A/N: This chapter isn't as long as usual. I wanted to introduce a few people and say goodbye to New Orleans. Hope you enjoy it. And I hope (ie cross your fingers) to have a new chapter up by Tues. I've been neglecting this story, and I plan on making it up to my fans. Thanks for sticking with me.


Ch. 17: Return to the Past


iMonday, June 21, 1787

I have no choice but to put to pen my feelings and my experiences. At least that is what the obnoxious man who came to the farm all those months ago tells me. I hate what he has turned me into. A killer. A murderer. Nevermind, the things I kill deserve to die, but do I have the right to be their judge, jury, and executioner? I feel like the King, deciding who is worthy of life and who is not. I have blood on my hands. Green, blue, red liquid streams down my arms and over my body. My hair and skin reek of the slaughter of hundreds of demons, and I feel empty and hollow.

IS THAT WHAT I SHOULD WRITE IN YOU, MY BELOVED DIARY!!!!

This wasn't how my life was supposed to turn out. I was going to marry Christophe Lambert. He lives, sorry.. lived down the road from my uncle Pierre's farm. We grew up together. My first kiss came from him, and now he lies dead, blown to the winds. Those creatures turned him into my enemy. My lover, no longer.

I must... go. I can't think right now. I'm so sorry, Christophe. I'm so sorry.


Thursday, June 24

He wants me to tell you I killed a Turok demon today. It was not hard to turn its neck and separate it from its body. The hard part was the hands and arms that tore at my clothes. When the fighting was done, I stood naked in the meadow. I was free.

I'M DYING AND HE DOES NOT UNDERSTAND. I HATE WHAT I AM! HE REVELS IN IT. I AM A KILLER. I USED TO MILK COWS.

I'm sorry. They don't want to read about me. About my feelings. The others that will follow they can't know the loneliness I feel.

Monsieur Jayme... the Watcher.. the keeper, he is not so bad. He is not my Uncle Pepe. I miss him. I miss his awful cooking and his belly-rumbling laugh. I miss singing with him in the early morning, with dew wetting my underskirts.

Jayme stares at me. Watches me. Hah, that is funny. He watches me. He is a Watcher. That is his job. And mine is to slay. I am good at my job. The Turok is dead.


Tuesday, July 17th

We are going to Paris. Jewel of France. Place of my birth. I told Jayme that and he stared hard at me. I think I am a burden to him. My mind wanders during the fights. I can't tell him its because my heart is empty. I feel nothing. I almost wish for death./i


"I feel nothing. I almost wish for death." Buffy repeated. She turned her head, burying it in Spike's neck.

Spike blinked back tears, and put the book down on the table. Martine was Buffy after her resurrection. The isolation and the hatred for what she'd become. He wrapped his arms tighter around Buffy and Bitty.

"Spike, Spike. I need to breathe." Buffy told him, as she pushed back against his arms.

Spike lessened his grip, but didn't take his arms from around her. "Sorry, Pet. I..."

"I'm okay, Spike. It hit a little too close to home, but I'm fine. I'm better now. I have you." She said, putting her head back down on his chest.

"And I'm not letting you go."

"I'm counting on it." Buffy stared at the diary, and her heart ached for Martine. Buffy couldn't say if she would have felt any different if she'd been in Martine's shoes. When she was called, her only troubles were her parents' divorce and moving again. Martine lost everything. Her uncle, her home, and her lover.

"She was so broken, Spike."

"Yeah, but things got better. We know that much of the story. She met Henri, and they fell in love. We just have to get through this first year, and..." He said, unable to continue because the following year Martine and Henri would be dead.

Buffy looked up, her eyes shadowed. "She died. They died. Nothing can change that. She told me in my dream that I wasn't to feel sorry for her because she'd loved. So, that's what I'll take from this. She found a truer love and it healed her. Like you healed me."

