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Rated M for language, sexuality, graphic violence.

"In ghastly torment sick; Within his ribs bloated round, A craving Hungry Cavern; Thence arose his channeld Throat, And like a red flame a Tongue Of thirst & of hunger appeard."

- William Blake, "The First Book of Urizen," Chapter IV [b], 11

Chapter 5 – Like A Red Flame

JPOV

I waited for hours before returning to Maria. I wanted to give Peter and Charlotte as much time as possible to put distance between us. While I waited, I went over the possible outcomes in my mind. I was not sure if Maria would follow and track them, but she very well could. I also knew that I had likely signed my own death warrant by allowing them to escape. It wouldn't be today, of that I was almost certain. Maria had six newly turned vampires to work with, and I was a veteran of decades of warfare. She was a skilled fighter, a ruthless adversary, but she was no match for me. No, she'd bide her time and allow me to continue to build and train her new army. Then once I had turned them into skilled assassins, a force of power and destruction, she would turn the weapon I helped to create back on me. I almost felt a sense of relief as I contemplated my future.

I was full of anger towards Maria, and if I examined my feelings more closely, I might have even found that I hated her. She must have known Peter and Charlotte had mated. She said herself she was fully aware of his motivations, yet she ordered Charlotte's death anyway. I still wasn't quite sure why.

She had to have known Peter would fight to defend Charlotte; a vampire would do anything to protect his mate. She had to have known she was forcing me into a situation where I would have to destroy my closest friend in order to comply with her command. My only friend when it came down to it. My relationship with Maria was layered and complex, but I wouldn't call us friends.

I knew she was jealous; I had felt it. When I first saw Peter and Charlotte together, I assumed Maria's jealousy was because Peter preferred another female to her. That, however, didn't seem reason enough for Maria's actions. Was it possible her jealousy had a deeper source? I knew she disliked it when I showed any preference for Peter, but could she really be so small minded as to destroy him over simple jealousy? It was chilling to contemplate. I eventually rejected this line of thought. Her passions ran deep, but she was thoughtful and intelligent, a military strategist more than anything.

Peter had proved time and again how valuable he was as a soldier, how skilled he was at managing the newborns. Why would she create a situation where Peter's death was an almost certainty? Was it that he had mated in the first place, that his attachment to Charlotte could interfere with his decisions during battle? Again, I found this answer to be dissatisfying. I had fought closely with Peter and his mating had completely escaped my notice.

The only answer that made any sense at all was that she was testing my loyalty.

A test I had obviously failed.

Yet, she must have been somewhat sure of me; if I no longer had any loyalty towards her, what would prevent me from turning around and destroying her?

Yes, that was the question.

I played with the thought in my mind, examining it, trying it on for size. In my current state of my mind, the idea had its appeal. But what good would retaliating in anger do? If I destroyed Maria, I really would have nothing. I may have lost faith in her in many ways, but we had been together for decades. I had worshipped her, followed her, pleasured her, and now I perhaps hated her. But I was a soldier; she was my leader. I would stay and fight.

It was all I knew.

Finally, I decided I could not put off the moment any longer. I went to find Maria.

She faced me warily. I could tell by the tenseness in her bearing she was not certain what had transpired.

"It is done?" she asked.

"For the most part," I replied. "Peter and Charlotte have run." I could have lied. I could have let her think they were nothing but ash, like the rest of the soldiers.

I felt a tinge of surprise, sharp disappointment and her sudden intense anger, but her expression didn't change. "And do you intend to go after them?" she asked me.

"I do not," I answered, calmly and quietly.

Her fury was escalating. I suddenly was not sure if she might not attack me today after all.

"So it is your intention to disobey my orders and not only let the female live past her usefulness, but let a traitor escape with impunity?" Her tone of voice was hard and rigid.

Yes, those were exactly my intentions, but I chose to answer indirectly. "They were mated, Maria. You were asking me to kill Peter. I cannot do that."

