Can I tell you what it's like to finally realise that you're not fully human?

Stone-cold terrifying, that's what it is. And every so often, you'll start to forget, only to be brutally reminded again.

For me, it didn't really hit home until Sam's friends, the Rambo twins or whatever, showed up to help with (okay, plan and carry out) the raid on the cave. Oh, sure, I knew I was sleeping all day, that my reflection was slowly but surely disappearing, that I could shrug off gravity like an ugly sweater and, scariest of all, that I was getting more and more desperate for blood with each passing day. But it's easy to slip into denial when something's a secret. Hearing those two call me a vampire, the way they talked to me and, more importantly, about me, made it impossible to deny. It was like a nail in my heart, one I'd gotten used to having there, to the point where I didn't feel it anymore. But ever word was like a hammer, and let me tell you, I sure felt it as they drove the nail in.

I probably would have slipped over the edge if it weren't for those two harebrained lunatics. Don't tell them, it'll just encourage them, but if they hadn't been there, making what I was sound vulgar, wrong, disgusting, I probably would've given in to my thirst. I'd resigned myself to my fate, ignored Sam's and Star's words meant to comfort and give hope, had even begun to rationalize killing someone. It wasn't my fault, there was nothing else I could do, it was too late... But those little jerks didn't even try to spare my feelings, and I realised that for even considering the unthinkable, I didn't deserve to have my feelings spared. It was that more than anything that brought me around again. I didn't have any faith in their abilities as vampire hunters, but I didn't need to. I just needed a swift kick in the ass to wake me up again. I needed to see that I still had a choice.

And now, I realise, I made the right one.

The house is a wreck, the car through the wall and the sharpened fence posts that killed Max, as well as the subsequent explosion, having destroyed most of it beyond recognition. But our family, such as it is, is intact. I can't help but think that it's at least partially thanks to those two bozos, who even now are bragging about their kills, that we're all here and alive. I still can't believe that I got thrown from the first floor clear onto the second, through the railing, and barely suffered a scratch. Or that I fought David and didn't lose.

Oh, sure, I've acted tough for ages, ever since Sam and I found out what Dad was doing behind Mom's back. But even I can tell that I'm not half as tough as I pretend to be. I'm just a little kid playing dress-up in a biker punk's persona. Part of the reason David offered me the blood in the first place, part of the reason I accepted, was because we both knew that if it came to a fight, I would lose.

But I didn't.

I think it surprised me as much as, if not more than, it did him. Cocky bastard. I tell myself I'm glad he's gone, glad it's over, that he'll never torment me again. But I know better.

We were friends, for a while. I won't – can't – just forget that. It doesn't mean I'd take back what I did – actually, if I had the chance, I'd do it all again. But we were friends. And then, somehow, we weren't anymore. Somehow, I learned to hate him enough to kill him.

He'll always torment me now. My memories, knowing that I ended the life of someone who'd been my best friend, will follow me for the rest of my life. Maybe David did win our fight, after all. Because, when all's said and done, I only proved him right.

I am a killer.

With this realisation, icy fear grips my stomach, and I shout, unprepared for its assault. They're all on me in an instant, Sam, my mother, Star, all fussing, wondering if I'm hurt. But I'm not. If I was injured during that ordeal, it's healed already. And that's part of this new fear.

Oh God. I was still half-vampire when I killed David. And what did Sam say? You're only half a vampire...until you make your first kill.

Shit.

It feels almost like I'm drowning, and I cling to Star, desperate for air. "What is it?" she asks, worry and fear naked in her voice. "Michael, what's wrong?"

Outside, the sun begins to rise.