She took his head in her hands and kissed him on the lips, his arms tightening around her waist, drawing her closer. Bitty decided her parents needed a little reminder of why they were reading these diaries, and kicked. They pulled apart breathlessly and stared in shock at Buffy's stomach. Like children in a candy store, they giggled with barely suppressed glee.

Spike reached under Buffy's shirt and placed his hand on her belly. He could feel the thrumming of Bitty's heart and he smiled. Buffy was a little envious of the connection between father and daughter. Spike got to hear Bitty's heartbeat anytime he wanted to, and she didn't. But there were special Mommy things that Spike never got to experience, so she guessed they were even. Spike would never know the pleasure and honor she felt in carrying this small wonder in her body, knowing her life was connected to hers. Buffy knew if they never had another child, she would cherish these moments for the rest of her life.

"Hey, little one. Did you have a nice nap? We haven't heard from you since this morning." Spike told her.

"All those Cajun spices probably woke her up." Buffy stroked Spike's hair, marveling at the softness. "I hope she has your hair." She said out of the blue.

"What?"

"Your hair is much softer than mine. And how is that? You're dead. We use the same shampoo." Spike chuckled and kissed Buffy hard on the lips. "Don't be bitter. We're expected to live for centuries. Do you want us running around with bad hair?"

"You're so vain, but I love you."

"Ditto, luv." He said. Glad to have something as mundane as hair to talk about.

"Do you want to continue? Or can I interest you in a whirl around the dance floor?" They could hear the soft strains of the Zedeco music wafting throughout the house.

"Can we do both? Dance and then read?" Buffy struggled to stand up, finally having to get a push from Spike.

"Yep."

"I'm glad one of remembered our French. Why didn't Francoise tell us the bloody book was in French?" Buffy complained half-heartedly. She could laugh about it now. When she'd opened the book and discovered she couldn't read it with her limited knowledge of French, she cursed and cried. Spike recognized the hormonal outburst and calmly picked the book up. To her utter embarassment and horror, Spike spoke French flawlessly. Of course, he would. She griped in her mind. He had to not only be right 90% of the time, but he had to be smarter than her too. So, she cried again at the injustice of it all.

"I could remind you that I actually attended college, but that would only get me the floor tonight, and I'm still on my honeymoon." Spike joked, taking Buffy's hand and twirling her around. They laughed and swayed to the music, oblivious to the onlooker that had come into the kitchen.

Francoise stood in the doorway, smiling with joy at the young couple. She was thrilled to see her little gamble worked. The contents of the diaries were not meant to be read by oneself, but with the lover's assistance. The books were their gift, not just for the Slayer, but for her mate as well. She closed the door to the living room, giving the lovers more privacy.

"I wouldn't kick you out of bed, Spike." Buffy reassured him. "With it being so hot and humid here, I need your body to cool down."

Spike pulled her closer till they were mere inches apart. "I thought I heated you up, luv. If I'm lacking in that department, I'll just have to try much, much harder." Buffy gulped, her tongue darting out to lick her dry lips.

"Try harder. Please."



Dewey peered through the mosquito netting, trying to get a closer look inside the house. They had state of the art equipment, but nature wasn't impressed. The vine from the swamp trees provided a thick cloak around the house, keeping the family safe from intruders, and intruders safe from the family, but Dewey and his team didn't know that. Holding the binoculars as best he could with his fingers taped together, he narrowed in on the shadows dancing across the front window.

Dewey dropped the binoculars, cursing at the pain that shot up his hand. Damn Shackleford. He wasn't the one that had lost them. But Shackleford didn't discriminate in his punishment. Dewey was lucky it had only been his fingers, and the only reason it had been, was the fact they had to get on the road to catch up with the couple. Dewey couldn't wait till this job was over, and he could move on to the next one. Preferably one that didn't have anything to do with Shackleford and that organization he worked for.

Shackleford crawled along the damp ground, moving closer to the side of the house. The people dancing and singing in the back yard were ignorant to the threat that lurked just outside of their sight. It would be so easy to slip inside the house, kill the vampire, and snatch the Slayer. Of course, she'd put up a fight, but he always came prepared, he thought patting the tranquilizer dart in his pocket. Buffy Summers would be on her way to England before the first cries of alarm could be shouted.

