I don't own Twilight or any Twilight characters, and I wish I didn't have to keep repeating this, but the damn lawers are holding guns and copyrights to my head. DX And I apologize for taking so long, but I hope the length will appease you.

Blood Requiem

Part Three: Believing In Dreams

I know
Days will come and go
Maybe I'll grow old
But I will die

For now
Is it worth it to be sad
If it's harder to be glad
To be alive?

But the trouble I have caused
I wonder
Where do I belong?
Is it here?

Believe in dreams
You love so much
Let the passion of your heart
Make them real
And tell
All the ones you love
Anything and everything you feel

Laugh about the past
And secretly
Wish we could go back
And save the child

As I look around this room
Seeing worried eyes that know
It's time we cannot buy
Was this worth the time to write
Was this worth the time to write

Believe in dreams
I believe in dreams
I believe in dreams
I believe in you

Believe in dreams
You love so muchLet the passion of your heart
Make them real
And tell
All the ones you love
Anything and everything you feel

Believe in dreams
Believe in dreams

For a little while, I just drove around town aimlessly, often barraged by old memories. I probably shouldn't have been driving a car being, at times, almost cripplingly incapacitated. But I didn't care. So I kept on driving, playing victim to reminiscence. I guess I'm just a sucker for nostalgia, as they say.

Small, sprawling houses loosely lined the streets, bordered nearly constantly by forest and thick undergrowth. The memories continued.

"Quickly, Cassandra!" Mamma said to me.

We ran to the ship, hauling burlap bags along with us. We were jostled and pushed around by the other frantic people tying to gain passage into the hull of the boat. Suddenly, a hefty woman crashed into me, pulling my hand from my mother's.

"Cassandra!" My mother cried out frantically. "Cassandra, Cassandra!"

"Mamma!" I called back to her. For an instant, I saw her pale face in the sea of people. And then, with a strength I didn't know I possessed, I pushed through the crowd, easily shoving aside a man nearly twice my height. As I passed, he looked down bewilderedly at me. I didn't notice; I was already making my way past the other people ahead. When I finally broke through the swarm and reached Mamma, I threw myself into her arms and she held me tightly. With an arm around the each other's waists to make sure we wouldn't be separated again, we finally made it onto the craft.

Later that night in the dark, dank hull of the ship, lying on makeshift bedding of clothes, I asked my mother about him.

"Mamma, what happened to father?" I asked.

My mother smiled softly in the darkness. "You're father was a wonderful, kind man. I loved him very much. I needed him." Mamma got a faraway look in her eyes then. They were purple, like mine, and practically glowed.

"What happened to him?" I asked again, whispering.

"He died of sickness. A severe infection, I think. When you were only a few months old." My mother's brow creased with the unpleasant memory.

"Did he love me?"

"Yes! Oh yes, of course he did! You and I were his world. I remembered how he smiled when he held you." Mamma laughed quietly, smiling, then sighed happily.

"I love you too, Mamma." I paused for a moment, absorbing the information. "Before, you said you needed him. What did you mean?"

"Oh, Cassandra, you are full of questions." Her voice fell to a thin whisper, and her expression became wistful. "It's because of what I am. We were angels once, a long, long time ago. And we fell from heaven, and some of us came to Earth, and others went...elsewhere. We were condemned; I'm not sure I remember why, but when we die, we are condemned to neither go to Heaven nor Hell. And that is where our souls stay till, at some time, we return to earth again, born anew as something or someone else, all memories gone. But there is a way to save us from this condemnatory cycle. We fall in love. Truly in love, and be truly loved back. And when you die, and die together, we can finally rest in peace."

"But now that Pappa is gone, what will happen to you?" I asked.

"The cycle for my soul will begin again, and I will go through this life as another person. Another witch, with all these unearthly capabilities I contain. I'll go through purgatory, not able to pass on, and in that next life, I'll have no memories of this life. But eventually, our souls, like old, worn clothes, will fray, tatter, and tear, and come apart, dissolving—you could say— into nothing."

"Nothing?" I asked fearfully.

Yes, nothing, absolutely nothing. The tattered pieces of our souls would be scattered across this world and into the next. And that will happen to you, if you don't find your love, your soul's counterpart, and ascend to heaven. I hope you do, I don't want you to go through this more than once."

