch. I opened the door and took a breath, met only with the smell of must and probably some kind of deadly mold. I flicked on the light as I shut the door, giving the room a suspicious glance before locking up the door.

I felt a little better with the chain in place, adding an extra layer of protection to the door.

I peeled off the oversized jacket I wore and brought it to the bathroom, throwing it over the shower curtain bar to dry out a little. Under the canvas material I wore jeans and an old band t-shirt.

I looked up into the bathroom mirror as I began to kick off my shoes, using my feet to do the work since I was too lazy to bend over and untie them.

I'm honestly nothing to look at, which was why I didn't have or keep serious relationships. I kind of felt bad because all Granny wanted was to see me happily married before she died. I brushed my hand through the frizzy tangle of brown hair, a pair of equally brown eyes staring back at me.

Maybe there were some features I could see were "pretty" but I wasn't advertising. It had been just me and Granny for a long time. Now it was just me.

I turned back towards the small room, complete with a tiny eat in kitchen, flopping down on the queen sized mattress. It creaked loudly under my weight and I sighed as I threw an arm over my eyes.

I was thinking about that stranger again. What in the world had he seen to look at me like that?

I frowned, knowing that I'd probably never know.

A/N: Thanks for reading! I know what you have to be thinking, oh no…a cliché' Stefan finding love story. Nope, folks. This is NOT a love story. :P So go ahead and toss that notion right now. I have no intention of putting these two together.

If you want to find out what this story really is…well…stick around for the ride. ;)

DISCLAIMER: I do not in any way claim to be Patricia Briggs. All of the characters mentioned from Mercyverse belong strictly to her. Mine to me, yours to you.