Author's Note: I'm thinking that I may change the rating of this story to M because I'm realizing as I write that it is very dark and there are rather graphic descriptions of bloodfeeding. Also, it would open the possibility for other scenes between Damon and Elena later.

Also, a unit of whole blood weighs 474 grams, while a half liter bottle of water is 500. I operated under the assumption that vampires and their senses would be able to tell even that minute difference.

I have to get out of here I thought to myself as I took another look at the nurse on the floor. Someone would be coming soon to find out why she hadn't come back with the blood bag. My transition was over, and while the world was not still unbearably bright and loud, I could clearly hear the things happening above me if I tried.

"How could this happen? She was fine, she just…"

It was Stefan. No doubt talking to Meredith, the miracle doctor who didn't play by the rules. Then I realized what she must have done. I didn't have a concussion. It was bad, and Meredith didn't like to lose. Moreover, she knew she would have had Stefan and Damon to contend with if I had died under her care. So she slipped me someone's blood. So who was it that was responsible for turning me? Which line did I come from? Which vampire could I not kill? Stefan would be furious if it was his.

"You need to calm down, you need to be there for her."

It was Meredith. She was begging. He must have the tortured soul look on his face. It was almost pathetic, really, how terminally sad he was. When I was human I found it appealing that he felt remorse for his actions. Even as a vampire I was not particularly happy about his ripper side, because it would give the rest of us a bad name and bad publicity.

"How long do you think before she wakes up?"

Stefan didn't know that I was already awake? I destroyed half the morgue and made mincemeat of a nurse. He must really be distraught not to have heard, let alone any human staff that might have been in any surrounding area.

I didn't want him to see me like this. Not with fangs out, bloodstained, and wild with having just satisfied my newfound bloodlust for the first time. I spotted the narrow window at the top of the wall. It led to the outside from the basement morgue and I ran to it, knowing that Stefan would be on his way any time now to check on me and make sure that I was okay, as okay as I could be anyway.

I grabbed part of the broken light fixture and slammed it into the window. The shards of glass exploded outward and flew farther than they should have. I needed to watch my strength now, even though I would be no match for Stefan or Damon, I could accidentally kill a human.

I brushed the remaining bits of broken glass away with my bare hands, feeling a featherlike prickling. I looked down to see that my hands were bloody with minute cuts that knitted back together before my very eyes. I hoisted myself up and with very little effort was able to crawl through the window, feeling the same prickling on my stomach, and I noticed that my sweater was torn.

Then I ran.

The world flew by faster than I could have believed before my transition, and just as I was sprinting away, I thought I heard Stefan's voice coming from the morgue, but I ignored it as I fled into the night. I had run almost to the opposite edge of town before I finally stopped and realized that I knew where and what I was running from, but I had absolutely no clue what I thought I was running to. I couldn't go home, there was no one to let me in. I couldn't go to Bonnie's or Caroline's without explaining what had happened, because they had undoubtedly been told that I was dead.

So that left the boarding house. My body must have known better than my mind where I had to go, because I wasn't too far away from it. I tested my new speed again and found that it was very refreshing to be able to run so fast without growing weary or out of breath. I was a bit hungry again though. Basic metabolism I suppose, just farther up the food chain. I smiled a bit as I let myself into the darkened house.

I'd always felt uncomfortable there at night unless I had one of the Salvatores with me. Now, I felt as if I belonged to the darkness. I didn't turn any lights on, but I could see perfectly. I wandered around a bit, my appreciation for the old furnishings increased somewhat now that I could appreciate the feeling of eternity stretching before me, and knowing that I might one day have a collection of five hundred year old books in their first editions. Of course, they would be things like Twilight and Harry Potter. Not exactly Shakespeare or Chaucer material.

I wandered over to the bookshelf and pulled out Heart of Darkness, then laid it on one of the end tables. I took off my torn, wet sweater and threw it away in the kitchen before I made my way down to the basement and grabbed another blood bag from Damon's chest refrigerator. I hefted it in my hand, as a unit of blood was slightly less than a pint, but its density was higher than water. It felt ever so slightly lighter than a standard half-liter bottle of water.

The label noted that it was type B+ which Caroline was always raving was her favorite. I listened to her offhandedly, not particularly caring one way or another which humans tended to be sweeter or more full bodied, like talking about wine. Now it was something I needed to care about.

I walked back up from the basement and fished a copper saucepan from under one of the cabinets in the kitchen. I put it on the stove and poured about a third of the contents of the blood bag into it, noticing that the consistency of cold blood was truly vile. Then I had an idea.

I filled a bigger pot with water, added a pinch of salt, and set it to boil. I poured the blood back out of the saucepan into a bowl and washed it out, then coated the bottom with olive oil. I wasn't hard to find the ingredients for a tomato sauce in an Italian household, and I combined them, adding the blood last so it would just be heated through by the time the pasta was done.

I admit, it was a bit strange, and the whole idea struck me as rather macabre, but to an outside observer, I would be just another teenage girl eating a plate of spaghetti for dinner. The normal image was a lot harder to pass off sitting with a cup, or wineglass, filled with blood.

I set the plate on the arm of the sofa and picked up the book, holding it on my lap with one hand and eating with the other. The metallic sweetness of the blood perfectly complimented the acidity of the tomatoes and the tang of the garlic. I smiled to myself again, and realized there were a lot of foods that I could add blood to so I could get my nutrients, but people wouldn't have to know.

I heard the door to the boarding house open, and I knew that someone had come looking for me. It wasn't the smartest hiding place, as Stefan would think to check it first. But it wasn't Stefan who rounded the corner into the living room.

It was Damon.