"How long do we live for in one life?"

"Three centuries. And then the cycle begins again. And in that time, we cannot die. It's... troubling, you see." My mother's forehead creased in mute distress.

"But if we live for so long, and humans don't live as long as we do—" I began to say, but Mamma answered before I finished.

"You see," Mamma smiled, holding up a finger, "when we find our counterpart, and for as long as they're with us, they will live as long as we do, and then, we can die together. But, as you know, humans are fallible; they are still susceptible to sickness and trauma of the body, and if they are mortally wounded or sick, there's... no saving them." Mother face then acquired a look of infinite sadness.

I put my hand on her cheek, and she looked up at me. "Don't be sad, Mamma, please."

"It's all right, Cassandra," she lied, smiling slightly. "Now, it's time for us to sleep."

I gripped the steering wheel tighter, until I felt it give way slightly under my hands. I loosened my crushing grasp. I noticed wasn't breathing. Slowly, I forced myself inhale, and exhale. And then, came more painful memories. When Mamma and I arrived at America...

It was years after we first made the crossing from France. I started growing slowly very noticeably. Eleven years had passed, but it seemed like it was only three, as if time compressed itself into a small span, and my body had yet to keep up.

Mamma had used up her last years in this world, and soon she would leave. The prospect tore at my heart, and I fought back the encroaching loneliness and sadness.

"It would seem your mother has a very high fever; it won't break. There's nothing I can do." The doctor said dejectedly.

I nodded; I understood. But I knew that it wasn't a fever. The ties that held my Mother's soul to her body were worn and had severed. She would leave soon, and she—my Mother, my dear, sweet Mamma—would be gone, and then I will have lost her forever to a purgatory she didn't deserve and return as someone else, and not be the mother I knew. That was worse than having her pass on but still be the Mamma I loved.

My mother turned to me, placing a hand to my cheek; it was hot, as if she did have a fever. "Cassandra," my Mamma's voice was weak and raspy, "be happy for me. And find him."

"I will, Mamma." I held her hand to my cheek, and she closed her eyes, and her soul left me.

The worst was yet to come. The memories of ... him. Oh, how I miss him. My eyes grew wide involuntarily and filling with stinging tears, blinding me. I slammed on the brakes, not taking the chance of crashing into anything. A high-pitched, hysterical laugher sliced from my throat as I tilted my head back. It was a frantic, anguished sound. The tears spilled from my eyes and the un-laughter turned to heaving sobs. My head dipped forward and slammed against the curved grip of the steering wheel. I sat there, sobbing, as the agony gripped me so tightly I could hardly breathe; it left me gasping horribly.

The memories flashed like white-hot embers behind my eyes...

"Don't worry," Andrew whispered to me, brushing away the strands of my hair that had fallen in front of my face, "I'll always be here to protect you, and love you."

"Do you promise?" I asked weakly, looking up at him.

"I promise." He said softly. He rapped his arms around me comfortingly and kissed the top of my head.

I wished they would stop. The memories... hurt, so much. It was unbearable. But they continued to attack me, the soft, bittersweet brush of their warmth and familiarity cutting relentlessly into my heart.

I was now reliving the time we first met.

The year is 1929, June 7. Ever since My mother died, I had been traveling sporadically all across the country. It was harder and harder, as years went by, because by growth had slowed down until it was almost non-existent. I currently looked like I was sixteen—seventeen years old, when it was over triple that. Mother said it would go on like this till I had stopped growing entirely. By then, I would look to be about in my late twenties, in which form I would stay in until I died.

I was meandering down the sidewalk, next to the street where bulbous, awkward, clunky T-birds— brand-new automobiles—chugged past with people scurrying across the road at sidewalk corners. I stared absently at the light blue sky, brooding. Suddenly, I slammed into something; the force knocked me back and I fell on my backside on the walk. I looked up to see a young man—also knocked onto his ass—who looked to be in shock and slightly sore. He was carrying a couple paper bags of food, which was now strewn on the sidewalk.

"I'm so sorry!" I gasped, going forward on my hands and knees to see if he was alright.