It would be so easy.

Shackleford listening to the sounds of the night, trying to familiarize himself with his surroundings so he could blend in unnoticed. Which wasn't possible out here. The people knew what belonged and what didn't, and unbeknownst to Shackleford, the Hemmings clan was well aware someone was trespassing on their land.

Marie rocked in her chair, her corn pipe wedged between the few teeth she possessed. She hummed an old tune her mother used to sing to her as a child. She turned her head, never opening her eyes as she smelled the change in the air. Her nephew, Larue clapped his hands loudly as he backed over to where she sat.

"Auntie, we have visitors. Should we give them a down-home welcome to the swamp."

"Hush, child." Marie admonished, straining her elderly ears. She could hear them talking, their voices carried on the wind. Three men. She didn't like party crashers, especially when she was the one throwing the party. They had to be after the young ones inside. Well, that just wasn't going to do.

"Larue, mon chere, I want you to go inside and tell Buffy and Spike to be ready to leave. Tell them not to worry. We will take care of these men." Marie swatted Larue on his butt as he passed and cackled loudly. Enough of a laugh that it carried across the bridge to Dewey and Lande.

Spike caressed Buffy's back, turning the pages till they came to the new year. 1788.

"Ready, Pet."

"As I'll ever be." Buffy answered, laying her hand on Spike's stomach.


iJanuary 1st, 1788

A new year. A fresh start. At least, that is what Jayme tells me. He is excited about the new year. Says things have gotten better around the hellmouth, and soon he will be able to rejoin his family in England. I am jealous. He has a family. He has ties. He told me I could come. Meet his wife and his children, but I think not. If I get too attached to him, to them.... well, I don't want to hurt again. But enough blah. It is a New Year, and I have had too much to drink. It is early morning. Jayme is asleep. I am too excited to sleep. I will try, though. Good night, my friend. Good night.


Jan 15th

Sorry, I have not written. It has been a most unusual fortnight. There was a vampire pack on the outskirts of town. They had been attacking the village, taking a few victims each night. Jayme got word of them and sent me to clear them out. Well, I did. I fought them each and every night till there was but one left. A man. He... he should have died with the rest of them, but I could not kill him. We fought all night, till the first rays of the sun peeped over the hills. But did he run for cover? No. He stayed and stared at me, with eyes that seemed to pierce deep into my soul. I felt drawn to him, even as I raised my stake to kill him. We stood so close, he could have broken my neck in mere seconds, and I would not have known I was dead. The sun was my savior, my salvation, for it appeared behind my back. Then, and only then, did he flee./i

"Now, we're getting somewhere." Spike said eagerly. Buffy peered up at him.

"Spike. This isn't a romance novel." Buffy said, grinning at the look of horror on his face. Okay, scratch smut novels off his reading list.

"No, it's a pattern. Don't you see, luv? They fought like we fought. No wonder they fell in love." Buffy couldn't argue with logic like that so she simply settled down for the rest of the story, steeling herself for the inevitable ending.

"Aw, honey. That's so sweet."

"Are you making fun of me, woman?" He said, his nose inches from hers.

"Sure am. Want to fight?" Buffy said, threading her fingers through his hair.

Spike looked around the room, fully intent on giving Buffy a good fight, when he saw one of the men they'd met earlier walk into the room.

"Sorry to disturb ya'll, but Auntie Marie says to get your stuff together. There be some people out there, hiding, and we want to get you out of here as soon as possible."

"What?" Buffy said, panicked. Spike lifted her out of his lap, and strode to the window.

"Don't! Please. We have everything under control. We know where they are. How many of them hide in the swamp. We can smell them. We're taking bets to see which one gets taken by a gator." Larue grinned at the shocked expression on Buffy's face. "Oh, didn't you know? The place is surrounded by them. But we don't bother them, and they don't bother us. Now, those city folks outside. Well, me be thinking they gonna be dinner."

