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Logan hadn't been back to Weston in almost 50 years. He had been running wild, travelling the country and even going to Mexico a few times. However, a rush of nostalgia made him yearn for his hometown, so he decided to visit.

He couldn't believe all the changes. Where there were blacksmiths or pubs in the 1900's, the 1950's bore gas stations or small restaurants. Instead of puffy blouses and polite behavior, the teenage boys wore either leather jackets or neat sweaters and beat one another up. Walking and horseback riding was switched out for nice cars.

Logan couldn't even recognize his hometown, but one thing did stay the same. His home remained just as he left it, with its massive size, stables, and guest house. He wondered who lived there now- somebody, or else a car would not occupy the now paved driveway.

He considered going to the cemetery to visit his family's graves and see when they died, but he decided against it. Perhaps it was best not to know.

He kept seeing posters everywhere- WATCH OUT FOR VAMPIRES! Every place was different nowadays. Some towns he had been to welcomed vampires and served them donated blood upon request- which he thought was smart. That way the vampires wouldn't be feeding off of citizens, after all. Some places- like Weston- did not welcome them. Vampires were free to be killed if detected and Logan was horrified to find that after they were killed, the fangs were pried out and sold. Needless to say, in towns like these, he kept his mouth closed. He knew unless the people had a stake, they couldn't do anything, but he still didn't want trouble.

James sat against the brick wall of the alleyway, the air smoky, but not by him.

"Ha! Beat that!" he chimed happily, throwing down his cards onto the concrete and making his gang groan and toss in their bets- whatever they had in their pockets, whether it be baseball cards, gum, money, or cigarettes. Although James didn't smoke, which was rare for "greasers", he could trade the cigarettes for other things.

"That's it- you're kicked outta this game," Dak, their leader, said with a smirk. "You're too good."

James rolled his eyes good-naturedly and got up to get some air at the entrance of their alleyway. He leaned against the wall and took in a deep breath, the cool Minnesota air stinging his nose and making him pull his leather jacket tighter around him.

At twenty-two, he was one of the youngest and more thoughtful of the gang. There were only seven of them between the ages of twenty and twenty-five, but most were smoking grease-monkeys without a brain in their head to keep them from beating up people for no reason. Honestly, he was only accepted into the gang because he had money and bought his friends cigarettes and Cokes and snacks. He probably SHOULD be a "soc", and he was for a while, but he didn't like that title as much as "grease". Eventually he earned the gang's respect by being amazing at playing cards, so they kept him around.

He looked at the poster stapled to the electric pole before him. It had a picture of an evil looking girl with blood all over her face, her jaws open in a demonic and fangy roar. WATCH OUT FOR VAMPIRES!

James couldn't help but be afraid by the mere idea of vampires. They were completely scientifically impossible, yet there was evidence that they existed. Vampire fangs could be bought at the stores of Weston, Minnesota, pried from vampires who were killed.

His friend told him that his dad was in the hunting business, and vampires were getting killed left and right for what they were. Anyone detected as a vampire could be beaten and killed on the streets without question. He didn't think that was logical- if they just TOLD the vampires not to kill people, there would be no problem! More people were getting killed as they attempted to beat these invincible monsters than what would be killed if the vampires could feed freely.

These creatures- they looked just like humans, yet they were so powerful. Human hands couldn't do jack shit to these things, and they could only be killed by a wooden stake to the heart. They had glimmering fangs and a force that made humans want to run. James was completely and utterly mortified by the thought of these things, but he would never share those feelings with his friends.

James stared at the poster absently as he leaned against the building. A guy walked past, wearing simply dark jeans and a black t-shirt. James didn't notice the guy's eyes snag on James, making him stop and whirl around. No, it wasn't until the guy was standing before him, staring at him, that he noticed. The man… He was breathtaking. His black hair was neatly kept and gelled, his clothes very neat, his posture straight.

"Beat it," James hissed, not wanting the gang to notice the handsome guy and come and beat him up or something. "Get outta here!"

XxXx

Logan couldn't believe the resemblance. It had been roughly fifty years since Delilah had broken his heart and gotten killed, but he would never forget her face, her voice, her kiss, or her personality. He had been told by other vampires that one never forgets their makers.

This boy, standing there against the wall, had Delilah's nose, her lips, her lashes, and most of all, her hazel eyes. He didn't mean to do it, but he had to stop and stare. The boy was a good four inches taller and he imagined he was very muscular beneath that leather jacket. He was breathtakingly beautiful and smelled like a child- with beautifully pure blood, which was hard to find in that day and age.

He couldn't believe this. After all these years, he was finally coming back to visit Weston and he finds this boy.

"Beat it. Get outta here!" the boy hissed, sneaking a look into the alley at the boys in it.

Logan couldn't find words as his eyes met this boy's. They were the exact color of Delilah's, and Logan found that he couldn't breathe.

"What're you staring at? LEAVE!"

The boy wasn't saying all this to be rude- Logan could tell he was saying it because he was afraid that his friends would notice Logan there and try to hurt him.

"I'm sorry- you just… You look like a friend I had," Logan said, snapping out of his trance. He didn't want the boy to see that he was vampire- what if he was one of those who would try to kill him?

The boy was silent, just staring at Logan, waiting for him to go. Logan had to observe the way this boy's eyes were much softer and gentler than Delilah's were. He wanted to stare at this person forever.

"Just go. Before-" the boy whispered, but suddenly there was a "HEY!" from the alley and the boy's eyes squeezed shut in anguish.