"Cannot or will not?" she demanded, her voice rising.

"It matters not," I answered, my own voice becoming heated in return. "Peter is my friend. He was a loyal soldier to you. You should never have asked me to kill his mate. You left him no choice!"

"He may have had no choice, but you did, Jasper."

Ah, now we were at the crux of things.

She was moving now, cautiously, assessing whether I planned to attack. "Sometimes we have to make the hard choices."

Her voice was passionate. "Do you think it was easy for me to kill Lucy and Nettie? Do you? I loved them! They were like sisters to me. But they would have turned against me. I could feel it. It broke my heart, but we were at war. Sometimes sacrifices must be made."

She stilled and looked at me appraisingly, "Are you against me now too?"

"No," I stated simply.

"If I choose to follow the traitor and his mate, is it your intention to stop me?" she asked.

"No," I repeated. "But know this, Maria. Peter would not have turned against you. Nor would I. I will follow you into battle. I will train your soldiers. I will re-build your army. But if you insist on tracking them, if you destroy him, I will not forgive you."

Our gazes locked, each of us weighing our choices. I understood that Maria had sought to regain the control over me that had slowly eroded away; she wanted proof of my loyalty and I had been unable to give it to her. She may have been willing to sacrifice Peter, but I was not. I had let her know that I was still her soldier to command, but on my own terms. It was up to her whether she could relinquish control enough to take what I offered.

I wasn't sure she could; however, I was sure she would try, or if necessary pretend, at least until her soldiers were at full fighting capacity. She still needed me.

Her voice and demeanor relaxed, but I could still feel the fury raging just below the surface. I could practically hear the calculations being done in her head. "I will let the traitor and his mate live," she announced. "I will not track them. Let us put this incident behind us and concentrate on training our new soldiers."

"As you wish," I acknowledged, and left the room before I changed my own mind and shredded her to pieces where she stood.

#####

For the next few months, my time was consumed with training the new soldiers. Maria and I stayed largely out of each other's way. The tension and hostility between us was palpable. I could feel her resentment as she watched me during a one on one skirmish with one of the newborns, knowing she was wishing her forces were battle ready and she wasn't so dependent on my skills.

Although being in such prolonged proximity to so many newborns wore on me – they were extremely emotional and volatile, I welcomed the distraction. The exhausting training we were doing, day after day of drills and fighting then trying to keep the peace in between times kept me from thinking about Peter and Charlotte. When he stood before me, trembling with turmoil, ready to protect his mate, their all encompassing love had crept through my defenses. It seeped through every microscopic crack, like a delicious fragrance through closed doors, relentless and unyielding, unable to be repelled, until it permeated deep into my very being.

My forgotten longings had awoken within me and I wanted to weep as their poignant beauty taunted me with what I could never have.

And once they had awakened, it was impossible to bury them again as I had in the past. In rare quiet moments, they would silently rise to the surface, almost unnoticed until I was overtaken with such a feeling of emptiness I could barely function.

At times such as those, I almost wished we were once again engaged in active warfare so I could lose myself in battle, unleash my frustrations and sorrow on our enemies, feel their piercing teeth on my skin and let the pain consume me.

The time for fighting would come soon enough. We were slowly building back our numbers. In addition to the six newborns Maria had initially turned, we now had an additional eight vampires. I had accompanied her on several trips to assess potential recruits. She was very selective, having discovered that taking more time to choose our soldiers initially meant less time getting them in fighting condition later. Maria preferred young strong officers with intelligence and wit, or sturdy soldiers with stout hearts and strong senses of loyalty. My gift was useful for eliminating weaker willed soldiers, the timid and fearful, the boastful and aggressive.

I had grown to dread these excursions. We would travel for days, Maria and I. Forced to endure each other's company, we were miserable companions, she with the ever-present undercurrent of anger, and I with my ever-growing feelings of melancholy. We had little to say to one another beyond our discussions about whom to turn and add to our ranks.

