Two thousand years.

It still boggles my mind that I have lived for so long. Most of the days it just blurs together into one single mesh of pictures and words. Of screams, and blood. Of tears and fear and the many variations of 'please don't do this'.

But in the end, it all passes by like the flicker of a flame.

There are days that I wake up from nightmares, days where I remember my victim's faces or hear their voices. Those are the days I feel the passage of time deep within my bones. Thrumming under my skin in little red cells. Aching like a bruise that is just on the verge of forming.

I feel it when I look up at the night sky, never seeing the sun or feel its warmth.

Those days occur more than most now. I cannot wake up without thinking of the pain on my victims faces, their screams, their bodies piling up by the dozens as I drained them dry over the course of my early years. When I didn't care about anything but survival.

My life does not have purpose anymore. Not like it did back then. I may have done horrible things during my human life and the early years of my immortal life, but I wasn't mindlessly wandering. I had a reason to live, then.

But not anymore.

My progeny, Eric, was what I clung to whenever the doubt, the anger, and the pain rose in my chest. When it threatened to spill out of my throat, leaving behind a burning sensation as proof of its existence. He is the closest thing I have had to a son my entire life. But he doesn't need me anymore.

I am proud of his successes, but I am also forlorn because he doesn't seek my advice like he did when he was young. He doesn't look at me with eyes full of awe, with determination to make me proud.

I miss those days the most out of everything. It is selfish, but I cannot help wishing someone needed me like he did again.

Of course, I will not lie about the thought of ending my life. It wouldn't take much, just walk out of my nest as the sun rose, or stake my heart. It would take barely a few minutes.

I manage to fight these thoughts every time they come to the surface but sometimes, I wonder...

I wonder about a lot of things.

Such as if there is a place for us after we die. There most likely isn't. I mean, I don't see how monsters like us would deserve a heaven after everything we have done to humans over the span of years that we have existed on earth. I try to be better towards them, the humans, but that doesn't erase my mistakes. So, even if there is a heaven, only the deserving would get in.

And I am not one of the deserving.

"Godric." Isabel Beaumont, my fellow nest mate, speaks softly. She places her hand on my shoulder and shakes it gently, gaining my attention.

"What do you need Isabel?" I say in a polite tone, looking up at her standing over me.

Her eyes, however, are shifting around the room nervously, obviously looking to see if Stan is within hearing distance. But he is not. I sent him out to run quite a few errands, so he will not be back for a few hours. Hopefully longer, if we are lucky.

As much as I love him, Stan can be rather brash to humans and vampires alike. I try to be lenient with him because I was the same when I was his age. Hopefully, if given time, he will change for the better like I have.

"There is someone here who wishes to speak with you. Right now." Isabel says, her voice still quite regardless of the fact that Stan is not here. There are many vampires in the room who view humans the same way as he does, which is why she is being so cautious.

"What do they want?" I ask. My curiosity is peaked.

She pauses briefly, gathering her words before speaking again. "It would be best if we spoke about this in private." She insists.

I look at her, truly look at her, and realize how nervous she is. Her eyes continue darting around the room, her posture tense, her lips tight.

What on earth could this person want that has shaken her up so badly?

"Alright then. Lead me to this person." I stand up from my chair and follow alongside Isabel. Her heels clack against the tile in a timely manner, like the monotonous ticking of a clock. She leads me down the hallway, turns to the left and down a set of stairs. It takes all but five minutes to arrive to our destination.

Once I walk in, I am hit with a strong scent of human. I take a deep breath, relishing the smell, before looking at the person emanating it.

It is an adult woman. She has blond hair that stops at her shoulders, piercing olive-green eyes, a broad nose and full lips. She looks to be in her thirties but still retains some youthfulness. She has a healthy tan from spending days in the sun - a pang of envy courses through me - and she is wearing a navy pantsuit.

"Hello." I address her. "May I ask what is it you need to speak with me about?"

I can hear her heart race, like a hummingbird, as she walks over to me. But she shows no anxiousness on her face. "My name is Sasha Weathers." She speaks softly and holds out her hand, waiting for me to respond. I give her a kind smile and gently shake her hand as she requested. "I work with social services."

My eyes widen in surprise. Social services? Why would they need to speak with me?

She continues on. "I am here on behalf of a child that was placed into our custody just short of a week ago." She walks over to her briefcase - which is opened and sitting on the office desk - and picks up the first packet of papers from it to set it on the desk. "His name is Felix and he is believed to be eight years old." She again grabs something out of the briefcase but instead of setting it on the desk, she hands it to me.

It is a picture of a boy. Who strikes a massive resemblance to me.

"What... What does this have to do with me?" I ask, my voice trembles with confusion.

The woman, Sasha, winces slightly. "Everything, sir." She takes the packet from the desk and starts reading from it. "He, as you can see, bears a striking resemblance to you. We couldn't really believe it at first so we ran his DNA through every test we could. Ended up with no results."

"So?"

"I came here to ask for your blood." She bites her bottom lip. "We want to see if he is related to you."

I blink at her in astonishment.

Isabel, who I just now remember is in the room, coughs to get my attention. I look over at her questioningly.

"I just got a call from Stan. He will be back in less than ten minutes." Isabel says, worry written plain on her face.

I sigh deeply. "Damn it."

Sasha glances between the two of us. "I take it Stan is not welcomed in the nest?" Her posture is tense, as if she is ready to bolt and frankly, I do not blame her.

"No, Stan is our nest mate. He just... He does not like humans much." Isabel states quietly.

I grab the vial from the desk, Sasha went over in detail that she intends for the vial to hold my blood. My fangs emerge and, in the background - almost like white noise - I hear her gasp quietly. I ignore it and bite into my wrist. I hold the bleeding wound over the vial and watch as it fills well over the amount that she requested.

Once it can hold no more, I cap it and hand it back to her. "You must hurry. It would be best if you were gone before he arrives." I grab the papers that she placed on the desk and put them in her briefcase at vampire speed as she puts the vial in a container that will keep it from breaking should it be mishandled.

"We don't have much time Godric." Isabel whispers, it is quiet enough to where Sasha cannot hear her as she speaks.

Sasha places her hand on my shoulder, stopping me mid motion. "We still need to talk about Felix's condition."

"We will Sasha, but it is important for you to get out of here now."

Just as I was about to practically drag Sasha out of the room, Stan walks in.