I just realized that this one is really long too. Lol. Sorry, but ya know. Lot to say. I recommend not skipping tho. Hehe. I do bring in 2 new characters, don't worry Rachel, they don't screw with the plot at all. Bleeehhh. Just a story you vicious orange lamps.

Claire couldn't see. Everything was dark. Then she saw flames. She could almost smell smoke. "Claire!" she heard Shane's voice scream.

She woke with a gasp for breath. She looked around. Everything was as it was.

A video game menu music kept playing on a loop. She and Myrnin- mainly herself- fell asleep on the couch. She laid on Myrnin's heartbeat-less chest. (No, they didn't do anything. …Sick-os)

Her gasp woke Myrnin. "What is it?" he asked softly, his voice glazed with sleep. "Just a dream," Claire responded. "About…?" Myrnin questioned, running his fingers lovingly through Claire short hair. "The fire…" Claire sighed.

It had been almost three months since the day her best friend Eve and her boyfriend Shane died.

"That's strange," he said, sitting up, "have you dreamt about this before?" Claire hesitated. She had, but never really told him. "Once or twice…" "Why didn't you tell me?" "I didn't want it to pull us apart or something." Myrnin got a confused puppy look. "Pull us apart?" "Yeah. I kept hearing Shane's voice cry out to me. And I thought…"

"It's only a dream. How you react, tells the tale."

Claire blushed. "Thanks." "My pleasure. Now, it's four in the morning, either you go back to sleep, or get up and recite the periodic table in order of atomic number." Claire squeezed her arms around Myrnin.

"Hydrogen, helium, lithium," Claire whispered. She felt Myrnin's hands stroking her back smoothly. She would get back to sleep quickly at this rate.

All of the sudden the two heard a woman's voice from up the staircase. "Myrnin? Are you there?" "Amelie?" Myrnin said, confused. He gently slid up, plucked Claire off himself, and signaled for her to stay in place. She nodded and Myrnin grabbed his coat. His idea of pajamas was sweat pants and a plain white T. Claire was dressed in cotton shorts and a blue tank-top.

Claire heard Myrnin make his way up the steps and open the door. "Myrnin," she heard Amelie say, "Frank Collins is back. He's looking for Claire."

Claire could almost feel the rage pour out of Myrnin. "What does he want with her?" he asked/demanded. "I'm not sure," Amelie replied, "But he broke into my office asking for her." "Well I'll keep her safe." "Good. She's a liability, that's for sure." "Liability?"Myrnin growled back, "Choose your words carefully Amelie." Claire heard Amelie hiss something in a foreign language and heard the door close.

Myrnin walked back down the steps and sat next to Claire. "Frank is back?" she asked, grabbing hold of Myrnin's arm. "Yes," Myrnin responded. He grumbled something Claire was pretty sure was in French and sunk down. "Don't worry," Claire assured while brushing the hair out of his eyes, "I'll be fine."

"You will. But you always find some way to get into trouble. And that's what scares me."

Saturday morning came normally.

Well, as normal as it could be with your century old vampire boyfriend. Claire had developed a routine, while Myrnin didn't like falling into a loop. He had recently finished the book Everlost, a book about two teens who enter a ghost world known as Everlost.
Anyhow, he had gotten uncomfortable with routines. It was kind of annoying, Myrnin's personality being so bendable. But Claire learned to look past it. That, and how Myrnin's breath would reek of blood on certain occasions. He was worth it.

Claire sat on a counter and brushed her hair while Myrnin picked out foot wear.

"Is it going to be warm today?" he asked, eyeing his flip flops. "Lord, Myrnin. You spend more time looking for something to wear than I do." "I'll take that as a yes." He grabbed the thin plastic [insert another word for flip flop cuz I can't think of anything], slipped them on, and walked over to the stair case.

"You're one to talk," he said. Claire rolled her eyes. "Think fast." Claire threw the brush at Myrnin. He caught it without looking and tossed it onto the couch. "Come on," he yawned.

"Not fair."

