Summary: Fang Rasmussen has some problems…namely, he's human

Summary:  Fang Rasmussen has some problems…namely, he's human.  Anything more would ruin the story.  So read on and enjoy!

Disclaimer:  The characters in this short story belong to me, but the Night World and all its inhabitants belong to L. J. Smith.  This story is purely for entertainment; no money is being made.  Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.  No animals were harmed during the writing of this fanfic.

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Precious Cure, or, How I Spent My Year as a Human

You know, I never realized how damned difficult it is to be human.  I was born a vampire over three hundred years ago, on an island enclave off the east coast of North America.  My mother and father raised me to be a strong and merciless hunter, and my prey of course, was vermin—humans.  I spent a hundred years on that island, and I was…content.  Not particularly happy, but content.  I had food and shelter and friends.  But something was missing.  The thrill of the hunt, the thrill of knowing that your prey could fight back.  So I left the enclave in the summer of 1820 for the state of Massachusetts.

            I had family there, my distant cousins in the Redfern family.  I lived with them for some time, hunting as I wanted to, killing when I felt like it.  I was freer than I had ever been before.  But after a time, I grew bored and moved on.  I traveled around the country for many, many years, but in 1998, I stopped roaming and returned to Boston to visit Quinn, an old friend from my days with the Redferns.  Like me, he took pleasure in the glory of the hunt and the kill.  We were kindred spirits.  We did what we wanted, fed on whoever crossed our  paths.

            One day, Quinn found his soulmate and went soft on humans.  I, sickened by what he had been reduced to, left Boston.  Unfortunately, my past caught up to me less than a year later.  It turns out that I had accidentally killed a young witch's human sister while in Boston, and the girl had followed me in search of revenge.  I apologized, not that I felt truly sorry, but she just laughed.  You will know what it is like to be helpless, Fang.  Her words scared me until I remembered that I was a vampire, and above helplessness.

            A few days after that, I began to feel very weak, as if my energy was leaving me little by little.  And again I heard the witch's voice.  As permanent as I can make it, you will be mortal.  Don't find your soulmate too quickly, Fang.  

            And ever since then I have been human, or close enough.  I have lost my telepathy, my strength, my enhanced senses, and my bloodlust.  I am human, and I have been searching for a cure for months.  I would ask a vampire to change me, but I don't believe that I would appreciate being a made vampire, even if they agree to the blood exchange.  I have stayed away from the Night World ever since this…humanity overtook me.  I have no desire to die, and as vermin, I am just food to them.

            I have no home, no job, and no friends.  I live on the streets, and move from city to city fairly often.  As soon as I reach a new city, I seek out witches of Circle Twilight and ask if they can undo the spell upon me.  Always, they say no, and I go back out onto the street.  The little money I have comes from people I rob or men I blow in bars and gas station bathrooms.  I am strong, I tell myself, I am Fang Rasmussen of the lamia.  I do what I have to in order to survive.

            Tonight I arrive in New York City.  It is a big city, the largest I have been to in my search.  I am a little intimidated by the giant neon signs and the dark alleys.  Especially the dark alleys, because I know that I will end up there if I stay here long enough.  I wander around the streets, searching for a specific kind of store.  A store with a black flower painted over the door, a dahlia.  A store supplying spell ingredients to witches of Circle Twilight and Circle Midnight.  I walk for a long time until finally, I see such a store.  Twilight Supplies says the name on the door.  I walk in.

            The smell of spicy cinnamon incense fills my nostrils, not overpowering, but pleasant.  I walk up the counter and show the salesgirl my black rose ring.  "I need to see the person in charge," I say, and the girl disappears.

            Moments later, she returns with a young woman, perhaps in her late twenties.  "I am Clarissa Abforth, how may I help you?"

            "Can we speak privately?" I ask.

            She hesitates, then nods.  "Follow me."

            She leads us to a room upstairs and sits down in a heavy chair across the room from me.  I close the door behind me but do not sit down.  "I need you to undo a spell for me."

            "Why should I do that?"

            "Isn't it your duty to help those in need?" I ask vehemently.  "I have need.  I no longer wish to live like a human."