He looked to me, looking bewildered for a moment, before a dazzling smile broke out on his face and he laughed lightly. "That quite alright, I'm fine. Are you all right?" He looked at me with genuine concern.

His good nature was catching; I smiled back. "I'm fine, but what will become of your produce?" I asked teasingly, sounding comically formal.

The young man pursed his lips, and raised an eyebrow, playing along. "I believe that most of it will be salvageable, no need for alarm."

He sprang lightly to his feet and offered me his hand. I took it eagerly and he pulled me gently to my feet. "Let me help you with that." I grabbed one of the bags and began picking up the fruits and vegetables and such from the sidewalk. He filled another himself, and we picked up the last remaining articles of food and put them in the last paper bag.

"Thank you for your help...?" He trailed off, waiting patiently for me to tell him my name.

"Cassandra Deveraux." I responded.

"Andrew Dahlmier, at your service." He took a sweeping bow. He returned to a standing position; his smile hung on his lips for a few moments before being replaced by an expression of mock solemnity. "Now that we are past the friendly preliminaries, I think we should get down to a more serious matter."

I looked at him in confusion.

"I will make it my duty to compensate you for this unpleasant mishap." The tone of his voice was as if he were shamed, and he took another submissive bow.

"I am not sure this was unpleasant," I countered, smiling.

"In any case, I must make it up to you." He pressed. "Do you know of the small coffee shop on Main?"

I nodded. "Yes, I do."

"Well, I'd like to make it up to you...over a cup of coffee—or maybe something else? Will you come?" He asked me.

I pursed my lips, deliberating. "All right, I'll come."

"Thank you. I'll see you there at... seven o'clock?"

"Of course." I laughed lightly. "Goodbye, Andrew Dahlmier."

"Goodbye, Miss Cassandra." He tipped an invisible hat to me and walked off, glancing back over his shoulder to me.

I smiled, turned around, and walked away.

I couldn't breathe now, and the tears were still streaming down my face. At this rate, I'd go unconscious. I hugged myself tightly, digging my nails into my arms; I forced myself to take a breath, and it rattled in my throat. I forced myself to take another, and another, until I was breathing almost normally. The tears slowed, but didn't stop coming. I didn't have anymore sudden flashes of memories, and though I tried not to think about it, I could recall what happened afterwards from where the memories left off.

I had met Andrew later that day in the coffee shop, and we talked. The attraction was instantaneous. And over the months Andrew and I grew closer and closer together. I had learned that he was nineteen and living on his own in that city, working as a mechanic's assistant. I told him how I was living at the Nightingale Inn, working at a flower shop a few streets away.

Andrew and I were inseparable; we were deeply, emotionally connected in such a way, and with such a intensity I never thought possible. Without one another, we were incomplete. We had found our soul mates in each other, and no force on Earth, and neither in Heaven nor Hell, would keep us apart. At least, that's what we believed. Hell had intervened in our heaven on earth.

Andrew often came to my home at the Inn for evening visits. One night, when he had planned to come visit me, he never came. I waited for hours, I grew anxious, so I went out looking for him. I knew nighttime wasn't the safest time to be out, but I could handle myself. I was probably more safe out at night than Andrew. So I had walked down the route he usually took to come to me. And... well, the rest, as they say, is history. But history was never this painful. Tragedy would have been better suited.

When... when I saw him there, my entire world crumbled around me; my heart was ripped apart, crushed, and ground into the dirt. I might as well have died with him, that would have been best. And in a way, I did. I am. I die, over and over again, every moment of every hour of every day. It wears me down to nothing. Just pain. And hate. I have one more century to endure, I might as well get the justice of killing the one that killed my love. And me.

And so here I am. Planning my revenge. Then, once I'm done, I can finally die, somewhat, in peace. Even if my afterlife won't be peaceful.

I started the car again and sped down the roads, heading directly for the highschool.

So give all your poisons,

And give me all your pills,

And give me all your hopeless hearts

And make me ill

You're running after something

That you'll never kill

If this is what you want

Then fire at will

Ok, I've supplied you with part three of my lovely new story, dear readers, so pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleasePLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLEEEEAAAASSSEEEE REEEVIIIEEEEWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! -DIES- XX