I studied her as we ran, her long dark hair billowing behind her, the tresses shining in the moonlight, silken strands of midnight. Her face was as beautiful as the day I had first laid eyes on her, an angel's visage, stunning and breathtaking. She moved with a grace and agility that was mesmerizing. It was no wonder I had been nearly immobilized when I first encountered her.

I was still in awe of her in many ways. Not only of her captivating beauty, but her drive, her sense of purpose. The ruthlessness she employed to achieve her goals was impressive and awe-inspiring. I envied her impassioned will to reach her mark. There was no hesitation, no second guessing. She never faltered, never strayed from her path. She saw into the future with clarity of mind, her objectives always straight before her. She would do anything it took to reach them.

I, on the other hand, was adrift. I had once held tightly to Maria's visions, giving myself over to them completely. But the visions no longer held meaning for me. In their place I was left with nothing. No purpose, no meaning… I was empty. Endless days stretched before me, a hollow eternity of struggle and pain. I dreaded these missions, not only for effects of the emotions Maria tried unsuccessfully to hide, but because of the stretches of time I was left to dwell on my own morose thoughts, my unbearable loneliness.

I missed Peter. Even though I had pushed him away, his mere presence had been a comfort. I missed the camaraderie as we worked side by side, training our soldiers. I missed his easy laugh, his smiling eyes. Even as I sank further and further into my melancholic moods, just knowing he was there had been a balm. Now with Maria and I estranged, and Peter gone, I had no one who could ease the ache of solitude.

Finding and turning the soldiers proved to be even more painful than our tense travels. Once we had our targets selected, we would lure them away from their company, so their screams wouldn't raise an alarm. Once I sank my teeth into my victim's neck, all thoughts of building our army would leave my head.

I reveled in the bliss of the warm blood gushing down my throat, the exquisite aroma and taste making my senses soar. My body thrilled with rapturous pleasure. The human's emotions would buffet me with waves of fear and anger, a tumult of confusion and pain that would only heighten my own aroused state. I felt strong and powerful, every cell of my body teeming with awareness as I drained his blood, absorbing his essence into my own.

It was as if in that moment only, I could feel truly alive.

As my victim's struggles lessened and his life ebbed away, I would recall my intended goal. More times than not, it was too late. Only occasionally would I be able to pull back soon enough to allow the change to occur. After decades it still maddened me that I was unable to control my bloodlust.

As I emerged from my trancelike state, in thrall from the taste of blood, I would be repulsed by my very nature. Disgusted at my aroused body, revolted at the memory of how my body pulsed with energy as my victim's life drained away, filled with self loathing at my powerlessness to rein the monster in.

Then I would have to endure Maria's contempt at my inability to complete our simple mission, her anger and frustration, her flashes of malice. I was a disappointment to her and she didn't hesitate to let me know it. Gone were the days when she tried to shield her feelings entirely from me.

I made up for my transgressions by keeping watch over our new recruits during their change, sparing Maria from the task. Their burning agony would wash over me, anointing me with their pain, filling my emptiness with their suffering. Their anguish consumed my mind, driving out all but their blazing affliction, leaving no room for my own tormented thoughts. For days I would sit with them, watching their bodies writhe in agony, feeling the scorching lashes as the flames whipped through them, their burning flesh a scourge against my troubled mind.

As I used to lose myself in the pleasures of the flesh, now I disappeared into a conflagration of pain.

Soon enough our soldiers were battle ready and our enemies had recovered from their previous losses. I relished the return to fighting, closing my mind to all but the current conflict. Raging against those who sought to defeat us, I would loose the monster within.

As before, I was a formidable enemy. No one could withstand my lethal assault; annihilation followed inevitably in my wake. I was reckless and fearless, awesome and terrible. I incited my opponents, taking unnecessary risks. I threw myself into melees where I was vastly outnumbered. I taunted death, goading it to take me down. But still I stood, an invincible demon of night. A terrifying nightmare of fury and destruction.

