a/n Final chapter. Enjoy :)

CHAPTER 10—IMPERIAL MEMORIES

Snow was on the ground again, but Alma's sharp eyes noted the differences of where she was now, as opposed to where she was a few days ago. There weren't mountains, just a lot of trees and some hills. Looking out over the field, she breathed in the crisp night air and cleared her head a little before reaching for the remote for the stereo in her car and turned up the radio.

"I remember when this song came out," she said, smiling. "I used to play the record on the little player I got my hands on."

"Did you believe it?"

"I did then." Alma lit a cigarette and leaned a bit more on the hood, giving it a loving pat as she did so. "Came out right after I bought the car."

"I can't believe you had this car the whole time we've been together, and I've never even heard about it!" Seth mock pouted a little, but she knew he was still a little bitter.

A delighted laugh escaped from her lips. "A girl's gotta have a little mystery."

"Yeah, but keeping a 1959 Chrysler Imperial from me is just mean," he said. "I can't believe you have this car."

"I had a good time in Vegas," she said. "I took three gangsters for a walk at the blackjack table. For some reason," she said, her eyes twinkling, "they were having a hard time getting their words out. Seemed like their mouths were a little flabby." She took a drag of her cigarette, grinning. "Musta been all those Tom Collins somebody kept ordering." She laughed at the memory. "That was where I won the money for the car to get me back to Texas, and the house when I got there."

"And nobody ever tried to track you down or anything?" She knew Seth had a hard time, sometimes, wrapping his head around her age. "They didn't look you up or anything?"

She grinned wickedly. "You could get away with a lot more back then." She rubbed the hood again. "I bought my baby and was so in love with it, I locked it up. Drove her to keep her in shape, washed and waxed it. This is only the second time she's left Texas, except for when I first got her."

"'She?'" Seth asked, eyebrows going up. "Does she have a name?"

"Consuelo." The grin widened. "It means consolation in Spanish. I looked at her as my consolation prize for getting stuck with Maria. I was going through a rebellious stage. Wanted something she couldn't have. So I won my money, bought a car, and got a storage unit for it. Every time she made me miserable, I thought of my car. When I left, the first thing I did was get her back and drive her from California to Texas on Route 66 with the windows down, smoking grass, picking up hitchhikers." She felt her eyes sliding out of focus, the memories pulling her back…

August 1969

The dry Arizona heat didn't phase Alma as she stepped out of the Imperial, feeling better than she'd felt in years. Better than she'd felt when she'd bought her little piece of freedom. It had been two weeks, and Maria hadn't followed her. Alma had called her a few days ago, and the Mexican woman assured Alma she knew better than to sneak up on her. She gave no hint of her whereabouts, although Maria was curious, and had hung up, satisfied.

Sure she looked a riot, Alma closed the door behind her, gnawing on her gum to keep herself contained as the attendant walked toward her. She watched from behind her glasses while he raked his eyes up and down her body. She could probably get arrested for wearing the tiny short shorts with a men's dress shirt, tied to bare her midriff and rolled up to her elbows. The crazy yellow, Italian leather shoes probably didn't subtract from the appeal she knew she gave off. Why did everyone have to stare when she was just dressed for comfort?

She tossed the keys to the attendant, instructed him to fill the car with gas, and headed inside. The man behind the counter stared at her, and she glared at him.

"Hey," she barked, and his head jolted. "I'm up here, jackass."

The man sputtered a little, but didn't blurt out anything she could make sense of.

"Y'all got Lucky Strikes?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am," the idiot said, and he fumbled around to get them for her. "Anything else?"

"No." She glanced outside. "Just gas." She put a five dollar bill down on the counter. "That should cover it. Keep the change."

Back outside, the kid was still pumping her gas. He was also smoking a cigarette, and she raised her eyebrows at him.

"Ain't that supposed to be dangerous?" she asked.

The kid laughed. "If I were gonna throw it on the ground, it would be." He held it out to her, but when she waved her own fresh pack at him, he just chuckled, handing her the cigarette anyway. "Go with me on this one, baby," he said.

