Flash
Author's notes: This is a story that I was inspired to write. Note the hinted pairing! I don't think romance is my style. Waaaah!
Disclaimer: Everything is not mine. Maybe not even the pairing.
The iconograph flashed once more. A bottle shattered yet again. A man blossomed up from the ashes. He always told himself it would be the last time, but he could never give up the black ribbon that was a barricade against his former life. Resurrection always brought back painful memories. Sometimes he hated them, sometimes he pined for them, but they always came, sooner or later.
She had been the one vampire he had ever loved. She was not astonishingly beautiful, neither was she ugly, always hopping in between. He remembered the night when she dragged him to the door of the dark building that he had always feared. Poverty had driven them to it. Hunger as well. Home had burnt under night fires; belongings had been looted, their owners driven away by pitchforks and threats. Driving them to the Black Ribboners, bedraggled and burnt.
They had gone in half dead and they had come out different, changed vampires. She had left him, alone and forlorn with an iconograph and a kiss that lasted on his cheek forever. When they met again, in Ankh–Morpork, she had forgotten him, her only memories being armies and soldiers.
As he sat in the cold cellar of the printing shed, he thought of the old happy times. He wished that they had never changed and that she would still be with him, laughing at his antics, smiling once more.