"Couldn't happen to a nicer group, mate." Spike bent to pick up the diary, which had fallen to the floor. Buffy stood by, her hand draped protectively around her stomach. He could see the fire in her eyes and knew nothing was going to stop the explosion about to occur.

"I'm sick of them. All of them." She said angrily. "First, Warren and his loser friends nearly kill me. Now, the people I'm supposed to work for are stalking me. What the hell is up with that? She's a baby. An innocent little baby, and.." Spike wrapped her up in his arms, kissing her brow.

"They do not understand the prophecy because they do not want to." Francoise stated as she joined the three in the living room. "The child is peace, a bridge between the two worlds. Some are frightened by that, but it is only their own ignorance. Do not fret, Buffy and Spike. Your child will be born, and she will live a long life filled with love." Francoise cupped Buffy's chin.

"Listen to my Francie. She is wise for her age." Marie said as she warbled into the room. Dewey frantically signaled to Shackleford and Lande that there was something going on.

"It is time for you to go, my blessed children. We will take you by boat to the intercoastal. There my cousin, Bebe will pick you up. Ask him about his recipe for jambalaya. It's not as good as mine, but don't tell him that. He will take you to a safe place for the night. In the morning, all will be well. I promise you. Now, go out the back while we handle those folks out front." Buffy bent low to kiss the elderly woman.

"We'll bring the baby back for a visit." Buffy told her. Spike stroked the old woman's face and whispered in her ear. "30 years earlier, and things might have been different, mon petite amore."

"Damn right, vampire. I wouldn't let you out of bed."



Lande swatted at the mosquitoes hovering around his head. At this point, he didn't much care if Shackleford fired him or not. He wasn't used to working in these conditions. Hell, no one was, save the people who lived in this miserable place.

He was still smarting from Shackleford's earlier beating of him. If the girl and her husband slipped past them, more power to them. He was sick of this country and its people. Give him France any day over this new world. So caught up in his ramblings, Lande did not hear the crack of the small branches as they broke under the tremendous weight of the creature crawling through the underbrush. Gators may not have good vision, but they can detect heat and movement, and Lande's arm flailing drew the gator to him like an erne flapping on the surface of the water.

The agonizing scream and gunfire that erupted from the west end of the house provided perfect cover for Buffy and Spike to slip unnoticed onto the platoon boat. Spike covered them with a blanket as they floated past the scene. He was glad Buffy couldn't see the body being dragged into the murky depths, the fingers still twitching.

He felt Buffy trembling in his arms. "Hey, luv. We're okay. Just one of Travers' boys got spooked."

Spike looked down into her eyes, and saw them filled with tears. "Oh, god. Buffy? Buffy, are you hit?"

"No. I'm fine. It was the sound. The bullets. I remembered." She said, pressing her face into his shirt.

There was no need for her to elaborate. The shooting. Her shooting. Spike drew hearts on her back, not speaking, just being there to support her.

"I'll turn the engine on as soon as we clear Potter's point." Spike followed Larue's outstretched arm to an area not 200 feet in front of them. "Just sit back and relax. Everything will be alright."



Dawn always wanted younger siblings to torment. She figured she'd done such a terrific job on Buffy, she had to share her talent with future generations of Summers. That had never happened, but she couldn't really complain. Looking at Anya, Tara, Willow, and Xander sprawled on the floor, tackling the crib, she realized she'd gotten her wish.

"Guys, maybe you should read the instructions? They put them in the box for a reason." Dawn crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at them. They were ignoring her, and she was ready to hose them all down for being such babies.

"I don't need instructions, Dawn. I build things for a living, Dawn." Xander told her in a tone that had Dawn searching for a hammer.

"Well, obviously, you don't build cribs because this one's still not up." Anya snarkily replied back.

"Guys. We have 2 days. 2 days to get this room completely finished before Buffy and Spike get home. We really need to stop fooling around." Willow said superiorly.