When the fighting was over, I was assaulted by the arousals of our victorious soldiers. Their feral couplings were immediate and raw, staggering in their intensity. I'd find myself running again, coming down from my battle high and overwhelmed by the urge to flee. Yet no matter how fast or how far I ran, I could not escape the emptiness that consumed me.

Time passed. Our war waged on. When we were between battles, I began to withdraw from everyone. I no longer trained the soldiers or used my gift to control them; I left their management to Maria. It had been several years now since Peter had left, and each one was more difficult than the last. I tried not to think about the endless stretch of years laid out before me, but as an immortal, I had infinite moments to ponder the boundless road of time. Thinking about the future only served to depress me further. I bemoaned the curse of my eternal life.

Maria no longer took any care to conceal her emotions from me. She had long since given up trying to understand my deteriorating state of mind. The fear and distrust I had previously felt from her had given way to outright malice and hatred. That she planned to destroy me was a certainty.

I welcomed the idea.

I expected it to happen soon. Maria was off on another recruiting mission, accompanied by several of her stronger soldiers. I was in my room, sitting on the floor, my back against the wall. My arms rested on my bent knees and my head hung low between them. I had been there for days, trapped in my black thoughts.

I heard movement in the next room and was flooded with a sense of relief. It would soon be over. The escape I had craved for so long was here at last. I knew that the minute I was attacked, my instincts would take over and I would fight until I was overpowered. I trusted Maria to be thorough and prepared.

It was time.

The door swung open and I heard footsteps enter the room. I kept my head bent low. The thought of my imminent death left me feeling almost peaceful for the first time in decades. My shoulders relaxed and I slowly raised my head to view the instrument of my deliverance.

I blinked in confusion as I met a familiar pair of warm shining eyes.

"Peter?"

Then he was kneeling on the floor in front of me, his arms wrapping around my shoulders, pulling me into his embrace. I could feel his shock and concern at the state he found me in, but underneath it all, there was a strong current of love. I recognized it for what it was this time, even though I didn't deserve to be at the receiving end of such a gift.

"Jasper," he whispered into my hair, and I felt his lips on the top of my head.

I clutched him to me, burying my face in his neck as my body shuddered and wracking sobs tore through me. The affectionate nature of his touch was so foreign to me, so devastating in its tenderness that I felt I might shatter. It had been so long since I had been touched with anything other than hatred or pain.

He held me close, rocking me gently, murmuring words of comfort in my ear. He rubbed my back as I tried to gain control of myself. "Shhh," he whispered. "Shhh. Everything will be all right. Shhh." I could only tremble as I fell apart in his arms.

When I was finally able to speak, I looked up at him and asked, "What are you doing here, Peter? It's too dangerous for you to be here." He was so beautiful, still.

He took my hands in his own and squeezed them gently as he looked me in the eyes.

"I'm here for you, Jasper. I came back for you."

#####

It had been weeks since Peter returned for me. He had told me of another life, one free of conflict and strife. In the north vampires did not live as those in the south. There was no war, no territory to defend. They stayed out of each other's way and coexisted peacefully. He and Charlotte had been traveling together for over five years and had yet to engage in even a single fight.

One conversation was all it took to convince me and I left with him without a backward glance.

Charlotte had remained in the north while Peter had come to find me. They thought it would be more dangerous to enter Maria's territory together. As we traveled, we spoke little. Peter would eye me appraisingly, and I could feel his ongoing concern, but he didn't pry, letting me set the pace of any conversation. I was content to simply be in his presence.

As we neared their current home, I could feel Peter's anxiousness and his eager anticipation. His eyes lit up and that ready smile danced across his lips. When Charlotte opened the door, rushing to greet him, I could feel their love radiating outward. As it had the day they stood before me preparing to die, their love seeped into every fiber of my being, causing a habitual ache deep inside me. I wanted to weep at its beauty. Again I felt that familiar urge to run. I resisted, tamping it down, staying rooted as Charlotte approached me after greeting her lover with a passionate kiss.

