A/N: Hey everyone, sorry it's been so long since I updated. This chapter was one that I felt was really important to get right, so I kinda delayed posting it... I hope you guys like it. I will warn you, though: prepare your feels. Crap is coming for Ian and Anthony in this chapter. Seriously. Anyway, thanks so much for the support- it still thrills me to no end whenever you leave me reviews and I'd LOVE to hear what you have to say about this lovely little chapter. :)

Oh yeah, and just FYI, I've been going through and updating all the early chapters with minor details and wording changes. You'll still follow the story just fine if you don't go back and reread those things, but there were a couple things here and there that I've cleared up.

Anthony barreled into the lobby of his old apartment complex and slammed the door behind himself. He stopped for a moment to give his lungs and heart a chance to catch up with him and pulled out his flashlight. He shone it around the familiar room, which looked surprisingly unchanged from how he remembered it. The potted plants that had decorated a few of the corners were dead—actually, one of them had been tipped over and its pot broken, spreading dirt onto the floor. The place was dusty and had the distinct feel of abandonment, but Anthony didn't let that discourage him. Maybe the high rise still had people living in it who didn't want any unwelcome visitors to know it was occupied. That'd be the smart thing to do.

Anthony strained his ears to catch any suspicious sounds, but he couldn't hear anything except the sound of his own breath and Daisy's toenails clicking on the floor.

He considered his next course of action. It would take Ian a little while—maybe as long as ten or fifteen minutes—to kill all the rabids that were undoubtedly trying to attack him. Anthony could just stand around in the lobby and wait for his friend to show up, which would be the smartest thing to do. Or he could choose not to waste time and go upstairs to his old apartment to look for Kalel. After all, it wasn't like Anthony was unarmed or couldn't take care of himself. He had his shotgun, and that would be more than enough to keep away any rabids.

A nagging voice in his head reminded him that having a gun hadn't been remotely helpful when the rabid had tackled him a few minutes ago, but Anthony ignored it. He couldn't just stand here waiting for Ian, not when he was so close to finally finding Kalel.

Anthony double checked to make sure his shotgun had shells loaded in it—it did—and then set off across the lobby and toward the stairwell. His apartment was on the sixth floor, but Anthony took his time going up the flights of stairs, trying to pay attention to any clues about what had happened in the building since the apocalypse. Everything about the stairwell seemed undisturbed—abandoned, maybe, but that was better than full of rabids and corpses. Anthony felt his hopes start to soar higher than ever. Was he going to find Kalel in this building? It looked more and more likely with every stair he climbed.

He forced himself to keep his guard up, though, as he opened the door leading out to the sixth floor. He shone the flashlight around the hall and jumped when he saw a figure standing twenty feet down the hall. The person's back was to Anthony, and for a moment he allowed himself to hope that it might be a human survivor. Then the light caught the figure's attention and as it turned Anthony saw its milky white eyes and inhuman snarl. He quickly pinned his flashlight under one arm and moved his shotgun into position, taking only a second to line up the shot and fire. The rabid collapsed to the ground, its chest and head full of holes from the shot.

Anthony's racing heart sank as he clicked the gun's safety into place and swung it back around his shoulder. He should've known he'd find a rabid eventually, but he'd let himself become too hopeful. There was no way there could be rabids and living humans coexisting in the same building. The best he could hope to find in the apartment now was a note from Kalel informing him of where she might've gone.

Anthony stepped over the rabid corpse and made his way to the door of his old apartment. Feeling an unpleasant mixture of nostalgia and dread, he pushed the unlocked door open and stepped inside. He glanced quickly around the living room, checking for rabids, and found it empty. He sighed in relief and stepped deeper into the apartment. He clicked his tongue at Daisy, calling her in with him so he could shut the door.

Anthony used his flashlight to illuminate the room, seeing that it was surprisingly unchanged. A few pictures had been knocked off the walls and some of the furniture had been moved around, but it wasn't nearly as ruined as Anthony had feared.

He took a few tentative steps into the living room but froze when he heard a faint noise. His heart raced as he strained his ears. The sound came again and this time Anthony could make out a quiet, inhuman growl and a faint rustling and scraping. Whatever had made that noise—probably a rabid—was definitely in the apartment somewhere. Anthony felt a shiver skate down his spine and resonate in his gut.

For a moment, he wanted to join Daisy, who had cowered back against the apartment door as soon as the growl sounded. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what he'd find in here. But he forced himself to siphon up his courage and continue his search.