The gang of boys showed up one by one at the end of the alley, the one that seemed to be the leader stepping up to the front.

"I'm sorry," the boy whispered behind the leader, although the boy was taller.

"Beat it! What're you, a FAG?" a boy toward the back called.

Logan wasn't afraid- he could easily take these boys if it turned physical.

"I wasn't doing anything wrong. We were just talking," Logan said boredly.

Suddenly the leader took out a switchblade.

"What are you going to do? STAB me?" Logan smirked.

"If you don't get outta here. My boy here isn't gay, and he's not interested."

"Dak- he's okay," the boy said quietly, but the leader didn't move as the rest of the gang got out their own knives.

Logan normally would have just apologized and left. Honestly, though, he wanted to talk to this boy- this male version of Delilah- and if he left, he wouldn't be able to.

"We don't take too kindly to gays around here," Dak growled.

"Funny- I never said I was gay," Logan said simply. "But tell you what. If you're so against me, why don't you stab me a little and let me be. I'd love to talk to that young man."

"Young man?" the leader smirked. "You're younger than him!"

"Correction. I'm approximately 71 years old," Logan said. "Unless he's older than that?"

"Dak-" one of the boys whispered, lowering his knife. "He's a vampire. I don't fuck with those."

Logan saw that Delilah's male double behind the leader had terror in his hazel eyes and was cowering behind the leader now. Why were they so afraid? Logan was quite possibly the kindest and most ethical vampire they could ever meet. He only fed when the victim was asleep, and if not he PUT them to sleep. He didn't bite. He left everything as it was before he got somewhere. He was polite.

The leader didn't hesitate to easily land the switchblade into Logan's stomach, though. Black liquid oozed through the wound as the knife was removed and the gang's eyes widened. Logan just smirked and rolled his eyes.

"Oh God," one of them whispered in horror.

"I don't want to hurt you," Logan said simply. "But I AM kind of hungry."

Some of the boys slipped past Logan, so only the original boy, the leader, and two others stood before him. Logan decided to "bring it home" with a menacing lurch forward, which the panicked leader reacted to with another stab. Logan smirked and took the knife from his stomach, staring at the leader evilly, sending him and the rest running.

Logan sighed and wiped the knife on his shirt. He knew that the original boy had run into the alley in the midst of his panic, and while he didn't want to corner the boy and scare him, he wanted to go talk to him. Over his years, he knew all the human fears and exactly how to avoid them. He hated scaring his victims. Not that he was going to victimize this boy.

"I'm coming down the alley- I won't hurt you," he called into the darkness.

"Stay back!"

Logan dropped the knife on the concrete and started slowly down the alley.

"I don't have my blade! STAY BACK!" the boy called frantically.

"I won't hurt you!" Logan repeated. He cut through the lingering smoke, seeing in the darkness what the boy could not in the setting sun. The boy was pressed against the back wall, eyes wide, looking about ready to faint.

Logan stopped about five feet from the boy, hands up in innocent surrender.

"I haven't killed a person in fifty years," he said gently. "I won't start now."

"What do you want? Money? I have money," the boy squeaked, making to get out his wallet.

"I don't need money- I have plenty."

"Then WHAT?" the boy screamed, shrinking down the wall, looking ready to die of fright.

"I just want to know your name," Logan said quietly. The boy looked up at him, seemingly bewildered.

"Are you serious?"

"Yes. Tell me your name and I will leave you be."

The boy hesitated before answering.

"J-James," he squeaked.

"James what?"

"James Dylan."

"Dylan is your last name?"

"NO, Dylan isn't my last name," James retorted.

"Then what?"

"Diamond is my last name."

Logan's heart seemed to stop. There was no way this boy could look so much like Delilah and share her last name and NOT be a descendant. He knew the girl was a horrible person when she was alive, but he couldn't help but miss her when he saw this boy.

"Why?" James demanded, standing up straight and relaxed.

"I suppose I should leave now," Logan said. He didn't want to leave- he wanted to look at this boy forever. However, James was terrified, and probably wanted nothing to do with him. His fear was proven wrong as soon as he turned to leave.

"Well what's YOUR name?" James asked. Logan froze, completely confused, but he turned.

"Logan. Logan Mitchell," he answered.

"I- I did a research project on your family once in high school for a local history project. I live in your house," James laughed sheepishly. "The Mitchells were rich snitches, right? And there were two sons, but one was found dead in the…" James' voice trailed off as he realized the truth. "You killed your brother?"

"I didn't. My maker did. I had to drink from him to become a vampire," Logan said. "What else do you know about my family?"

"Nothing, other than you had a lot of money. And one son was found dead in the older son's bedroom, and the older son went missing. Do you know that you have a tombstone in the old graveyard? I guess they thought you were dead."

Logan nodded thoughtfully and took note that he should check that out later.

"Look… It's not safe for vampires to be here," James said lowly. "And my pals- they might have gone to find someone to kill you."

"Damn," Logan sighed in realization.

"Just… Come to my house. I dunno if you guys sleep or not, but it'll be safe there until you can leave," James offered.

"I'll be fine."

"Don't you want to come see your house?"

Logan hesitated and sighed.

"Your parents are okay?" Logan asked.

"Okay enough," James shrugged and nodded. "But if you try to eat us-"

"I won't. I'm not even hungry."

James found something he could trust in those black eyes. It was rare for him- he barely trusted his own parents. But somehow, this stranger had gained what nobody else got- James' acceptance and trust.

"Well… We should hurry," he said.