This was the first time I had really looked at her, although I had trained her and fought with her for over a year. She was straight and slim, with soft brown curls around her face. She glowed with happiness. Her eyes held that same warmth that Peter's always had and her full lips were curved into a smile. It put me at ease. She reached out and took my hands in hers. I flinched at her touch.

"Jasper, welcome to our home. I am forever in your debt for what you did for us that day. I cannot thank you enough. I want you to know you will always have a place with us. You will always be welcome." Then she removed her hands to slip her arms around my waist, squeezing me in a hug. She reached up on her toes to place a soft kiss against my cheek. "Always," she whispered. I froze in surprise, still unaccustomed to affectionate gestures.

Peter noticed my discomfort and pulled Charlotte away from me, wrapping her in his arms, her back against his chest. He smiled at me, that gentle smile I remembered so well. I couldn't stand the feelings that were coursing through me. It was too much after all the time I had spent alone, all the years I had spent mired in hatred. Each touch was like a burning lash against my skin, each smile a stabbing wound to my heart. The blazing glory of their love only emphasized the cold emptiness within me.

I needed to get away, needed some time alone, time to regroup, to pull myself together.

"Thank you for the welcome, Charlotte. I am glad to be here," I said, smiling at her. "You two were apart for quite some time because of me. Let me take my leave of you and give you some privacy to reconnect with one another."

I nodded at Peter and he smiled sadly in understanding. Then, before I broke down completely, I turned and hurried out into the darkness.

That first night was the hardest, although I still found it difficult to be around such joy. They tried to be considerate in my presence, sensing that their affection caused me discomfort, but they couldn't stop their shy glances, from stealing small touches whenever they were near one another. Their inhibited behavior filled me with guilt.

Peter eventually confronted me. I had tried to hide the extent of my misery, but he was always too perceptive.

"Jasper," he said. "I can't stand to see you so tormented. If I had known how bad it had gotten for you, I would have returned sooner. I just didn't know." He looked upset.

Again I felt a stab of guilt. It was enough that I had to suffer; Peter shouldn't have to experience any distress because of my moodiness too. I thought perhaps I should leave. Let them have their happiness without the constraint of my pain.

"Can you talk to me?" he asked. "Can you let me in? Give me the opportunity to try and help you."

I sighed heavily, looking off into the distance.

"You have helped me, Peter. You brought me here, away from the wars, away from the fighting. I never would have known such a life was possible."

"Jasper, please," he entreated. "I haven't pushed. But you have to know what a shock it was to see you in Mexico. You looked like you had given up, like you were just waiting to… to die." His voice had trailed off into a whisper and I heard it break at the end. I couldn't look at him.

"It's been weeks," he continued after a moment, "And you're still so… sad. I thought once you had some time away from Maria, away from our old life, you would begin to come back to me. Jasper, tell me what I can do. Talk to me. Please."

I turned to look at him. His eyes were sad and so full of the love I felt from him that I almost couldn't hold his gaze. I was a monster, hideous and unworthy. Nothing but a killer, a bearer of death. How could he care about me? I did not deserve his affections.

In his uncanny way, Peter seemed to know what I was thinking. "You do deserve my love, Jasper. You deserve love. You deserve happiness. You deserve it all. You gave me my life back. I love Charlotte more than I could ever imagine and you gave her back to me when I thought all was lost."

He moved closer to me, putting his hand on the back of my neck, leaning forward to press his forehead against mine. "I love Charlotte with all my heart," he said softly. "But I loved you first," then he pressed his lips against mine in a chaste kiss.

"I always will."

I closed my eyes feeling the truth of his words. They settled over me like a blanket of sorrow.

"I never stopped thinking about you," he continued. "Never stopped worrying, or wondering. Charlotte finally convinced me I needed to find you and bring you back."