The living room was empty, so Anthony moved into the kitchen, shining his light across the floor, table, and counters. One of the chairs had been tipped over and kicked several feet away from the table, but that was the most interesting thing to be found there.

He ventured next into what had once been his and Kalel's bedroom. He only got a glance at the state of the room before his attention was distracted by the figure huddled in one corner. He shone the light at it and felt his stomach drop out of his body. It was a woman, face-down on the floor just outside the bathroom. She was surrounded by a large stain of dried blood that was presumably hers, but she was stirring feebly. As he watched, she lifted her head toward the light and her caramel-colored, blood-matted hair shifted to reveal her face. Anthony felt his heart stop as he saw the white eyes and cruel teeth that marred the face of what had once been Kalel.

The rabid snarled at Anthony and slowly pushed itself into a more upright position and clawed feebly at the floor, but it didn't try to stand or attack him. After a moment, Anthony identified the reason for its struggle—Kalel's body had been ravaged some time before or after she died. There were organs visible in her torn-open abdomen and the edges of the huge wounds had the distinct marks of teeth. His stomach turned at the sight and he couldn't get gruesome images of what must have happened to her—hopefully after her death—out of his head. He found himself heaving a second later, though nothing came up. Thankfully the nausea passed quickly, although his horror and despair did not.

He forced himself to turn back to her—it. He swung his shotgun into his trembling, sweaty hands, but he already knew he wouldn't be able to use it. It didn't matter that the creature he was facing was no longer Kalel—he couldn't bring himself to fire a gun at what had once been the girl he loved.

Anthony dropped the gun but remained rooted to the spot. His brain numbly wondered if he should go back to the lobby or just wait for Ian to find him here. Maybe Ian could help him, somehow, make all this easier and somehow less real. At the very least, he might be able to kill the rabid that had once been Kalel and give her peace.

Anthony gathered his resolve and turned away from the broken rabid on the floor. He'd only taken a step, though, when he heard the rabid growl again, this time with much more volume and a scuffling sound. He turned back just in time for the rabid to stagger into him. Her fingers wrapped around his forearms and the nails dug into his skin. He tried to shove her off, but her grip on his arms was so inhumanly strong that he couldn't even bring his arms up. He saw her head darting forward, teeth bared, toward the highest target she could reach—his unprotected neck. Anthony only had time to turn his head to the side and try to wrench himself from her grasp. He felt her teeth dig into the right side of his neck in a bright flare of pain before he pulled away. He finally got his head back together and brought a foot up high enough to shove her away with a kick to the stomach. Her fingernails ripped through the skin on his arms, but that didn't hurt half as much as where she'd bitten him.

The kick sent the rabid crashing to the floor. Even though it didn't look as though she was about to get up any time soon—her limbs were twitching and her teeth still gnashing, but she couldn't seem to move more than that—Anthony still took several steps away before allowing himself to drop his guard.

He stayed frozen to the spot for several seconds, ignoring his watering eyes and staring down at what had once been Kalel. Now that his adrenaline was gone, he was feeling the full emotional blow of her death. Her once-beautiful face was empty and dead and ruined: it made Anthony's heart ache just to see it. And it seemed that she was a reminder—a symbol—of all the terrible things wrong with the post-apocalyptic world and all the beauty that had been crushed by it. Anthony squeezed his eyes shut for a few seconds, trying to hold himself together. He wanted to burst into tears beside her corpse, but he still had other distractions to deal with.

He lifted a hand to the wound on his neck and realized how badly it was bleeding—he could feel warm blood rolling down under his shirt and across his chest. He put firm pressure on it and felt the blood pulsing against his hand with every pump of his heart. He suddenly wondered why he should even bother trying to staunch the bleeding. He'd been bitten by a rabid—he was going to die no matter what he did.

He heard the door to the apartment bang open, but he didn't bother going for his shotgun. Again, what was the point in trying to defend himself if he was already as good as dead?

"Anthony? Are you in here?" It was Ian's voice, but as relieved as Anthony was to know he was here, it didn't change the fact that he had arrived too late.

A second later, Ian was at his side, taking in the situation with a darting, panicked gaze. He seemed to notice the wound on Anthony's neck before anything else.

"Christ, Anthony, are you okay?" He couldn't see the extent of the injury because Anthony still had a hand clamped to it.

Anthony started to shake his head, but Ian's attention had already been stolen by the rabid in the corner.