            She searches my face for unending moments.  "I cannot help you.  Your spell has been signed by a justice glyph, and as a witch of Circle Twilight, I am forbidden to undo justice spells even if it were in my power to do so.  But it is my experience in spells like this one that once the person affected by the spell repents for their misdeeds, the spell becomes nullified.  Tell me, what did you do to deserve this punishment?"

            "I fed off of some witch's cousin and accidentally killed her."

            "I see.  Did this witch say anything to you after she had cast the spell?"

            I think back to those months ago.  "She said, 'As permanent as I can make it, you will be mortal.  Don't find your soulmate too quickly, Fang.'"

            "Ah.  Well, there is your counterspell, Fang.  Simply find your soulmate, and you shall be as the lamia again."

            "Well, how can I find her?" I demand.

            "I cannot help you there."

            I curse her and bless her at the same time.  I have no desire to find my soulmate, but if that is the only way to become a vampire again, I shall do it with a song in my heart.  So I simply nod, thank her, and leave her store.  I am back on the streets again, as always, a human in an inhumane world.

            It begins to rain, a perfect beginning to what will be a lousy night.  I know what I will do tonight.  I have no money left, and I will prostitute myself to anyone who will give me twenty bucks for breakfast.  I hate myself and what I have become.  Why hadn't I been more careful with my prey?  Killing humans was one thing, no Night Worlder cared about the humans, but murdering a witch, or even a witch's cousin was another matter entirely.  I could easily be executed by the council for what I had done.  I stop walking and sit down on the sidewalk.

            Rain had plasters my long red hair to my face and soaks through my worn clothing.  I shiver from the cold breeze that blows against my skin, and know that if I don't find shelter soon, I will become ill.  But in my misery, mortal illness hardly seems to matter much.

            "Hey!" cries a high pitched voice.  "Are you okay?"

            I am silent, but a self-mocking smile curves my lips.  I don't think I will ever be okay again.

            "Hello, earth to the guy on the sidewalk!"  Definitely a female voice he decided, not bothering to look up.  "Are you dead?"

            I laugh out loud, a bitter sound even to my own ears.  "Not anymore," I reply.

            "Oh," she says.  "Do you need a place to stay until this rain clears up?  I have an extra couch at my loft.  It wouldn't be an imposition."

            "Fine," I say, but don't even know why.  Something about her naïve offer strikes a chord in my heart I suppose.  Not many people in this world, human or otherwise, show kindness to others.

            "All right then, get in!" she says, opening the passenger side of the car, a Jeep.  I do as she says and we drive in silence.  Her loft is several miles away, but she drives fast and we reach it in a matter of minutes.  As we walk inside I am struck at last by curiosity.  Why did she offer to take me in?  How long will she let me stay?

            "Thank you," I say at last.

            "You're welcome.  I'm Julia Lennox, in case I forgot to tell you.  The couch is right over there, so make yourself comfortable while I grab some blankets for you."

            "I am called Fang.  Fang Rasmussen."

            "You must have had some crazy parents to have named you that," she said, brushing a lock of stay golden hair from her face.

            "You could say that," I reply with a smile.  It feels strange on my face, this smile.  Perhaps that is because I so rarely express joy, even as a vampire I rarely showed any emotion but cruelty and anger.  But I decide that I like that way this smile feels on my face, and promise to do it more often.  I close my blue eyes and wait for her to return with the blankets.

            She really is quite beautiful with her long blonde hair the color of wheat and those impossibly green eyes.  She looks about eighteen or nineteen, but seems younger because of her innocence.  Were I still a vampire, I would feed on her without a second thought and savor the sweetness of her life as it trickled down my throat.  But I am not a vampire.  I am allowed to admire her for her goodness, as I once reveled in my own evilness.  It is strange how my life has turned upside down within the span of a few months, practically an eyeblink for one who had been alive for three hundred years.  I wonder, if I were to become a vampire again right now, would I still feed on her?  I cannot answer that question.  One part of me says yes, and another screams no.  Perhaps it is a good thing then that I do not have to choose.

            "Here are the blankets," says Julia, returning from her bedroom.