He pulled back from me, studying my face. "And here you are. But you're not really here, are you? What happened Jasper? Tell me. What can I do?"

I paused for a long moment, not sure how to answer him. I didn't really understand it myself. I only knew I was empty, and lost, and I hated myself.

"I don't know, Peter," I finally said. "I'm tired, and empty. And I try to be happy, but I just ache inside. I don't know how to fix it." I answered him truthfully.

"I think maybe I should go off on my own and leave you two…"

"No!" He interrupted me, his voice ringing out as he grabbed my arm. He composed himself and spoke again in a more even tone, "No, Jasper. Please stay. At least for a while. Give it some time." He looked up at me imploringly. "I'm not ready to lose you again."

And when he looked at me like that, how could I deny him?

We settled in to a life together, Charlotte, Peter and I. They were devoted mates and I took comfort in Charlotte's ardent love for him, a sentiment he wholeheartedly returned. She had given him what I could not and he projected a contentment that was gratifying to observe. She had held true to her pledge to me, that I would always be welcome in their lives. I never once felt that they'd prefer to be alone, without a brooding, moody vampire third wheel. Charlotte seemed to hold no jealousy over the fact that Peter and I had once been lovers. Indeed, she seemed to take pleasure in Peter's obvious affection for me. He was happy I was here; therefore, she was happy as well.

I loved them both, as much as I was able, in my own broken, pitiful way.

As the days and months and years wore on I could feel Peter's puzzlement and growing sadness and worry at my continued depression. His affection never wavered and I knew he wished he could somehow pull me out of despondent state. I didn't understand it myself. Life in the north was peaceful. My days were no longer filled with warfare and fighting and constant death. Yet I was as full of self loathing as ever, as empty and hollow as the day I left Mexico.

One day after we returned from a hunt, Peter remarked to me, "It's always worse after, isn't it?"

I didn't understand what he was referring to. "After what?" I asked.

"After hunting," he clarified. "Your depression. It gets worse after we hunt."

I thought about it for a few moments. Hunting had always been a mixture of pleasure and pain for me—the exquisite taste of blood commingled with the chaotic emotions of my prey. The rapturous bliss juxtaposed with the monstrous self loathing.

"You experience their deaths with them, don't you?" Peter asked me.

"Yes," I replied, "It's always been that way." I recalled the eyes of the angry soldier I had first feasted upon as a newborn, eyes that haunted me with each new victim I chose. Even decades later, I could hear the crunch of his bones, his anguished screams as if it were yesterday. I had accepted long ago that this was a cross I must bear. What choice did I have?

Peter's query had me analyzing each hunt, as if I could finally unravel the mystery of my prolonged depression. Although I had escaped from the violence of war, I had not escaped an eternity of killing. I doubted true peace would ever be mine.

I realized that I would never find solace here, even amongst friends. It would be better if I went off alone. Peter and Charlotte deserved some freedom from my dour moods. Although Peter had stopped me once before when I suggested I leave, I was determined that this time the outcome would be different. He had pulled me from the brink of the abyss years ago, but I felt myself slipping further and further towards that edge. I saw my future stretching before me. I would grow more and more despondent, as I had in Mexico, and eventually I would revert to an almost catatonic state. I didn't want Peter to have to witness that, to suffer as I knew he would, helpless to stay my slow descent into darkness.

Peter approached me before I could bring up my departure to him.

"You're leaving, aren't you?" he asked accusingly. His eyes were sad and full of grief. I could barely stand to look at them.

"Yes," I answered softly. I pulled Peter into an embrace, holding his strong body tightly to my chest. I buried my face in his neck, breathing in his scent. I would miss him.

"I'm grateful to you and Charlotte. I truly am. But I can't stay. I'll only grow worse over time. Something needs to change. If I leave, maybe I'll someday find a new path. A way that offers me peace." I lied, knowing there was no hope for me.

Peter grabbed on to the suggestion immediately. "That's all I want for you, Jasper. I wish I could take all your pain away. I wish I could give you peace."

