Hi it's always really nerve-wracking posting to a new fandom. Bu I love Morganville Vampires and my muse decided that this absolutely had to be written. And now it's written it may as well be posted. I just hope you like it.

Denial

This can't be happening. My expression is frozen into a wide-eyed look of absolute horror but my mind is calm. Deadly calm. Too calm, I suppose, to be truly appropriate for the situation but in truth there is nothing to worry about. Because even though what is taking place in front of me is of my own design, this can't be happening.

Even when I see the lethal flash of sharp white, even as I watch my father sink his fangs into Sam's neck, even as I watch those determined china blue eyes drift further and further away from this world, I know it can't be happening. I am aware that someone is screaming and then I become aware that it is me. Silly, really, because there is nothing wrong. There can't be.

This is all so surreal; a dream perhaps, although I have not had a dream in many hundreds of years. A hallucination then. I do recall taking poison so maybe hallucinations are one of the side effects for a vampire.

Sam took the poison as well and will need the antidote soon. He is too young to survive with the poison in his system for long. Why is Oliver standing so still? I had given him very clear instructions where Sam was concerned, made certain to give him no room for misunderstanding, error or for deliberate misinterpretation which is something I definitely would not put past Oliver despite the way our fragile ties and sense of 'fraternity' had been strengthened by the unexpected return of my father.

So what was he waiting for? If Sam dies because of Oliver's foolishness then my fury will be limitless and endless. I shift slightly in my bonds trying to signal to Oliver that now is time for action. But he stands as still as the block of ice that I pretend to all but Sam that I am.

Bishop, the man I am cursed to call my father, finishes draining Sam and, with a swift malicious glance at me, drops Sam's body to the floor. Little Claire runs towards my father and I admire her bravery. Of course they say that bravery is really just a synonym for stupidity and I dearly hope that Claire's stupidity will not lead her to untimely end. Claire is a sweet girl and I have no idea where I would find a new apprentice for Myrnin.

My father stumbles, which confuses me before I remember the poison Sam had taken at my command. The poison had been the first of the end game moves in this twisted game of sacrifices and strategy. I begin to worry that Sam isn't moving - surely he should be getting up now? The poison must be making him weak. I feel helpless, something I am not accustomed to feeling. Oliver really must administer the antidote soon or Sam will die. And Sam Glass cannot die.

Bishop is bleeding and I watch, almost hypnotised by the scarlet blood that causes a surge of delicious satisfaction; he truly deserves to be hurt, to begin to feel the pain that he has sought to bring to others. He deserves a world of endless agony for hurting Sam and from preventing me from giving the antidote to Sam myself since Oliver is being so foolish.

As Bishop stumbles again I see the book, my book, and scream for someone to get it. I watch as little Claire complies. That book is important to me. My father will no longer have any hold over this town and so in truth it doesn't matter whether he has the book or not, but I would prefer the book not to get blood on it.

Oliver finally decides to move. He snaps my chains and I snarl at him to let him know that I furious with him for so endangering Sam's life by refusing to act before now and then I am by Sam's side.

He looks…wrong.

Bishop drained him. Drained him. A vampire as young as Sam wouldn't survive that.

A dull sense of panic begins to set in. This isn't happening.

Sam's eyes are far away but as I stare into them they focus on me. He looks weak.

I told him to drink the poison so that if Bishop chose to drain him, Bishop would become weaker. Weak enough to kill. I knew the risks. I knew that whoever he chose, would die. There was no getting around that. I had to cover all the angles.

Bishop had chosen Sam.

Hysteria made my chest feel tight. This isn't happening.

I wanted to scream it out. I wanted to yell, for everyone to hear that this wasn't real. This wasn't happening. Sam Glass could not be dying.

Instead I finally spoke the words I should have spoken to him everyday since I had selfishly turned him. I told him he was right. I told him I loved him.

He smiled and his eyes closed and that was all wrong.

Sam Glass couldn't be dead.

This isn't happening.

Reviews would be great – if there's anything I can improve on let me know.

Thanks for reading. I hope you like it.