Anya and Xander stared at her as if a third eye had popped up on her forehead. "Excuse me?" Anya said, the sarcasm dripping off her tongue.

"We're not the ones who can't keep our hands off of each other long enough to put the border on the wall." Xander chimed in, saddened to realize that a few months ago that would have been him and Anya.

"We can keep our hands off each other. See?" Willow said, putting her hands up for Anya and Xander to inspect. "This is us, keeping our hands to ourselves." She stuck her tongue out and promptly turned around, only to crash into Tara.

"Oh, great. Lesbian Laurel and Hardy." Anya remarked. "I'm going to see what's happening with Giles. You guys are giving me a headache." She didn't really have a headache. She just wanted to be with Giles.

"I'll come with you." Dawn offered, needing a bread from babysitting.

They came down the stairs to find Giles pacing with the phone cradled to his ear.

"I'm happy to hear you and Spike are alright, Buffy. No, I think you should rest. I'll call the airline tonight to see if we can change your ticket. Now that we know for certain you're being followed, I do think it's best if you return to Sunnydale as soon as possible. I know this ends your honeymoon one day early, but I'd feel safer with you being here. At least, we'd have a smaller area to protect."

"And that's the irony of today, Sunnydale being safe. We should be back at the B&B tomorrow morning. As soon as Francoise feels it's safe to come for us. I'll call you when we get there or try us at this number. 1-866-CRAWFIS, without the H." Buffy giggled at the silence that greeted her.

"You do know how to spell crawfish, Giles?"

"Yes, I do, Buffy." Giles said exasperated by the impish giggle coming from the phone. God, he missed that impudence. "Dawn is here. She wants to speak to you." Giles handed the phone to Dawn, who grinned broadly at it.

Dawn took the phone from him, eager to talk to her sister. She turned to say thanks and saw them staring at each other. The look they shared reminded her of the sly glances Spike and Buffy gave each other. Her mouth gaped wide open. Spike was right. God, she couldn't wait to tell him.

"Dawn? Dawnie?"

"Oh, Buff, sorry. Got distracted. You're coming home early. Sorry."

"No, you're not." Buffy said, smiling.

"You're right." Dawn admitted unabashedly. "I've missed you guys."

"We've missed you too." Buffy yawned loudly into the phone. Spike pressed a kiss to her hand and followed Bebe to the small back room. Buffy watched him go and sighed. She was so whipped.

"Did you read the diary?" Dawn asked, trying not to turn around and see what she knew she would see. This was going to get ugly fast.

"We read a few enteries. She was so sad in the beginning, Dawn. God, it was like looking in the mirror." Buffy told her, her heart still pained for Martine.

"Are you okay? I mean, hearing what she had to say. Are you okay?"

Buffy smiled into the phone. "Yeah, Dawn. I'm fine. I have Spike. That girl is thankfully a distant memory. My life is too full of love for me to ever go back."

Dawn grinned. Things couldn't get any better. Buffy and Spike were madly, madly in love. She was going to be an aunt. Willow and Tara were moving in together. Giles and Anya and Xander. And… The crib.

"I'll let you go. See you tomorrow." Oh shit, Dawn thought. The room won't be ready. The surprise will be ruined. That wasn't going to happen. No it wasn't. Not on her watch. "Love you. Love Spike. Bye." Dawn turned, shoving the phone back into a startled Giles' hand, before she raced back up the stairs.

"Buffy?" Giles asked surprised.

"Giles?" Buffy asked perplexed. "What happened to Dawn?"

"She ran out of here like Satan was after her."

"That's ridiculous, Giles. Lucy is way to busy running the Corporation to come after someone like Dawn in person." Anya helpfully told him. Buffy shook her head over the comment, but admitted, it was good to know such things.

Giles agreed. "That's good to know, Anya."

Anya smiled shyly and slid over to him, her hand seeking his.

"Well, Buffy, call us tomorrow. Bye."