"You've already given me so much, Peter. You and Charlotte both," I assured him.

He pulled back from my embrace and stared at me intently.

"Promise me something, Jasper. Will you do that?" he asked seriously.

"What is it?" I enquired.

"You must promise me. Promise me that you will not go seeking death. I won't be able to let you go if I think you're just running away to die somewhere alone." As he spoke his voice dropped to an anguished whisper.

"You must promise me," he repeated urgently.

I pondered his question for a moment. Could I do that for him? Could I make that promise? I felt his agony the minute I hesitated in answering his question. Crushing guilt weighted me down. I had already caused him so much pain; I couldn't cause him more. I knew I would agree to his request no matter what it might cost me later.

"I promise, Peter," I told him earnestly. "I promise."

Relief washed over him immediately and I took comfort that I could at least give him this. He pulled me back to him, wrapping his arms around me, holding me close. "Thank you, Jasper," he murmured. I just held him tightly, memorizing the feel of his body, the smell of his skin. I didn't know if I would ever see him again.

I slipped out during the night without saying goodbye. I wasn't sure I would be able to bear feeling their sadness, or their love. Especially their love. I could barely tolerate my own emotions.

I wandered alone for decades, a specter of pain, a wraith of the night. Occasionally I would come across another vampire, but when they saw my battle scarred form, my haunted visage, they reacted with fear and steered clear of me.

As I predicted, my depression continued to worsen over time. Peter's observation about my hunting had proved to be all too accurate. When I fed, I'd be brought back to the night outside of Galveston, back to when I was a young Confederate soldier, strong and able, idealistic and proud. As my victims took in my otherworldly face, my inhuman beauty, I could see my own awe as I first stared at Maria reflected back in their eyes. As their life drained, filling me with their warmth, their spark, I was temporarily able to forget my miserable existence, forget that I was a hideous monster, a soulless demon, a nightmare of terror, wandering the earth for all eternity.

But of course the forgetting was fleeting and the memories of countless agonized eyes, angry and afraid remained, tormenting me with the reminder of my evil nature. No matter how far I traveled, how long I wandered, I could not escape from myself.

In desperation I attempted to go without feeding. As the weeks passed, the burning in my throat increased, tormenting me with thirst. I grew weak and confused. I sat on the edge of a river beneath a willow tree, its long arms surrounding me, cradling me in its embrace. I was hidden from view within the cave of its branches. I don't know how much time had passed, the days and nights running into one another as the sun rose and set over and over and over again. My mind wandered, my daydreams and reality blending together until I couldn't tell one from the other.

I saw two boys on the edge of a riverbank, their horses tied to a tree nearby. They were laughing as they threw their strings into the water, enticing the catfish in the mud below to sample their tasty lures.

One let out a loud whoop of excitement and started pulling his line in, reaching hand over hand, his arms straining until a large fish emerged through the surface, its body thrashing violently in the water.

"Look at the size of it, Jasper!" the boy called out in an animated voice. "I think it's the biggest one I've ever seen!"

"Nice catch, little brother," the other boy replied as he moved to help haul the enormous fish in. "I know what's for dinner tonight!"

As I sat and watched the scene play out before me, the wind shifted and my body seized in a burning agony as a delicious scent wafted by. Instinctively, my body curled into a defensive crouch.

I crept from my hiding place beneath the willow and looked out from between its branches. Two boys were by the water, laughing and playing. I shook my head in confusion. They were smaller than they appeared just a few minutes ago. Instead of blonde curls, their heads were topped with straight sandy brown hair. I heard a splash, but instead of seeing the struggling catfish, I saw a large stone being thrown into the water.

Then the wind blew again, sending the irresistible aroma to me once more. Crazed with hunger, I leapt at one of the boys, savagely sinking my teeth into his neck and slaking my burning thirst with his glorious blood.