"Shit," he said. He must've identified the rabid already, because his eyes were filled with a deep sympathy as he turned back to Anthony. "Oh god, I'm so sorry. Will you be okay if I…?"

Anthony knew exactly what he was asking. "Y-yeah," he said hoarsely, fighting the sobs trapped in his chest. "Do it for her."

Ian nodded grimly and moved over to the rabid with his knife at the ready in his hand. Anthony closed his eyes, not wanting to see his former fiancée's body get decapitated. He still heard the dull, wet thunk of Ian's knife, though, and he almost heaved again.

A few seconds later, he felt Ian's cold fingers against the hand Anthony was pressing to his throat. "Let me see this," he said. "How bad is it?"

"Bad," Anthony managed to say as he pulled his hand away from his throat. He was starting to feel lightheaded from blood loss.

Ian swore under his breath as he looked over the wound. "I think it hit your jugular vein, which means…." He suddenly froze, his eyes wide. "Anthony," he said in a voice Anthony had never heard him use before—a voice that was full of the worst possible fear and dread overlaid with a shaky attempt at control. "Is this a bite?"

"Yes." Anthony said breathlessly, barely stifling a groan of pain. He put his blood-crusted hand back to the wound and continued applying pressure.

"From—from a rabid." It wasn't a question; Ian already knew the answer.

"Yes," Anthony repeated. "From… her."

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Ian muttered. He grabbed Anthony's arm and helped him to a sitting position against the nearest wall. His touch was gentle, but his words were not. "Anthony, what the fuck were you thinking? When I told you to go to the apartment complex I didn't mean you could just go searching the place by yourself! Why the hell didn't you wait for me? I could've killed that" he jerked his head toward the rabid, "before it bit you!"

"I know," Anthony said, shutting his eyes. "I know, Ian, and trust me, I wish I hadn't done it a thousand times more than you do. But I made a stupid decision and there's nothing we can do about it."

Anthony opened his eyes to see that Ian's face was still livid. "Oh, believe me, I've realized there's not a damn thing we can do about it. That's why I'm so fucking pissed that you decided to come here without me! Now you're going to die and I can't help you!"

"I'm sorry," Anthony said quietly. He wished Ian would stop yelling—it just made everything seem so much worse.

"You're sorry? You've been bitten by a rabid and the best you can offer is an apology?" Ian snarled.

"Yes!" Anthony said, forcing a desperate sort of firmness into his voice. "I'm sorry that I didn't wait for you, I'm sorry that I'm going to die, and I'm sorry that that means leaving you to continue on without me. But there's no use in being angry about it now." This time, he couldn't hold back a grimace as his hand shifted slightly against his torn skin.

Either Anthony's words or the pain on his face seemed to kill all the anger in Ian's eyes. "Are you… in a lot of pain right now?"

"Not as much as I feel like I should be," Anthony said, resting his head back against the wall and trying to fight off the black dots that kept pulsing in his vision. The palm resting against the bite was sticky and warm, and despite the pressure Anthony had been applying to the wound, there was still blood soaking into the collar of his shirt and oozing down his chest. "But it wasn't a deep bite." He paused for a few seconds and then summoned the courage to ask, "How long do you think I have?"

Ian tensed at the question. "I don't know," he admitted. "Given that your jugular vein has been severed, I'd say you've got a few minutes before you black out and then a few minutes past that until the lack of oxygen catches up and you…."

"Die," Anthony finished. "Just say it, Ian. It's not like avoiding the word is going to change what happens."

Saying it like that might have been harsh, but it was helping Anthony accept the inevitable. He was going to die here on the floor of his old apartment. He'd slowly bleed out—what was that called, medically? Exsanguination? That seemed right. He'd die of exsanguination, and it would be painful and slow. But at least Ian would be here with him.

Ian's face suddenly morphed into a thoughtful frown. "Anthony…," he said slowly. "There might be a way out of this. I could try to turn you into a vampire."

Anthony immediately started to shake his head, but that pulled at the skin on his neck painfully, so he said quickly, "No."

"Why not?" Ian asked, shocked. "I could save your life!"

"I just… no. I don't want that burden." He forced himself to shove the mental and physical pain of death aside—he had to get his point across to Ian during the limited consciousness he had.

"What do you mean? You don't want to be a vampire?" Ian didn't really give him the chance to answer. "It's not as bad as it might seem. You could handle it."

"I don't think so," Anthony said quietly. "I'm not as strong as you are, Ian. I don't think I could fight it."