            I take them from her, and as her hand brushes against mine, the couch seems to disappear from under me.  The world is enveloped in a pleasant pink haze, and I feel complete in a way I have never felt before.  I wonder if she is the one who will break the spell on me.  But if she is my soulmate, wouldn't the spell be broken already?  "Thank you," I stammer, my voice still shaky from that skin to skin contact.

            "Uh…you're welcome," she replies, then leans in closer to me.  "What just happened?" she whispers violently.

            "I don't know," I respond truthfully.  I do not know for certain, for I have never had soulmate before.  I only know what Quinn told me before I left Boston.  It's like finding that missing part of you.  Like finally knowing what you are.  I don't know who I am, but I think that perhaps I have found my missing parts. 

            "I'm going to bed," she says uncomfortably, probably still in shock from the connection we shared for those brief moments.

            "Okay," I say.  But then I change my mind and grab her by the arm.  She does not scream, but I can tell she is afraid.  I have seen the same look all too often in the eyes of my prey.  I want to hold her until the fear disappears, and at the same time I am shocked at my emotions.  Since when have I ever cared about humans?  Since now, I decide.

            "Please," she whispers.

            "Don't be afraid of me, Julia.  I swear I will never hurt you."

            "Fang…"

            "Yes?"

            "I'm scared.  Will you hold me?"

            "Of course."  I take her in my arms and hold her close to me.  I can hear our hearts beating in unison against our breasts for several beats, until mine quickens at her nearness.  I look into her eyes, as green and flawless as perfectly polished jade, and see myself reflected in their depths.  And in this one second, this one fraction of a second, I know that I will never be the same.  All my three hundred years of hatred evaporates, burned away by the kindness of her soul.  I don't deserve you, Julia.  You are sunlight, happiness, innocence, and all the things that I can never be.

            Julia shifts within my embrace, and whispers to me, "You can be whatever you want to be, Fang.  There is nothing stopping you anymore."

            I hold her tighter, in love with her hope.  How can a person change so drastically in one night, after three hundred years of darkness?  I don't know how I have changed so much, only that I have changed.  I want to be as good as Julia, and prove to her that I deserve her.  I love you, my mind whispers to hers.

            "I love you," she says.

            I am shocked.  "You heard me?"

            "Yes."

            That shouldn't have been possible, unless she was a witch and I was broadcasting my thoughts.  I wasn't.  Clarissa Abforth's words came back to me.  It is my experience in spell like this one that one the person affected by the spell repents for their misdeeds, the spell becomes nullified.  So I am a vampire again?  Have I regained my bloodlust along with my telepathy?  I certainly don't feel hungry.

            "Fang, what's wrong?"

            "Nothing, pet.  Everything is so perfect I could cry."

            She scrunched her nose.  "I don't see you as the crying type."

            I laugh.  "No, I don't suppose I am."

            She smiles up at me and my breath catches in my throat.  How the hell can I ever be good enough for her?  "Be yourself, Fang," she whispers.

"But Julia, you don't even know who I am," I protest. 

"I know enough."  She smiles mischievously.  "You are Fang Rasmussen, and

you are beautiful, inside and out.  And when you touch me, I feel like I'm living for the very first time."

            "Oh, God, Julia," I say.  "Do you know how your soul sings to me?"  I lean towards her and take her lips with my own.  The pink haze again clouds the world, and tiny bolts of electricity race along our spines.  As my tongue slips into her mouth and hers into mine, so do our minds slip into each other.  I see her soul, and she sees mine.

            "So dark," I hear her say, but not in fear.  Her voice is tinged with compassion.  "I'm so sorry you had to live this way, Fang.  But in your own way, you are noble and good."

            "So I have prayed since meeting you," I say.  "So have I prayed."

            She sighs contentedly as the kiss ends, and our minds become only our own again.  "I think we should get some sleep, how about you?" she asks.

            "That sounds divine," I say, and as I hold her to me, we both fall into a deep sleep, disturbed only by the happy dreams of our future together.  Thank you Clarissa Abforth, and thank you little witch, wherever you are.  Now I know that I can be a vampire and yet retain my humanity. 

END