"Maybe you need to be faster."

"Maybe you need to be slower."

Myrnin smiled. "What fun would that be?"

It was nearing summer in Morganville. Goody. Texas in the summer. Not fun. The two walked outside and was welcome by a fresh gust of hot air. Claire stayed in the shade of the buildings with Myrnin. The sun just made it worse.

"You remembered that umbrella, right?" Myrnin asked quickly as they neared the edge of the shade. "Yeah." Claire popped open a black umbrella. It reminded her of Eve…

"Thank you," he said, smiling. She handed him the sun cover and they began their walk down to…

"Where are we going?" Claire asked when Myrnin lead her down a different turn rather than the one to a breakfast-serving restaurant. "To call a friend of mine," he responded.

"Uh, I have a cell phone, Myrnin.

"Phah," Myrnin tutted, "Phones are overrated. Plus, I don't think he'll get much service underground."

So many questions.

Claire hopped in front of Myrnin. He halted. "What?" "Okay before we go any farther, who is this guy?"

"I haven't told you?" Myrnin asked.

"Don't answer my question with a question!"

Myrnin smiled. "You're so cute when you question." Claire rolled her eyes. "Who is this dude you're talking about?" "This 'dude' is a vampire named Ainsley." "Is he a brainiac like you?"

"Well, he's smart," Myrnin began, "but he uses his intelligence for himself rather than others."

"What do you mean?" Claire wondered.

"I will tell you after we send a messenger." Myrnin tussled Claire's hair and walked around her. Claire followed, her mind still going through the possibilities.

Myrnin lead Claire to small shack on the edge of Morganville. There was a sign that said "open" on the outside. Myrnin opened the glass door for Claire then let himself in. The shop smelled like old wood. Mainly because the floor was wooden as were the walls. There was a sofa to Claire's right with a small coffee table in front of it and a table to her left. At the back of the room there was an older looking woman.

Graying hair, flower print shirt, glasses. She smiled when she caught sight of Myrnin.

"Myrnin!" she said joyfully. Myrnin returned the smile. "Hello, Sydney." "It feels like it's been ages," Sydney replied with an exasperated tone, "Where have you been?"

"I was… sick for a while."

"Well, are you feeling better these days?"

"Much."

The two had worked their way up to the counter. Sydney then noticed Claire. "And who's this little lady?" "This is Claire Danvers, my…" Myrnin searched for a word, and then smiled, "my missing part."

Claire blushed. "Hi."

Sydney grinned. "Really? Wow. Well, congratulations," she paused, "So, what can I do ya for?"

"I need a message sent to Ainsley P. Jensen," he replied. "Ainsley? But you two haven't spoken in years! Why now?" "I need something from him." "Since that spat you two had, I thought you'd never speak again," Sydney gasped. From the look on his face, Claire could tell Myrnin was getting impatient. "I know. But that was over forty years ago. Can you send the message or not?" "Well, yes, but-" "Syd," Myrnin interrupted, "It's important."

"Okayyy," Sydney sighed, "Letter, bird, or person?" "Letter please," Myrnin replied. Bird?

Sydney bent down and grabbed a piece of paper and pen. She handed it to Myrnin and said, "Be sure to say you're sorry." Myrnin rolled his eyes. "Even though he started it," he grumbled quietly. Myrnin walked over to the couch and began to write, using the coffee table as a surface.

Sydney scoped Claire. "So, how long have you known Myrnin?" she asked suddenly. "Um, a while. Two years, I think," she replied, "You?" "Over twenty, I believe. Not counting the 6 years he disappeared." "How did you meet him?" "Here in Morganville. He tried to attack me actually. When I realized he was hurt, I helped and we've been friends since."

"Wow."

"Yup. Back in the day. Those were goods times. Now I work in this shack, sending special letters, and then go home to a diabetic husband," Sydney sighed, "It's wonderful."

Claire smiled. "That's cool. Hey, what do you mean by special letters?"

"Oh, I just send letters or messengers in secret."

"Secret?"

