AN: This was written during one of many seminars, so I'm sorry if you don't like it. I just wanted to write something on the "relationship" between Stanton and Vanessa. Stanton is probably OOC in this, but then, how do you really capture someone else's character?
Summary: Stanton has gone on a search to understand this new feeling he's having. Why does Vanessa haunt him? Because it's a heroic worship. All he wants is to be close to her...
Disclaimer: I do not own Daughters of the Moon. If I did, well, Chris wouldn't be dead. -Cries-
It was strange as I watched her sleep, the beautiful blonde goddess of my ancient memories. Her hair fell partially over her tanned face, the golden strands gleaming in the pale moonlight coming from her bedroom window. I couldn't help it; I was fascinated with her. Not in a way that a man would be fascinated with a girl, but more as a young child finally meeting his hero. And it was true fact. This goddess was my hero.
She shifted slightly, and I felt my breath catch as I watched her move in her bed. What was it with girls and having such big beds? She seemed to sink in her bed, one hand reaching out to grasp one of her pillows like a life preserver. She seemed so innocent, sleeping there so peacefully now that her present troubles were gone.
I moved closer to her, wanting to observe her more. I couldn't understand it. So many Daughters, so many years. So why was she the one to show me kindness? I couldn't figure out this puzzle, and it was killing me. She had saved me. One act of kindness, and I could never hurt her. Yet, somehow, even if I could, I wouldn't. I wanted to protect this new goddess. She called to me, like a sister.
I sat next to her, sitting as closely as possible, as closely as I dared without waking her up. She lay strangely, her legs curled to her body while the other arm not reaching for her pillow was wrapped around something and holding it close to her body. She sighed. I looked away from her, glaring at the white wall covered in band posters. I didn't know this feeling, this obsession with the stupid girl. One moment I wanted to protect her, and the next I wanted to be so far away from her.
I had to know. I had to know why she haunted me. I kept thinking of that night when I was a child. She had seen the Atrox coming for me and scooped me up, despite the dangers to herself. And even though I was still taken prisoner, or a brief second I tasted freedom from darkness because of her.
She shifted some more beside me, showing me how restless her sleep was becoming. It was enough for me. Wrapped in her arm was the pillow I had left for her, the pillow with the word "Goddess" on it. Something in me buzzed with pleasure at the sight. She slept with my pillow!
Leaning over, I pushed the hair from in front of her face, finding her mouth. Her lips were soft and welcoming as I touched my own to hers in the briefest of kisses. No, I didn't want her as a man would want a woman, but I had realized the reason for my obsession.
I did love her. That was why I wanted to watch her. I loved my heroic goddess. And I would watch out for her, just in case.