"Bye." She said, confused and worried by the strange behavior of her family. I hope the house is still standing.

"What's up, Buff? Everything alright in good ol' Sunnydale?" Spike asked, a grin spreading across his face at Buffy's eye roll at the phone.

Buffy shook herself, and put the phone back on the cradle. "We know some weird people. Did you know that?"

Spike lifted her in his arms, kissing her lightly on the nose. "Been telling you that for years, luv." He laid her down on the bed, smiling down at her. Her hand as usual was around her stomach, the other played with his pants' leg.

"You know this is the last night we'll be alone? Well, for the most part." Spike remarked, draping his body over hers. The bed springs creaked with his added weight but held firm. The bed wasn't much bigger than his sepulchre, but it was clean. They'd slept on worse, but any place with Buffy in it was better than any place without her.

Buffy rolled her eyes at the implication of his statement. Didn't matter where they were, Spike always wanted her. And she always wanted him. They were two of a kind. No one else was perfect for them, but each other. "With our luck, we won't scare the gators with all the noise, they'll think it's some kind of mating call. They'll be a hundred of them outside our door by morning. Do you really want to tempt fate, like that?"

"You betcha." Spike said, cupping her breasts as he nibbled her ear.



Dawn bounded up the stairs, hoping the three would be working and not chatting, but the stars were not in her favor tonight.

"I see you're all in the same positions I left you in earlier." Dawn said dryly. "Well, news flash. Buffy and Spike are coming home tomorrow. We are going to have this room ready for them. So Tara and Willow separate. Tara finish the border. Willow help Xander with the crib. Giles and Anya!" She screamed from the top of the stairs. "Come up here and finish putting up the curtains. I'm going to finish the flowers on the dresser. Okay. Everyone has his or her orders. Now go to work!" She told them, clapping her hands together.

Giles held Anya in his arms, breathing in her perfume. "We'd better get upstairs before Dawn comes down here."

"In a minute." Anya said, stretching on her toes to kiss him. His hands squeezed her tiny waist, drawing her closer to his firm lips. She stuck her tongue tentatively out to trace his bottom lip. Looking up at him, with eyes shaded by desire, she said. "Now, we can go."


Giles looked at the room with something akin to fear. Being a neat freak, the clutter of it had him breaking out in hives.

"Well, it seems we have a lot to do." Giles said, looking around at the eyes trained on him. "Let's get to it, people. They're coming home tomorrow, and I'm sure you would like to have this done by then."

"See, all we needed was a captain for this ship." Xander said as Willow read the directions out loud.

"Yep, just call us the Titanic." Dawn quipped.



Shackleford was ready to murder the entire Hemmings clan. "We lost a man!" He barked into the phone. His agitated tone had Travers' arching his brow in surprise.

"Did the Slayer kill him?" Impossible. She didn't kill humans.

"No, an alligator ate him. We barely made it out of there ourselves. That damn clan held us hostage. We lost the girl and the vamp." He admitted. Shackleford slammed his hand repeatedly against the dashboard. Dewey looked over, concerned the airbag would go off, which might not be a bad thing after all. But then Shackleford would probably blame him for that too.

"Where do I send my condolences?"

"France." Shackleford answered just as sarcastically. That brief exchange seemed to snap him out of his tirade, and Travers could sense Shackleford was returning to his usual bastard self. "The Slayer escaped by boat. We don't know where they are staying tonight. We will find them in the morning."

Dewey sped along the dusty road, his face blank save for the tick in his cheek. Death wasn't anything new to him. He'd fought in many official and unofficial wars. But these things didn't happen to people like him and Shackleford. He was a merc. He was ready to die by bullet, bomb, or blade, but a fucking reptile. To be taken out by an animal with a brain the size of a pea. No, that was wrong, and it didn't bode well for the success of this mission.

"Head to Sunnydale. They'll be returning there as soon as possible, if I know Rupert. You've missed your chance to discover what Jayme's relatives knew. Let them go home. Get settled, relaxed in their vigilance, then we'll strike."