What he didn't admit was that he was also scared of becoming a vampire, scared of losing his humanity and his soul. Anthony didn't want to have to kill humans in order to survive. The idea of having to do so still disgusted him. He didn't want to have to live eternally in this godforsaken world and slowly watch his humanity disappear with time. And even though spending the last three weeks with Ian had changed his perspective on vampires, he was still appalled by the thought of becoming one of the monsters.

"That's bullshit," Ian said emphatically, a hint of anger returning to his tone. "If you wanted to fight it, you could. There's nothing else to it. Don't you remember all the shit you've been telling me over the past three weeks about still being myself even though I'm a vampire? Didn't you buy any of that stuff, or was it all just empty words for my benefit?"

"I meant it. But I've seen how hard you struggled with being a vampire, and I don't think I'd be able to handle it as well as you have. I'm not sure I want to try. I don't want to become one of them, not after everything they've put humans through. Didn't you feel the same before you were turned?"

"Yeah, but you don't have to be like the rest of the vamps."

"I can't hold onto my humanity forever. Eventually, given enough time, I'd end up like all the rest of the vampires and only see humans as food." He paused, trying to come up with the best way to explain the other reason he didn't want to keep going. "Besides, what do I have to live for anymore? I've already said this world seems hopeless and now I know almost none of our old friends made it. And Kalel…." Anthony shut his eyes, trying his hardest to burn the image of the rabid Kalel out of his head and remember what she had looked like before the apocalypse, back when she was happy and full of life.

"I know losing those people sucks. But you're not alone yet, Anthony. I'm still here." Ian's voice held more than a bit of hurt.

"I know," Anthony said in a voice that was uneven and breathless from pain, looking at the man kneeling in front of him. "And I'm sorry, but I can't go on anymore, not even for you. Not if it means having to surrender my humanity."

"But—"

"Ian, please." In other situations, Anthony would've been embarrassed by how unguarded and raw his voice was; now, though, he was grateful that his control had broken and his emotion was pouring out. Maybe that would let Ian know how much he meant what he was saying. "Don't try to talk me into this. It's my life and my choice. And right now I'm okay with dying, so just… let me go."

"Do you realize what the fuck you're asking me to do?" Ian asked. His eyebrows were tilted up in desperation. "I'm going to have to stand by and watch you die, even though I might be able to stop it. Do you have any fucking idea how hard that's going to be?" His voice cracked on the last words and Anthony saw how much he was struggling for control.

"I know it's going to be hard and I'm sorry. But please, you have to do it for me," Anthony said. He could barely hear his own voice over the thundering blood in his ears. His pulse was racing as his heart tried to make up for the oxygen deficiency his body was suffering. The echoing booms seemed like they were meant to remind Anthony of how little time he had left.

Ian shook his head. "Anthony, you can't leave me, do you hear? If you die, I'll have to face an eternity alone as a vampire. There won't be anything left for me in this world."

Anthony felt a harsh stab of pity for his friend: Ian was as condemned to eternal life as Anthony was to death. But even that wasn't enough motive for Anthony to agree to getting turned into a vampire.

He reached out with the hand that wasn't covered in blood and grasped Ian's shoulder. He stared into the other man's blue eyes and tried to pour every bit of his remaining strength into his words. "Ian… promise me you won't do it. Promise that you won't turn me."

Ian's reluctance was obvious, but he surprised Anthony by saying, "A-All right. If that's really what you want."

Anthony dropped his hand and relaxed. "Thank you," he muttered. "There's one last thing I need you to do for me." He cringed at the bright pain in his neck and let out a shuddering breath. He could feel himself fading fast: he was more lightheaded than ever and his body, except the spot on his neck where he'd been bitten, felt numb and heavy. "After I'm gone, make sure I don't turn into a rabid. I know that might not be easy—"

Ian shook his head. "You didn't even need to ask. I wouldn't make you suffer through that."

"Thank you," Anthony repeated softly. "Thank you for everything. You've been a great friend, Ian." He smiled faintly and let his eyelids slip closed. His consciousness was trickling away, and though that—and the idea of dying—should have terrified him, Anthony found himself surprisingly willing to let his life end here. He knew he'd made the right choice; discovering all the terrible things that had happened to Kalel and the others here in L.A. had broken Anthony's will to live and he knew he wouldn't have been able to keep going on in this horrifying world as an immortal vampire.

He dimly heard Ian's voice saying his name, but he was too far gone to respond.

I'm sorry to leave you behind, Ian. But this is what I want.

And then Anthony slipped softly into eternal darkness.