Author's Note: I have two other stories, but I only have time to publish one of them in the coming weeks. Would you guys rather read a story about Rosalie adjusting to vampire life or Edward's mother asking Carlisle to turn Edward? Review and tell me.

Disclaimer: I don't own this

Tuscany, Italy, now known as Volterra

1000 A.D.

The city of Tuscany was as silent as a tomb. The streets, usually busy, were deserted, and rightfully so. The white flag announcing the dreaded plague hung over most of the city, even where the wealthy and powerful lived. No one was immune, and it spread like wild fire, killing every man, woman, and child unfortunate enough to cross its path. Plagues were considered a curse for a reason. Everyone had to look at their neighbors, friends, and even family with suspicion, and they dared not embrace a relative returning from a distant land in case they brought the plague home with them. Stepping outside your door became a gamble, and you only knew your neighbors were dead when you smelled their decaying bodies.

But although the stench of rotting flesh and death was horribly pungent, the first thing Aro noticed about the city was the huge, leaping bonfires that illuminated the dying city around him. The fires were as bright to his vampire eyes as the sun had been to him as a mortal, and were the mass funeral pyres of those who had died of the plague, he knew. But that didn't lessen their terrible brilliance.

If he ever died, fire would consume his body, just as it consumed these humans'. In that they were the same. It was startling to Aro to feel any kinship with these humans, but there it was. With this realization came an unexpected jolt of pity. And like these humans, he knew he'd fight the end with everything he had.

Taking notice of him, a woman in the street begged, "Please, sir, do you have any water?" Aro looked her over. She had been beautiful once, with hair as golden as a wheat field and eyes of pale cornflower. High, bold cheekbones, plump lips, and a slim pixie nose gave her a stunning beauty that would make her noticed wherever she went, if she were not presently covered in grime and exhausted. Her dress was in tatters, as she had clearly been wearing it for a while, and bore a few bloodstains. Perhaps she had been a nurse before she had taken ill, especially since she was surrounded by bodies.

Some of them were already changing color and giving off a putrid scent, rats and fleas nestled among them. As flies swirled around the wealth of rotting carcasses, the humans' sightless eyes stared up at the stars in the night sky in a futile prayer for mercy. There must be too many to burn, then, if these obviously infected corpses were left here. Though why the bodies lying by their well weren't a priority, he didn't know. Humans were no better than animals if they left filth where they ate, drank, and lived.

Except for this one. Her eyes, no doubt once beautiful, were now bloodshot and exhausted, with perhaps a hint of madness setting in. She knew the same thing he did; she would be dead within hours. The water wouldn't cure her, so it didn't really matter if he gave her some or not, but it would make her slightly more comfortable. On impulse and not really understanding why he'd done it, he crossed to the city's well less than fifty feet away. After all, whether she lived or died shouldn't matter to him, nor should her comfort. To him, humans had two uses: food and to make more of his kind. So why did the thought of her suffering something even as small as thirst make him frown? He put the water in a chalice that lay forgotten next to the well, as if someone had meant to get water and then forgot about it. Or died.

He helped her sit up to drink it. "Thank you," she whispered. He suspected she'd probably die within the hour; his nose already told him her body was rotting from the inside, which had to be excruciating. "What is your name," he asked her, partly to distract her from her pain and partly because he was curious. No other human in 2,000 years had inspired any kindness or mercy on his part, and he was curious why this one had.

"Sulpicia," she replied, coughing. Aro scented blood and grew very still. He was an old vampire, so he had learned to control himself around blood, but his chest grew tight. Odd, since he no longer breathed. Perhaps he was going daft in his old age.

In an instant he realized two things. He couldn't let her die, and there was only one way to save her. He wanted to know her and why something about her seemed to call to him. "I can save you," he told her quietly. "How," she demanded. "Can you perform miracles?"

"No," he replied, "but I can make you like me." Sulpicia seemed to think for a moment. "How are you immune to the plague?" she finally asked, a wary look in her eyes. "What kind of devil are you?"

He arched a brow. "You don't think I could be an angel?" She snorted in disbelief. "You are no angel." He grinned. She saw right through him, even as she lay dying. This female was perfect for him, he realized. And she had to be his mate. There was no other reason for a human to make him react this strongly.

"You're right, though I've never met another human who was bold enough to call me a devil." She didn't look afraid of him at all, in fact, her lips curled. "I'm dying. Why not be brave now?" True enough. They were out of time. "Do you want to live," he asked, praying her answer was yes. Though he had turned the unwilling before, he didn't want that for her. Especially not if she was who he thought she was.

"No, I do not wish to die. Make me like you," she beseeched. He smiled faintly, relieved at her choice, though it didn't lessen his guilt over the pain she would suffer. He tried to justify it by telling himself she would die without it, but the truth was that even letting her linger and die of this plague would be less painful than becoming a vampire. Only a madman would call changing her a mercy.

"This will hurt, but it is the only way you will survive. Be strong, my Sulpicia, and when you wake, you'll have a new life." He leaned over her and nuzzled her neck. She weakly tried to move closer, impatiently waiting for him to do whatever he was going to do. He bit down hard, rising as he did so, already running toward his home as she began to scream.