"Betrayal is the only thing I can trust you to do."

The words were stakes and each one pierced a little closer to her heart. She had to run from them. Further than the garage, out of the school gates, blazing through the heavy rain like a bullet – nothing more than a ghost to the breathers who dared to brave the weather.

"I'm not Mir."

Moisture made her clothes formless as they clung to her shaking form. But it wasn't because of the cold; Erin's body had been cold for so long.

"I don't think I can trust you."

She found a corner, an empty booth in a cafe that was miserable, both in its lack of patrons and the unstoppable shower outside. As she stepped inside, shaking rain from ashy-blonde hair, a waitress shot her a concerned look. Erin ignored it and parked herself in the furthest corner of the shop, bringing up her knees to rest under her chin.

Mir wasn't Mir. He didn't trust her. He couldn't trust her with the truth of whatever was wrong with him. Because she'd lied and cheated and hurt and betrayed. She was infinitely worse than Ingrid; she was unpredictable.

A steaming cup of coffee was placed on the table in front of her and the waitress slipped into the seat opposite her. "What's wrong honey? If it's a fella, I bet you can do better than him." The woman was young, perhaps a year or two older than her with warm brown eyes and short ebony hair. She looked like she wouldn't understand Erin's plight.

The vampire gave the woman a gormless look before retreating back into her shell. "Don't you have customers to serve?" It occurred to her after she'd said it that she was the only person in the cafe.

The waitress laughed. "You see any other customers? This place don't have business – even when it ain't raining." She pushed the cup of coffee towards Erin. "Come on love, you need to talk it out. I've seen bottled people before. You need to let it out."

Oh Erin could let it out. She could let it out in a flurry of fury and violence, she could eviscerate this woman and kill the entire street. She was a monster – she could do anything she liked, kill anyone she choose, have anyone she wanted-

-Except Mir.

Her thoughts choked to a halt and she frowned at the woman and her inviting honey-coloured eyes. "It's my fault." But wasn't it Mir's fault? Because Mir wasn't Mir and if Mir wasn't Mir that meant he was Vlad and Vlad betrayed Erin and-

-"If it's your fault why don't you apologise?"

"I don't know how to fix it," There was nothing special about the woman, no supernatural quality or enchanting aura. She was just a girl, nineteen or twenty working in a failing cafe. There was no reason for Erin to feel inclined to "talk it out" but the waitress had spark, she was a kind face and Erin hadn't seen a kind face for so long. "I lied and I messed up. He doesn't trust me and he has no reason to."

She felt strange being honest. Erin had become so adjusted to a life among vampires and slayers, a life where compassion and truth were only weaknesses that she wasn't sure she knew how to tell the truth anymore. And it seemed like the waitress sensed that.

The woman nodded understandingly, a friendly smile tugging at uneven lips. "More than just a fella then." She took a slurp of the coffee, realising that Erin didn't intend to drink it. "You want him back, yeah?"

Erin glared at her.

"Well if he don't think he can trust you, you need to prove to him that you changed. Like I was with a guy, awhile back," She pulled her hair behind her face and took a quick breath. Erin recognised it as a way to psyche herself up to face the memories. "And we had this huge fight – like throwing shit and screaming and it was my fault, I didn't mean to but I did wrong."

"What did you do?"

"Nuthin', but I shoulda'." Her lips curved sadly. "If I said sorry – if I proved to 'im that I wasn't gonna keep doing bad shit I think things shoulda' worked out."

Erin huffed. "Real good encouragement there. I feel much better about my relationship knowing that yours didn't work out,"

The waitress' face crumpled for a moment and the vampire realised she was being insensitive. Regardless of offence, the woman spoke on. "That's not what I'm tryna say, love." Taking a deep sip and looking at the table, she continued. "I'm tryna say that you gotta try and fix it. Being in here with yours truly ain't going to patch things up, and you've made it pretty clear that you don't wanna be here."

She looked hopefully at Erin, positivity in the pale, stony face of a vampire. She wondered if the woman was talking sense, that maybe Erin shouldn't disregard her advice just because she was human and had no idea how vampires behaved.

Mir or Vlad or whoever he was had never behaved much like a vampire anyway.

The vampire rose to her feet, regarding the breather with a guarded expression. "Thanks for the coffee." She said gruffly. Then she sped away, leaving only a couple of coins and a damp seat as evidence that the blonde had ever been there.

The plastic and aluminium body was bending in her fingers by the time she found Mir. He didn't notice her, seated alone in his room, eyes lowered to an object Erin couldn't see, resting in his coffin.

Then her eyes caught the small tufted ears peeking over the coffin rim and she knew it was Mr Cuddles clutched in his hands.

She walked around to face him. He wasn't surprised to see her and she hadn't silenced her footsteps. The phone slipped from her hands and would've smashed on the floor if not for a pale hand that shot out and caught it. "Erin." Mir's voice was tinged with wariness but his eyes were sad. "I'm surprised you want to talk to me." He looked at the bear, twisting the ears and fidgeting with the limbs.

The silence drew out into eternity. No words came to mind for Erin to say and fix everything and Mir appeared to have no intention to speak. Outside, the wind rattled the window.

"I'm sorry." Both vampires spoke simultaneously.

Mir's brows dipped into a frown. "Why are you sorry? You didn't do anything." He placed the bear aside. "I'm the one who should be apologising."

"It's-"

"Shut up. It's hard enough to do this without you interrupting me." He took a deep breath and Erin was struck by how different it was to Vlad's apologies. "Sorry. I lashed out at you. I,,," He winced. "I didn't want you to hate me because of all..."

Erin sat herself on the edge of the coffin. Their knees were almost touching. The vampire felt herself oddly aware of the fact and had no desire to change it. "Because of what?" She asked. "You never actually got to that part."

He stared at her, the same vulnerable openness that had pulled her in before glittering in rings of sapphire. It reminded her of Vlad – and Erin was surprised that this fact didn't bother her in the slightest. "I am not sure who I am anymore." His eyes roved over her, checking the reaction to his words. "I don't think I am the person you met weeks ago but I don't think I am the person who left here." The vampire looked around his room. "I think I am somewhere in between. And I don't want you to hate me."

"I already knew that you'd changed." Not on a conscious level, but now, thinking on it, she realised that those traits of Vlad had been leaking back through all the time she'd been with him. The realisation was both harrowing and relieving.

If she was aware that Vlad was returning, why was she fine with it? How could she let the man who manipulate her and systematically destroyed her life get away with it?

"Erin." Mir was watching her. "Please tell me what you are thinking."

"Can't you already tell?"

"I don't want to take it from you."

"Go ahead, read me – I don't know how to word it anyway." Hah. Six months ago she had mused where Vlad psychic powers could lead – look at him now, a mindreader.

There was something growing in the air between them, something that Erin tried to dispel with wit and confidence, Mir could feel it too and she didn't need mind-reading skills to pick up on that.

They were millimetres apart, nose-to-nose, not thinking, only feeling. Controlled by a bond that went further than immortality and being. His eyes were locked to hers and his lips were slightly parted and Erin believed she could forgive Vlad for all he had done.

Then came the high-pitch scream.

It racketed through her eardrums, so shrill – searing – that her sight failed her. She fell away from Mir, no longer able to see, hands clamped over her bleeding ears – her only sensory input a scream, white and red and burning. Her knees hit the floor but she hadn't realised she was falling, her head might have hit Mir's coffin but she couldn't feel past the agony. All there was, was the metallic shriek. Limbs jittered, failing her over and over again as she tried to move, to go somewhere, anywhere to get away from the monstrous noise.

When her head landed on the floor and she lost touch with consciousness it was a relief.