"Yes. Like when you send a letter at the post office, they make note of who it's going to, where it's going, and who it's from," said Sydney, "Here, you can send the stuff off the record."

"Why would someone-"

"You ask a lot of questions, girly," Sydney interrupted with a smirk.

Claire hesitated. Then she was saved when Myrnin walked up with the letter.

"Here," he said, "Mail it to Ainsley's old address." Sydney held out her hand. "Uh, hem?" Myrnin stared at her in confusion, then snapped back, reached into his coat pocket, and gave Sydney a wad of cash. Sydney proceeded to count it. Claire saw a lot of twenties.

"Okie dokie. I'll make sure this gets to Ainsley," she said finally.

Myrnin smiled. "Thank you," Myrnin locked arms with Claire and yanked her out. Once outside, Myrnin popped open the black umbrella.

"Okay, question. Who is Ainsley?" Claire asked quickly.

Myrnin wrapped an arm around Claire and pulled her close. Still walking, he replied, "I met Ainsley Jensen in London about sixty years ago…"

-London, England. 1949-

Myrnin [Rachel Caine needs to insert a last name for this man!] looked around nerously. His illness was getting worse, he could almost taste it. The confusion, the anger, the madness. He stood breathlessly behind a house. The night air cold and refreshing he searched for victims. Myrnin hid in the shadows the minute he heard footsteps.

As the steps grew louder, Myrnin grew more anxious. Ah he thought the thrill of the hunt. He saw the person. Male, approximately 5' 10'', size 11 shoe. The moment he was in line of perfect sight, Myrnin leaped into the moonlight. A frustrated yelp came from the man as Myrnin attacked. They both fell to the ground with a thud.

"Get off me you idiot!" he growled. Myrnin was about to bite when the man threw back a threatening hiss with a pair of fangs of his own. Myrnin collapsed embarrassed and hungry.

The man got to his feet. "What is wrong with you?" He should have checked for a heartbeat. That's always the thing he checks first. This disease is become a real pain in the neck he grumbled to himself.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't-" Myrnin stumbled for words, "I'm sick. I don't know what's going on anymore…"

"Sick?" the vampire questioned, "How-"

"I have no idea! I have been studying it for years!" Myrnin shouted, "Ah!" He just got a massive throbbing in his head. He fell back holding his head.

The man was immediately at his side. "Come, I will help."

-Present-

"I blacked out," Myrnin continued, "and next thing I knew, I was on this gorgeous red velvet couch."

The two had walked into a book store and were now talking at a table in the corner of the room.

"Wow. You were that…" Claire trailed off, not wanting to offend. "Crazy? Mad? Psychotic?" Myrnin finished, smirking, "Yes. Indeed I was. But that's not the best part."

-London-

Myrnin woke on a red velvet couch in front of a fire. He looked around, scoping his surroundings. His head ache was gone, but he was now starving. "Here." The man held out a cup of what smelled like AB negative. Myrnin took it gratefully.

"My name is Ainsley," the kind vampire greeted. Myrnin took a swig of the blood and responded, "Myrnin." "Strange name. How old are you?" Myrnin chuckled. "I can't remember." "Really? Wow. Me neither," Ainsley laughed. Ainsley's chocolate hair was tied back in a pony tail, but strands still hung in his ocean blue eyes.

Myrnin took another sip from the cup and sat up.

"Thank you so much. You really didn't have to-"

"It's my pleasure," Ainsley interrupted, "You looked like you needed it. Heh."

"So," Myrnin began after another sip, "Where am I?" "Underground," Ainsley replied breathlessly. "What?"

"I feel it's the best way to avoid the sun and," Ainsley chuckled, "who's going to check if someone lives next to a grave yard underground?"

"Um, great. Stereotypical, but great," Myrnin replied with a smile.

-Present-

"Underground."

"Yes."

"You lived underground, for twenty years."

"Yes."

"Myrnin."

"Yes?"

"You're crazy."

Myrnin smiled. "Yes, but you love it."