Disclaimer: Don't own Blade, or any of the characters from the Blade franchise. All I own are the words I use to write about 'em here and any characters I make up. Don't sue me...uh, please? 'Cuz I wrote this for fun, not profit.

PLEASE READ: This is my first real Blade fic, so yeah, I'm a little nervous. Anyway, this is just a one-shot and it is told from the point of view of Vanessa, Blade's mother. This fic starts off near the end of the first Blade film, right before Deacon and the gang head over to the Temple of Eternal Night to perform the La Magra ceremony with Blade. Even though there was no party to celebrate Frost capturing Blade at this point in the movie, I've added this scene in as well as other things for the purposes of the story. Now, enjoy the fic!

Sin of the Mother

By Sinnerstar Angel

The party is perfect.

The room is crowded with people. Some human, most not. Their laughter and giddy chatter are muffled by the blaring techno music. The guests are ecstatic, their constant toasting with glasses of wine or blood making that soft tink sound go through the air.

Quinn, Deacon's practical lapdog, is chasing some giggling girl idiotically around the terrace pool outside the penthouse with the biggest grin on his face and a half-empty bottle of champagne in his hand. And Mercury, one of Deacon's favorite fledglings, is swaying to the music as she stands on top of a table in the center of the room, gaining the lustful attention of some of the humans among us. Unsurprisingly, she's wearing white – a simple, thin-strapped dress with slits up her thighs and matching white platforms. Her blond hair is slicked back in some God awful modern style that turns my stomach...what Deacon sees in her is beyond me.

Of course the host of the party, Deacon Frost himself, is missing. He's probably retreated to his office by now. He always throws parties and then leaves them, almost like he feels uncomfortable around his own kind sometimes.

But I am surprised he hasn't stayed until the end of this little get-together. This is one of the few parties that Deacon has thrown which actually has come about for a reason. It's a celebration.

A small celebration for a great victory...for the capture of the Daywalker.

For years, my son Eric (I refuse to call him 'Blade', that ridiculous name he goes by now instead of the perfectly good one I gave him) has hunted down and killed my kind, leaving no trace of his handiwork save for their ashes. He has been the thorn in the backside of my people for longer than any of us want to admit, and today we caught him. Finally, his crusade against us will end.

Though perhaps it's not fair to say we actually won a victory over him, since the way we captured him was through a trick.

Enraged by the brutal murder of his mentor, Whistler, Eric had come to Deacon's headquarters, my home, intent on killing everyone in the building. It had been a bloodbath, Eric leaving in his wake a trail of human guards riddled with silver bullets and two of our best vampire guards exploded to bloody pieces.

It seemed nothing could stop his rampage until he came to the room where I laid in my bed capsule, waiting for him. The moment he opened the doors and his eyes met mine for the first time since his birth, I knew he would not harm me, that his violent rage would not touch me. He had looked shocked to see me alive, happy even.

But in the moment that our eyes were connected, I knew for the first time his torment, sensed his pain. I even smelled it, as it clung to him like the scent of some sickness. And I have been shaken by the thought of him since then, because while I distracted him, Deacon's guards ambushed him and jolted him into unconsciousness with their electric batons.

As I watched them shock him until he lost the strength to fight back, Deacon came to my side and kissed my cheek; it was his thank-you for the trick I had played on my son. But strangely, I felt no joy in pleasing Deacon. Not this time.

In truth, I was almost angry that Deacon had interrupted my reunion with Eric, and if it hadn't been for the need to get on with the La Magra ceremony tonight, I might have protested to have had more time to talk with him. Maybe even have tried to persuade him to join us, instead of forcing him, even though Deacon insists to me that it would be a waste of time.

I sigh now as I sit on the couch, apart from the party in my bad mood, anxious to find something to do to help me forget about what I've done. I glance around and notice an attractive, dark-haired young man across the room staring at me, his eyes raking over the curves of my body, which are hugged by a black, low-cut shirt and pants. He is human; though I can't properly detect his scent through all the others crowding the room, I can tell he is not one of my kind by the flushed look of his skin, his naive smile.

I smile back suggestively at the boy, and he quickly makes his way over to me with two drinks, accepting my invitation. He hands me one of the glasses he holds, and I take a sip without thinking, frowning instantly in disappointment at the taste. It's only red wine, and it just serves to excite me further for a much richer kind of drink.

I toss the glass of wine over my shoulder and hear it plop as it hits the carpet behind me. The boy is confused by my action, but says nothing. I smirk at him.

"So...nice party, huh?" the boy says, trying to make conversation.

I grunt. I don't feel like playing with him, so without another word I grab him by the hand and lead him through the crowds toward the bedrooms in the back.

Startled, he mumbles, "Hey, where are we going?"

"Don't worry about that," I say in my husky voice. "Wouldn't want me to ruin the surprise, now would you, baby?"

