Edgewood Towers

Grace lay in bed, unmoving. Ever since Chloe had attacked her in Death's Kiss, she wouldn't wake up. When they'd first brought her back to the Towers, she'd been a mess; bloody, top of her skull half crushed. They'd cleaned up the blood, and the wound seemed to have mostly healed, but she wouldn't wake up.

"I'll kill the bitch for this," Deacon said quietly from where he sat next to the bed.

Reinhardt glanced down at him, but said nothing. He'd like to kill Chloe too.

'New York,

Grace's coma dream

(memory)

She was at this cool dance club, a place called Frozen, even though she was too young to get in by herself. But she never went there alone. She only went there with Deacon. Her parents didn't know about any of this, of course. They'd flip if they did. She was dancing with him, still a little shy even though she'd known him almost a month and a half. She thought she liked him a lot. Liked his hypnotic ice blue eyes, his brown hair, his sly, charming smile, the way he talked to her. And yet she thought there was almost something…dark about him. So, it was then he led her off the dance floor.

"Deacon?" she said, puzzled.

He looked back at her. "I have a surprise for you," he said.

"What kind of surprise?" she asked, a little suspicious, as she resisted his pull.

"You'll see," he said mysteriously.

But she still resisted.

He stopped and turned back to her. They were just off to the side of the front door now.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I…dunno," she said, looking away from his intense gaze, "It's…nothing, I guess."

He raised his hand to the side of her face, thumb on her cheek. "I like you a lot, Grace," he said honestly, "I won't hurt you."

She looked up at him for a moment, then nodded, "Alright," she said, her heart fluttering.

He smiled, leading her out the door. Parked out front was a metallic black motorcycle. His motorcycle. He looked back at her again to see that she looked unsure.

"Hey, trust me, I won't get you killed," he joked.

"Oh, it's not that," she said, "It's just…"

"You've never ridden a motorcycle before?" he guessed.

"Yeah," she said sheepishly.

"It'll be fine," he said, pulling her on behind him, "Just hang on."

Some time later, they stood in an elevator together. He'd taken her to his place, but she wasn't as unsure as before. The elevator doors opened at the top floor to revel a hallway. He led her around a bend in the hall to a large room. Her eyes widened; the décor was modern, silver in color. There were pools of water with built in lights, and a large bubbling waterfall.

"Wow…" she said softly.

"Yeah, it's alright," he said, but was pleased none-the-less with her reaction.

"Alright?" she repeated, looking over at him. When she saw that he was smiling, she shut her mouth, blushing a little.

"Come on, you've got to see the view," he said, taking her by the hand and leading her across the room to the large balcony.

"Wow," she said again, leaning her hands of the railing as she gazed out over the brightly lit city, "It's beautiful."

"Not as beautiful as you," he said.

Blushing, she turned to him. As she did, a light breeze blew her golden ringlets across her face. He raised a hand and brushed her hair away. She started to ask him if he was serious, when he kissed her. Her heart fluttered and a shiver ran up her spine. Whoa…He broke the kiss, face inches from hers as he gazed into her eyes. His hand was lightly at the back of her head. She didn't have time for her words of surprise, because he kissed her again, deeply. Her mind was spinning, and her heart racing. This was so…unexpected…gently, she pushed him back.

"Too fast?" he said, as if reading her mind.

Breathless, she merely nodded.

"Sorry," he said.

Her heart still racing, making her feel dizzy, she turned to look out over the city again. The breeze blew her hair back over her shoulders as he stood behind her. He tilted her head to the side, and for some reason, she closed her eyes, leaning back against him. The closeness of his presence was intoxicating, to say the least, it was clouding her senses. He lowered his face to her neck, breathing in her sweet scent. He couldn't wait any longer. He sank his sharp teeth into the tender side of her neck. She flinched, started to cry out, but he quieted her by biting down just a little harder. She whimpered softly for a moment as he drank, and weakly tried to get away, but he held her arms still. He pulled away a moment later, cradling her in his arms as her eyes slipped closed.

A night passed. Then another. Grace had turned.

She and Deacon were headed to Frozen, walking down a dim back street. That's when she saw too familiar people walking towards them.

"Grace?" her mother exclaimed with surprise, stopping, "Where the hell have you been? We've been worried sick!"

"I…" Grace started, seeming oddly unsure.

"And who the hell are you?" her father demanded of Deacon.

Grace glanced from him to her father, her mouth open but no sound coming out.

"You'd better have a damn good explanation," her father said.

Seeming frustrated, Deacon glanced at Grace, then back at her parents. "You're getting on my nerves," he growled, reaching for her father.

Grace stepped back, barely managing to utter a horrified gasp as her eyes widened. She could only watch as he killed them, ripped her father's throat out, broke her mother's neck. She took another step back as Deacon turned to her. He saw her expression and knew almost instantly that he'd made a huge mistake. This would tear her apart, make her hate him forever. So he took the memory from her. So she wouldn't have to be haunted by it. Hoped that one day they would meet again…'

Back in the present, Grace stirred slightly, murmuring in her sleep.

"Grace?" Deacon said softly, leaning forward.

She stirred again, and her eyes fluttered open. "Deacon?" she said, sitting up.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

She didn't say anything, but stood and went over to the window. He stood as well, following her with his eyes.

After a moment, she spoke. "You killed them," she said bitterly, not moving.

"What?" Deacon said, puzzled, walking up behind her.

"You killed them," Grace repeated, her voice oddly cold.

When she turned, her eyes were dark and bottomless. She hit him across the face, causing him to stumble back a step.

"You're the reason I don't have a family!" she said angrily, launching a snap kick that caught him square in the chest and knocked him halfway across the room. There were tears in her smoldering eyes now, and her voice sounded choked, but she didn't stop.

"Grace," Deacon said after he'd gotten to his feet, reaching out for her.

She grabbed his wrist, not even paying any attention to his emotions that she could feel.

"It's your fault," she said, tears starting down her face even as she twisted his arm around, "That they're gone." She twisted his arm harder until she heard bones snap.

And this whole time, he didn't stop her, didn't fight her. Because he could feel her anger, her despair, and he knew that, some how, she'd remembered. Grace dissolved into silent tears, leaning against him for a moment. He moved to put his other arm around her, but she jerked away. It was then that the door opened.

"What the hell's-…Grace," Priest said.

"Make sure she's alright," Deacon said, wincing slightly as he moved his broken arm.

As Priest led Grace from the room, Verlaine came into the room.

"What happened?" she asked in the vampire dialect.

"Long story," Deacon said quietly. "…What can you do for broken arms?"

Grace sat out on the balcony, leaning her head against the railing. Priest stood next to her, listening when she managed to speak, and waiting patiently when she was quiet. They usually got along quite well, but he was being unusually patient with her. As she fell quiet for a moment, she remembered…that first night…when she met Deacon…

Author Note: Sorry it took me soooo long to update! I got caught up with school, and then exams, and everything. I hope this chapter didn't come out too bad though, I've been working on it for a long while. Well, till next time.