Author's Note: Where the hell did this come from? Out from under my scarf, I guess! This little ditty is something I created when the tone I wanted didn't fit LA, so I stuck it in its own story.

Myth #1: Vampires have no reflection.

What a fucking lie. The moment I was created, I checked myself in the mirror to see that cute little fang that designated me as the undead. I check my reflection every day to make sure that the Frenchman has nothing to tease me about; no bogeys or leftover drool, not a single hair out of place, no bloodstains on my teeth from breakfast...the list goes on and on until I'm satisfied with my appearance and go to greet the night.

Master has no mirror in his room, nor does he need one…or so he claims. But I see things that I don't let onto. I see when he watches me get ready for a mission. I see when he stands behind me as I prepare for bed. His vision remains on me (why, I don't know) but I see the quick glances he gives himself, too. The flickering of interest as he takes in his unchanging appearance; the flick of tongue across teeth as he checks for remains of his own meals: I know some tiny part of him still cares about appearances.

Once he teased me for my love of men with facial hair. I had facial hair, once. He told me, his face in that usual smirk. I gave him a long look before I spoke truthfully:

"I think that you should grow it back. You probably look quite rugged and fierce with a beard." I turned, but still caught sight of his quick look in the mirror, hand flitting up to his chin to rub it briefly.

Oh yes, he cares.

I see myself reflected a million ways every night. My frightened visage in Father Anderson's glasses as he gets too close for comfort, The happy look I give Walter every time he says one of his kind, elderly quotes that always make me feel better, my professional smile as I take my orders from Sir Integra; yes, I'm a thousand people at once.

But I often wonder how people view me. If I was Master, I'd just read their minds, but I haven't gotten that far yet. Does Integra see me as just another employee? Does Walter think of me as a cute, neglected pet of Masters? I know about Anderson-he just sees another damned, lost soul to send to Hell, but here's the thing: I like my soul right where it is-in my body! My soldiers see me as something that lurks under their children's beds at night: a monster from old movies where Lugosi lurks in the shadows and Mel Brooks wrings a laugh by putting Dracula in a wig.

But only am I really myself-Seras Victoria-when I look in the mirror in my room. Master gets the privilege of seeing the real me. I wonder if he considers that. Most likely, since he's pretty perceptive about such things.

Last night, I caught a glimpse of the future. Master and I sat at my little table, where I'd "invited him over for dinner", which meant he'd just phased up to my room with his blood, joking about how he'd brought the wine so that I wouldn't have to buy any. I had my soup bowl and him his wineglass, and we allowed ourselves to relax. He sat on one end, I on the other, and we spoke not of FREAKS or Integra or stupid ol' Pip, but instead of books and music and why he had such an enormous hat. I laughed and he even offered me a real smile; one I'd only seen one before on the night I died. Turning slightly to mock-ignore a teasing comment, I saw us briefly in my mirror and had a sudden moment of clarity. Turning back, I placed my spoon in the empty bowl and addressed him.

"Master, you and I will be together forever, right?" He'd chuckled at that before taking a sip.

"You don't know the meaning of that word, Police Girl. By the time forever came, you'd be sick of me," he said with certainty. I smiled and didn't reply, instead sneaking another glance at the mirror. He was wrong, I decided.

I'd never tire of this.