Travers hung up, leaning back in his chair. He studied the pictures of Spike and Buffy at their wedding. Their smiling faces taunted him. He would have let the Slayer have her vampire lover as long as she fulfilled her duties, but this child. She was a different matter all together. Her power would not be contained, and she could possibly be swayed to the dark. He couldn't afford to let her live, no matter how innocent she seemed.



"You certainly like to live dangerously." Buffy gasped as Spike collapsed beside her.

"It's all your fault... luv. If you weren't so damn beautiful and sexy, I'd be able to stay away from you." Spike kicked at the sheet entangled around his feet, and with a near-shout of victory, yanked it up to cover them. Buffy lay on her side, still trying to catch her breath, her arm and leg straddling his body.

"Don't want you to say away from me."

Spike chuckled as Buffy's fingers played with his nipples. "Not a problem, Pet." Spike lifted her wandering fingers to his lips, kissing the tips.

"Now go to sleep, I have plans for you in the morning."

"I can't sleep, Spike. You've got me all wired, and I want to play." She purred, her eyelashes fluttering against her skin.

"How am I supposed to fall asleep?" She said, peppering kisses on his chest.

"I could read to you? Until you fell asleep."

Buffy's eyes glistened. "Another hormone attack?" Spike asked her gently. She shook her head.

"Are you going to read to our daughter?" She asked, her lip trembling.

"Yeah, Luv, I am." Buffy could see them sitting in the moonlight, a book of fairytales in one hand, their precious little girl in the other. She was never more in love with him than when she thought of him with their child, their creation. She caressed his face, pouring all the love she felt into the gesture.

Spike accepted the gesture, feeling the force of her love burn a path straight to his heart. "Alright, you vixen. Now, sit back and relax."

Buffy snuggled up next to him, her hand reaching out to steady the book, and also to make Spike more comfortable. Okay, so she wanted him to rub her back and hair, but she was being a considerate wife, nevertheless.


i February 14th

It is Valentine's Day. And don't think the irony is lost on me. I am the vampire Slayer, and here I am flirting rather shamelessly with the enemy. But Henri makes me laugh, even when we're trying to kill each other. I haven't laughed in so long. It seems like another lifetime ago since I felt this free. Henri surprised me tonight. He brought me flowers. They were gorgeous wildflowers. I asked him who he killed to get them, and he laughed till he cried. I told him we shouldn't be doing this. And he asked me why? I told him it was wrong, and of course, he had an answer for me. Always has to have the last word. So, he told me if it would make me feel better we could fight to the death. End it all now. Be rid of each other once and for all. It hurt my heart when he said it, and I ran as fast as I could from him. Stupid man. I should want him dead, but I don't.


February 15th

There were 3 murders last night. Close to where I left Henri, and I cannot help but feel responsible for the deaths. I did not do my duty and people died. I cannot let this affair continue. Obsession is a better word for it. I look forward to seeing him each night. I eagerly await the fight, the battle, the opportunity to try and best him. Why is that? Why does a dead man make me feel so alive? Tonight, I tell him this has to end. We are enemies... Aren't we?


February 15th

I have done something so awful and wonderful, and if it hadn't been for those Fryal demons attacking us, it might have gone further. I confronted Henri, and for the first time since the first time we met, we fought. There was no talking, no laughing, no joking. We fought and became what we were all along. Slayer. Vampire. Till something snapped, a crackle in the air, in us, and we were fighting no longer. We were in each others' arms, grasping and stroking with our mouths and tongues. I tasted my blood on his lips, felt the bruises rise on my flesh as he held me tightly. So close, yet so far. I yearned for him to claim me, and he heard my call. He sunk his teeth into the flesh of my neck, and the world went white, as pure and clear as a star bursting in the sky. I was not afraid. I did not fear for my life, for I knew somewhere deep in my soul. He would not hurt me. And he didn't. He licked my wounds, then brought his mouth to mine in a kiss that bound me to him./i