"Call me baby again and you ain't gonna have to worry about havin' any," she growled, before inhaling.

It wasn't tobacco.

Fifteen minutes later, the kid from the gas station had turned in his apron, grabbed his bag, and hopped in Alma's car. He rolled another joint, and they smoked while they drove.

"I still can't believe I stuck it to him like that," the kid laughed.

"So what's so important in New York that you have to go?" she asked.

"There's this music festival in two weeks," he said. "They're saying it's gonna be one for the books."

"Well, like I told ya, I can take you as far as Texas," she said. "Then you're on your own."

"That's just fine, Miss Alma," he said, smiling.

Over the next hour, she learned that his name was Joey Anderson, he was 18 years old, he loved cars and therefore hers, and he had no desire to go home. He wanted to start over…

It was the first time she'd conversed with a human, and she found it comforting not to talk about blood, battle tactics, blood, territory, and more blood. He told her about the people he'd seen on their way to California, and how he longed to go, but there was nothing for him in L.A. New York was where he wanted to be.

Outside of Flagstaff, another human was along the side of the road, thumb out, long skirt fluttering in the breeze. Alma pulled the Imperial over.

"Where you headed?" she asked.

"New York," the girl said. She stuck out a hand. "I'm Mary."

Alma carefully shook the girl's hand. It was soft, and warm. "Whereabouts in New York?"

"There's this concert gonna be in two weeks," she said, grinning. "I don't have a car, so I'm starting over now."

"No shit," Alma said, laughing. "Well, I'll cart you as far as Amarillo, then you're on your own, but Joey here's going to that concert, too."

"Where you headed after you drop us off?" Joey asked.

"Houston." Her decision was made. "I'm going to an Astros game. Then down south, probably past Corpus Christi. Looking for a new house."

"You're going to go to an Astros game instead of the greatest concert of all time?" Mary asked, raising her eyebrows.

"I'm not much into all the hippie shit," Alma replied, smiling. "No offence. Just not my style."

The rest of the drive to Amarillo was fairly uneventful. Alma pulled over for four hours to sleep, long after the other two had dozed off, and woken before them. She passively observed, a skill she'd honed with Maria, and noticed that there was a great deal of chemistry between the two…

In Port Mansfield, eight years later, she received a call from a friend. She'd smiled, a little bittersweet, when she'd opened her paper to see a picture of a married couple with the words, "Thank You Alma Thomas. Married 5 Years," underneath.

It was the Woodstock couple.

Alma recalled the memory to Seth, and he stared at her, entranced. "I still can't get over how old you are," he said, shaking his head. "It's weird."

"You think that's weird?" She gave a bitter laugh and leaned against the car. "I saw the World Trade Center go up." When he stared at her expectantly, she rolled her eyes and told him another story.

New York City, April, 1973

Alma let her feet dangle, smiling down at the new shoes on her feet. They perfectly matched her sleeveless navy blue sweater, which went with the yellow shorts she'd bought yesterday. Her splurge outfit was perfect for her plans for the evening.

It had only taken her two and a half years to get her bachelor's degree in psychology. Just enough time away from Texas, and far away from Maria, to suit her for several decades. It was just enough time for Alma, who needed little sleep, to earn a good living as a bartender and support her growing habit of smoking cigarettes. Enough time for fashion to advance a tiny bit, and enough for the economy to start to slip, when you observed with a trained eye that had seen a recession before. Enough time to freak people out a little and make them a little more scared of drugs, but also enough time for a new, powdered beast to make its presence known. Enough time for the world to change.

Also, just enough time for the New York skyline to change.

They'd grown up fast, taken over the whole damn view. It was amazing to see it all lit up, dwarfing the Empire State Building. To her altered brain, it was an eyeful. She was going to stay awake all night and watch the city not sleep.

