Disclaimer: I OWN KNOW NOTHING! besides Darla ALL RIGHTS TO CHARACTERS AND STORY OR PLOTLINE INCORPORATED IN THIS WORK BELONGS TO HBO OR SOME SHIT BUT NOT. ME.

now lets start this city burning kids :D

the way your makeup stains my pillowcase
Like I'll never be the same

- Fall Out Boy, Of All the Gin Joints In All the World

Darla liked red shoes. She had several pairs of them stacked away in her closet in the Hotel Bella Muerte and throughout her life she had bought and stolen maybe hundreds of pairs all of them different shades and styles but always red.

She could remember exactly when her obsession with footwear of the scarlet variety began. At the age of six Darla was already quite the delinquent. Her best (and only) friend at the time Billy Matthews had shown her how to pick locks and she had set out to practice her new skill.

In the old southern farmhouse where Darla and her grandparents lived there was only one locked door. The Room, it had always been locked. She had never asked why and neither of her grandparents would ever offer up any explanation. It was an unspoken rule that the room was to remained untouched, unknown.

Then on that day Billy Matthews, the town delinquent, had taught her how to break into homes and small businesses alike, Darla ran home and snuck past her grandmother in the kitchen then past her grandfather in his recliner up to the Room. Then like Pandora she unlocked her box and inside of it she found so many horrors that had set her entire life on a downward spiral at the tender age of six and among those nightmares she found a solitary pair of red heels. The first red shoes she ever stole.

Flight is a strange thing.

Godric remembered telling his progeny that when he had taught Eric how to fly. That had been such a wonderful night. To see the wonder and excitement in another's eyes was like living it again. He had felt so light and new in through Eric's eyes.

"Flight is a strange thing," Godric said perhaps to the small shivery body in his arms.

The air was cool up above the smoke and smog of the Dallas. Godric took a moment to enjoy the feeling but found that he felt nothing at all.

"Your employers will not be happy with your disappearance," Godric said definitely addressing Darla this time, "it is in your best interests to steer clear of the red light district for a time."

He set forth through the air towards his place of residence. He was slightly concerned by the fact that the girl had yet to say anything. Godric was afraid that she may have expired from all of the excitement but he felt her chest heave and felt her heart beat. His instincts assured him she was still alive.

There was nothing else that Godric wished to say and the girl would not speak so the rest of the journey was spent in tense silence. When Godric did touch down to the concrete of beginning of his driveway, Darla was halfway dead from shock.

She was pale her wide brown eyes practically eating up all the space on her face. Godric made to put her down so that she could walk herself to the door but thought better of it.

The gates opened and Godric walked up the drive way to the front door where Milton stood waiting for them. At the sight of another human being Darla seemed to snap awake. She pressed her hands into Godric's chest and her heels dug into flesh of his hips as she struggled to get free of him, which Godric allowed.

"Please, please," she said as she stumbled towards the older gentleman who made no move towards the distressed woman, "please you have to help me."

Darla's legs gave out and she hit the ground hard. She bit her lip on impact. She swallowed the blood and continued to go forward.

"Why are you just standing there!" she screamed swaying with the force of her shrieks, "help me help me."

Milton had worked for many vampires. Long before they had "come out of the closet", Milton had been in their employment. He had seen many horrible things, he had witnessed many terrible crimes and he had kept his silence through all of them. He had held his tongue. And this, a girl, a child barely clad in a sheer nightgown her breasts swinging, the flesh of her thin thighs jiggling as she begged and pleaded for help, this was nothing. He didn't even bat an eyelash.

"Shall I run a bath," Milton called to Gordic, "she's filthy."

Godric shook his head and Darla's pleas stopped abruptly. She looked between the two men as if realizing finally the situation she was in.

"No," she slurred a look of pure horror on her face; you could practically hear her heart plop down into her stomach acid, "NO!"

She seemed to burst into motion as she made for the gate. Godric, of course, was having none of this. It would be even more trouble is she got away. He'd probably have to call on Mr. Novak's services again. He ceased her in his arms before she could even get two feet and began to make his way into the house all the while Darla squealed and squirmed.

"No no no no," she said beating her small brown fists into any bit of flesh she could find.

She even landed a few good ones, though Godric could barely even feel them. Then he stopped suddenly, his eyes snapped wide and he looked down at the tiny human in his arms. She had bit him, actually used her teeth to bite into his cold undead flesh. The bloody animal.

Darla stared up at him defiant but Godric could hear her heart. Internal organs never lied. He knew she was scared. He could smell it, the salt and oils seeping through her pores gave him all the proof he needed. He continued on walking past Milton who stood at attention waiting for orders.

Once inside house Godric Darla seemed to calm. She fell silent and limp as if resigned to her fate. Godric set her gently onto the couch disturbed by her sudden change in demeanor. She crumbled to the side leaning all her weight onto one of the arms. Godric crouched down before her peering into the space where her face should be but all he could see was her hair draping long and sepia over her eyes and cheeks.

"Ms. Blake," he said cautiously at first but then again more forceful that time, "Ms. Blake."

There was some movement only a twitching really and then she spoke.

"Are you death?" said the curtain of hair, "have you come to take me away?"

Godric thought about her two questions very hard though his face did not show it. They were not new to him. Many people had asked him those questions, in different languages, different contexts. A hundred variations of the same words but he found there would only ever be on answer to that question.

"Yes," was his reply.

Then she began to sob again. It was a wonder that such a small body could hold so much moisture. All the water poured forth from her eyes. Godric didn't know it but that was the first time Darla had cried in front of a man in four years.

Godric had been born into life a slave and then brought into death a slave as well. Perhaps that was his lot in life. Perhaps it was that fear that had kept him from meeting the sun. The fear that when he did finally meet the true death all that would be waiting for him in that darkness was slavery. He had done so many dark deeds to emancipate himself from slavery. He had made deals with devils, personal and otherwise and had taken into himself a multitude of evils that would never wash away, even after 2000 years.

Godric had come to terms a long time ago that he would never be good. Good was no longer an option but somewhere along the line he had realized that he could at least be civilized. He could learn to be polite.

"Milton," Godric said knowing the suited man would be near by, "perhaps now would be a good time to run that bath."

Darla was still sobbing. The sounds were deep and heavy but so soft that only Godric could hear her. Her hair still hid her face which was raw and covered in snot. Mascara bled from her eyes down her cheeks. A few drops hit the fabric of the beige couch she sat on staining it.

"D-d-don't," she said stuttering from lack of air, "don't be nice."

Godric had been waiting for that. She was sobering up.

"Don't try to be nice about it," she repeated herself finally getting a goddamn grip, "just get it over with."

"I am not going to kill you," Godric said Darla lifted her eyes and peaked our through her hair.

"I'm not going to drink your blood either," Godric continued.

"Then what am I fucking here for," Darla shouted suddenly.

A yelp sounded and echoed from down the hall into the living room. It was the sound of Milton's disapproval of Darla's crass language.

"You are here because you asked to be here," Godric stated standing from his crouched position.

"No, now that is utter bullshit," she said pulling her legs up folding them into her chest, "I never asked to be here, I don't even-"

Godric stood back and waited for her to put it all together. He watched as a think layer of horror and recognition covered her face. He wanted her to remember. She would have to remember if she wanted to ever get better.

"Vampire Jesus?"

A/N: So it's kinda shit. I know but I just wanted to get it out there because I am gonna be swamped with essays and papers over the weekend and if I didn't finish it now then I probably would have taken another two weeks.

Anyway you know the drill, men (and women or whatever).

Go do me proud.