The other boy screamed in terror, leaping on my back and circling his arms around my neck, futilely trying to pull me from my meal. I threw down the lifeless body of the first and turned on my attacker, draining him dry in minutes.

I dropped his body when I was finished and stood there panting, my body singing in relief as their blood coursed through me. Then I looked down at their broken, lifeless forms, which moments ago had been laughing and playing at river's edge.

They were so small. Their arms so thin. They were just boys. Children.

What had I done?

I fell to my knees, leaning over into the grass as my body seized in horror, expelling the blood from my stomach onto the ground.

I don't know how long I knelt there. I was numb. Frozen. I felt moisture on my face and realized it had started to rain. The burning ache in my throat consumed all thought, having been teased with relief then thwarted only moments later.

I watched the precipitation fall from the sky, washing the blood off the blades of grass around me. I panicked seeing it rinse away and my hunger took over. Like an animal, lost to reason, I frantically rubbed my hands through the grass, coating my fingers with the boys' spilled blood. I brought my fingers to my mouth and licked them ravenously. Again and again I scooped up every last drop I could find, desperate and starving and savage and wild.

When the rain had washed the last of the blood away, I collapsed on the ground. I lay there, watching the willow weep as her branches swayed in the wind, dipping into the river as if to wash its fingers in the water below.

Mine could never come clean.

After that day by the river I never again went so long between meals. I learned how far I could push myself, how hungry I could allow myself to get without my mind going cloudy and my starved body overwhelming all rational thought.

I sank further and further into despair, once again lamenting the promise I had made to Peter so many decades ago. I longed to run south, back to a place of war, a place of death. I longed to lose myself in pain, feel my limbs ripped from my body and burn on a towering pyre. I longed for nothingness.

My loneliness grew unbearable. I'd find myself lingering closer to towns, desperate to be in contact with other beings, even if it was just to watch them from afar. I began to venture out during daytime, when clouds were in the sky, to indulge in little interactions. I would buy a newspaper or a cup of coffee in a diner, never drinking it, but reveling in the sound of the waitress' voice addressing me, the brief touch of her hand as I reached out to pay. I didn't deserve such moments of pleasure, but I took them anyway.

I was in Philadelphia making my way to a diner I had seen advertised. It was raining, so I could avoid being seen in sunlight. I hadn't eaten in some time and my eyes were black as night. I found it hard to be amongst humans when I was so hungry, but it was the only time my eyes were dark enough to not cause alarm. As I entered the diner, I smelled her immediately. A vampire sat at the counter, her back to the door. She was tiny with short black hair. I immediately tensed, unsure what to do.

She turned to me and smiled. I was taken aback. I was used to others of my kind fearing me, my violent past apparent from the myriad of scars I wore. Instead of fear, she radiated happiness and excitement.

I watched her jump off the stool and walk towards me her hand extended. I was frozen in place, mesmerized by her unusual eyes. They weren't red or even black, but a rich golden color. Beautiful. I had never seen anything like them.

She stopped in front of me and spoke. "You've kept me waiting a long time, Major Whitlock," she said with a smile. She looked at me like we were old friends.

I was brought back to another lifetime, when a dark haired beauty stood on the road to Galveston, a hand outstretched for mine. And like that time before, my southern manners still ingrained after all these years, I reached for her hand, taking it in mine, saying, "I'm sorry, Ma'am."

And for the first time in almost a century, I felt hope.

AN: Thanks, as always, for your reviews and alerts. Thanks also to OnTheTurningAway for not only making my story better, but for sharing her porn collection when I was sick. Now that's a true friend.

I'd also like to thank mybigteddybearemmett for starting a thread for my story on the Twilighted forums. You can find it here: http://www(dot)twilighted(dot)net/forum/viewtopic(dot)php?f=33&t=8995

Exciting news! My little story was nominated for a Slash Award under the Best Vamp category! Thank you so much to everyone who nominated me. I'm just thrilled! Voting is open until March 21st at http://theslashawards(dot)blogspot(dot)com/.