He just grins at me. I slink through the open doorway of one of the dark bedrooms with him, and before he knows it, I'm shoving him down on the velvety black comforter of the bed. Kissing and stroking, I pleasure him, eager to drink from his willing throat.

"Whoa, slow down, baby," he mutters a little drunkenly in my ear. "We got all night and I want to enjoy every minute of this."

I grin. "You will."

"I'm Scott, by the way," he says, his words half lost in my luxurious curls as he fumbles with the zipper on my tight black pants.

My teeth sharpen as I trail kisses up from his chest to his pulsing throat. "Vanessa," I say, introducing myself in a breathless whisper.

Suddenly, he stops and removes his roaming hands from my body as if I'd bitten him already. "V-Vanessa?" he stammers out. "Wait, you're Vanessa? The one who belongs to Frost?"

I smile, flattered. "You've heard of me."

"Of course, who hasn't heard of you? You're the mother of that bastard freak Blade who keeps killing off his own kind!"

"How do you know about that?" I ask, confused. Most humans who are brought to Deacon's parties have no idea that half the guests are going to make happy meals out of them, less more know the details of my kind's problems and affairs.

But then something occurs to me. I yank his head to the side and as I expected, I see that this boy has a glyph stamped on the back of his neck. He's a familiar; one of those pathetic humans whose desperate desire in life is to become part of the world of my kind, to become a vampire.

Disgusted, I climb off of him and stand at the edge of the bed.

"My son is not a freak," I growl quietly, fangs flashing. Something about his comment infuriates me, makes my blood singe in my veins.

Before Scott can blink, I claw his face so brutally that his head is snapped aside and marks seething with blood are left in his skin where my sharp nails lashed out. Even though it's tempting, I am too sickened by him to bother licking away the blood from his gashes as he holds his face, whinnying in pain.

I storm out of the room, leaving that piece of shit familiar to enjoy his wounds, and I head for Deacon's office down the hall. I don't bother knocking, bursting into Deacon's room, and slamming the door behind me.

Deacon is sitting at his computer, reviewing the program that demonstrates the awakening ceremony for La Magra for what is probably the millionth time. He is so engrossed in it that he doesn't even notice me slamming the door shut.

I walk over to him, irritated. "Deacon!"

It takes a moment before he turns away from the computer screen, shifting in the leather swivel chair to look at me. He looks a bit surprised, probably because I haven't come to him this pissed off in years.

"You seem upset, baby. There a problem?" he asks in his usual nonchalant manner.

"Yes. It's about Eric –" I begin, my voice still low and silky, though with my anger clearly present. But he interrupts me.

"Oh, yeah, the Daywalker," he says. "I know, I'm glad we finally got his ass too. Couldn't have done it without you, baby." He stands, and his lips touch mine softly. The gratitude in his kiss is a bitter-tasting reward for my help in the capture of my son.

I shake my head, my dark curls bouncing slightly, and my eyes lower.

"Deacon, I can't," I whisper. "I just can't..."

"Can't what?" It only takes him a moment to realize what I mean. He is furious. "Don't you fuckin' chicken out on me now. We are too close, Vanessa. Too close to reaching destiny. Tonight I'm gonna let loose La Magra. I'm gonna rule this world as a god and lead our people into a new age of reign over the humans. And I need you to be there, by my side. I need you and Mercury and Quinn there, to witness it when I make history tonight. So don't you come to me now and fuckin' tell me you can't. You will, because I say you will..."

Then his tone softens, stroking my cheek, he adds, "Because I'm too charming for you to resist anyway."

I look away. "Oh, yeah, you're a real Casanova, baby," I mutter sarcastically.

He chuckles. "Fuckin' right." He tips my chin up, kisses me slowly, biting my lower lip to arouse me as he sucks away a few drops of my blood. And it seems it would be easy to forget about Eric now, to forget about the look of anger and hurt on his face when he realized my treachery...but I can't forget.

I don't think the memory of his pained expression will ever leave my mind. Because I have committed the worst sin of a mother: I have betrayed my son.

And what's worse, I don't even have the courage to redeem myself by saving his life tonight. Deacon is right, I will accompany him to the La Magra ceremony, but not only for the reasons he believes. Not simply because of my faith in our cause. Or my foolish love for him.

I will watch my son die tonight, sacrificed for the sake of our race...or maybe more accurately, for the sake of my conscience because I can't bear to look at him anymore without being ashamed for all the ways I have failed him.

Now, with my hips pressed into Deacon's and my open lips inviting his delicious kisses, I wonder how it came to this...I wonder when it was that I first dismissed any sense of maternal feeling for Eric and in an unforgivably selfish moment, too caught up in the pleasures of my new life as a vampire, stopped caring about him.

A/N: What do you think of my first Blade fic? Hate it, like it, love it? Please review and let me know what you think, I would love some feedback. And a huge thank you to all reviewers in advance. Peace, love. SA:.Cam