Below her, cars still whizzed across the bridge, going to and from Brooklyn, but without the mass volume of afternoon and evening traffic. Yellow cabs, lights on and off, were predominant in the leisurely flow. Raising her beer to her lips, Alma downed the rest of it before tossing the bottle onto the top of a trash barge going under her, and having the satisfaction of seeing the driver look around in a little confusion before shrugging and looking forward again.

She stayed perched on the Brooklyn Bridge for a while longer, staring at the newly erected buildings. They really were overwhelming. Some people honestly hated them, thought they were an ugly eyesore, but most of what Alma heard was awe. It did intrigue her to see what weak little humans were capable of, given the right technology.

And they really were beautiful.

Around three in the morning, Alma made her way down and wandered the streets of Manhattan for a while, still a little amazed that the city really did run all night. Restaurants were open everywhere she passed, and she could see people inside, laughing and conversing. Ahead of her, a pair of young men strolled side by side, passing a joint back and forth between them, recalling the night's events. It sounded like a doozie.

Alma had long since decided she was meant to be alone. She'd dated a few boys at school, but none of them could stand up to her. She'd be fine.

Alone, she walked back to the garage where she'd left the car. The valet quickly rushed off with her keys, and a few minutes later, slowly crawled toward her. She rolled her eyes. She'd certainly scared the shit out of the kid by now, threatening him with his life if there was a single ding on her car, which had had enough time to become a classic by now.

The sky was starting to turn pink as she barreled out of New York in Consuela, her two suitcases in her trunk with the golf clubs she could no longer live without. Back to her lazy summer mornings and gulf view of the sunrise.

"You did all of that on your own?" Seth was frowning now. "You never had friends, or anything?"

"Sort of," she said, cocking her head. "I knew I couldn't get attached to anyone, and couldn't let them attach to me, so I just had acquaintances I was friendly with. And no," she added when he started to open his mouth, "you can't hear that story." She laughed. "I've got too many for one night, darlin.'"

Seth smiled. "Fine. You were wrong, though."

"About what?"

"Being alone," he said, and his watch beeped. He grinned at her. "Merry Christmas, baby."

"Merry Christmas." She leaned across to press a kiss against his lips. "And don't think it's not possible to get tired of me. It could happen. Hopefully not, though."

"Hopefully not," he said, reaching into his jacket pocket, "or else this would have been a waste of a lot of money."

In the little space between them, he placed a little black box, and her eyes immediately zeroed in on it. It wasn't possible…

When she didn't move, he picked it up like no big deal—like Seth—and popped it open. "Two karats," he said, nodding as if he were a jeweler. "I'm told Texas girl like things big." He waggled his eyebrows, and despite her shock, Alma burst out laughing.

Only Seth.

He didn't wait for an answer, just slid the ring onto her finger. "You're stuck with me," he said, grinning. "So I'm not even gonna ask."

The force behind Alma's kiss actually knocked them both off the car and into a snow drift. Seth laughed while she attacked his face with her lips before pulling back to look at the ring that now dazzled from her finger.

Time to own up.

"I like jewelry," she blurted out. "And designer clothes. But don't tell Alice. I don't get them all the time, and I don't want her to kill it for me."

"So you like your ring?" he asked.

"Yes!" She laughed, holding her hand out to stare while she snuggled against his side. "I'm a girl. So who helped you?"

Seth's eyes twinkled. "Edward."

Alma's jaw dropped. "You asshole!" she shrieked, and he laughed again, the sound permeating the air. She'd get to hear that laugh forever. "I thought you were being weird yesterday. Couldn't figure out since when I can't be around when you two play Halo."

"We're good that way." Seth pulled her tighter against his chest. "Mine," he rumbled, and she laughed.

"Yours," she agreed. Forever.

a/n Sorry it wasn't sappy. They're not sappy people.

Hope you enjoyed! Maybe sometime, when I feel the urge, I'll write an epilogue, but for now, I'm content with where they've landed.

Now go to my profile and read "Life and Death with the Original Succubus." Review everything. Seriously. I'll be sad if you don't.

Thanks for all your reviews and lovin'! You're all beautiful people!