Disclaimer: I own nothing. Sadly.

First things first, this is not a love story. It is my story and I did fall in love, but after everything was over and had fallen apart, in the end I realised that love just wasn't enough. But for memory's sake, I'll start at the beginning.

I've always known that I was different. Not just because of gawks I received from strangers in our small town as I walked past hand in hand with my flaxen haired, blue eyed parents, when I had been born with dark skin and dark eyes. I was adopted as a baby when my parents were still living in New York City. My mother would explain when I was bordering on adolescence that she never wanted to raise a child in the city and shortly moved to Texas, terrified that I would fall in with the wrong crowd or get mugged or shot or, God forbid, have some sort of open creative expression in a city with some of the best art schools in the country. As long as I can remember I was used to feeling out of place but not just for those reasons.

I never got sick, I never bruised my knees when I fell off my bike. People used to joke that I had an immune system made of steel or must have been born a bionic kid. And I never really thought much about it until one day, when I was fifteen, I died. And I don't mean the kind of near death experiences you hear about on TV when kids fall into a river or get caught in a rip current and they end up trapped under water for a whole six minutes and then miraculously rescued and resuscitated.

I was dead. Fully dead. Corpse on a slab in a morgue dead. And then I wasn't.

I woke up right after what I assumed to be my own autopsy, staring down at gashes on my chest from incisions and only a thin sheet over my body to preserve any modesty. I remember I was alone when I woke up, I guess because they weren't finished with me, but before anyone came back I grabbed a set of medical scrubs from a counter and ran home before my parents realised I wasn't tucked away in bed. I don't know how and I don't know why, but I knew then that there was something indisputably wrong with me.

For years I kept my secrets to myself and in the mean time avoided any potentially dangerous situations or sharp objects. "Cleo, don't be so reclusive. You're too young to be so shy," my friends would tell me.

I never told anyone about the morgue incident, not my parents, not my friends. I remember being so scared that someone would put the pieces together so I hid it from everyone and eventually it just became easier to pretend that it never happened. I let everyone carry on thinking I was the bionic girl who never got sick or broke any bones and I was perfectly happy living like that.

But everything started the summer I finished high school, when I was on the verge of nineteen and waking up to the real world and all its noise. I was on the train home one moonless night from an art class I was still paying for in Dallas because my parents thought I was wasting my time and refused to fuel any of my "odd notions."

I was sitting by the window scrubbing the dried oil paint from my fingers with obscure, angsty music blaring in my ears, hardly paying any attention to the handful of passengers remaining let alone the few who climbed aboard at one of the first few stops. After a while I noticed that they sat together in a group and I could see them turn to each other to exchange glances and sometimes speak, which all sounds pretty normal, except for the way everyone else was looking at them. I gradually reduced the volume of my music because they weren't sitting that far from me and I was curious, I thought I might be able to catch snippets of their conversation.

I began to take note that the group of people all looked like they were in their early twenties, and they would glance around with these weird, uncomfortable smiles. I counted six of them, two women and four men. There was an old man in a seat ahead who hadn't taken his eyes off them since they arrived and after a while one of the women shouted over to him, "You got something to say, old man?"

I could have sworn I saw apprehension flicker in his eyes. "You people, you destroy everything!" he shouted back in a sad, pained voice, "you should be ashamed."

And the others burst into laughter, but the kind that was just for the sake of being hurtful. After a while of this, the tension in the air turned particularly sinister and all eyes were glued to the group. One of the men rose from his seat and kept his head down as he made his way to an empty seat in the back. I watched him as he passed me by but he didn't meet my eyes.

I looked ahead and pretended it didn't bother me, but when I did I locked eyes on another who had turned around in his seat to watch me. He smirked and flashed his teeth, two long white spikes of enamel on either end of his mouth. I stared down at my hands like I hadn't seen, my heart hammering away at the revelation. I had only ever met one vampire before that night, and it was very brief and I was sure I hadn't made a lasting impression.

Some of the others started to change seats, spreading around the train like they were covering ground. The train swerved around a sharp bend and I had to grip the seat ahead of me to steady myself. I pulled the earphones out of my ears because I realised they weren't fooling anyone anymore and watched them so carefully I didn't dare blink, as if just by watching them close enough I could ensure that nothing bad would happen. When they had every corner and every door guarded, I think everyone realised that something awful was going to happen. I know I did.

It happened so fast. There were cold hands on my skin and there was growling and hissing in my ears. I barely remember screaming but I know that the others did. They moved so fast I couldn't keep up with their movements, and one of them must have smashed the lights because I remember they started to flicker and eventually everything went dark. And then there was only teeth and nails, blood and torn skin. At first the pain was overwhelming, like battery acid poured on broken skin. And the screaming, the screaming was the worst of it. The sound of strangers begging for their lives and choking on their own blood.

I don't know what happened after that. I only remember a raspy feeling in my throat and thinking about how much I wanted to cough to get rid of it, and then hearing voices very faintly off in the distance. But my mind was sluggish and slow to process words that passed me by.

"It's a goddamn mess. I'll need more time to dispose of the bodies."

"Have you contained those responsible?" Came a stern voice.

"I don't give a shit who was responsible. It was bad enough having to glamour the station master who found them. The humans would come after us with pitchforks if this reaches the press."

"It will not come to that. The public will not find out about this." The speaker was guy as far as I could tell.

"Then clean it up, Sheriff. This is your jurisdiction, not mine." There was a clinking sound like the heels of high shoes walking away, and then there was silence.

I wanted to scratch my neck, my arms, my face, but I couldn't move my hands, I couldn't even open my eyes. I couldn't tell if I was alone, nobody was speaking anymore. Slowly, the numb feeling in my fingertips evaporated and I could feel something slick and oily underneath me and all over me.

My breath came back to me in a rush but made me splutter and cough up whatever was stuck my throat. I opened my eyes and for a brief moment everything was hazy. And then I saw him. He was standing over me with dark crimson flecks were sprayed on his shirt and I realised it was my own blood that I was still coughing up. His jaw was locked tight in an expression as close to shock as it was going to get. Chiselled features, light eyes, lips parting as if her were going to speak. Two shimmering fangs grazed his bottom lip and if I could have ran, I would have.

Only one person has witnessed my coming back to life and they turned out to be a vampire.

A/N: New story? I started writing this as a sort of exercise for my writer's block. My head was just swimming with ideas lately and I had to just get it out. And there can never be enough Godric centred fics, I feel. Reviews would be great, let me know what you think!