I could feel it begin to burn and I recoiled against Romero with a whimper. "Apollo stings," I hissed out.

"It's in your head," the grave guardian murmured, "which for you really isn't that surprising I suppose. Look you're not a vampire anymore crazy cat and that's going to take a lot of getting used to. Now come on," he pushed me from his chest gently but firmly, turning my head back to lightening sky with one hand, "and take a look at what you've been missing."

It was beautiful and yet terrible, the sky was a splash of colours I had forgotten, it was horribly bright and made my eyes sting and water. Pink, lilac, pale blue and a soft, light gold blooming at the bottom replacing the eternal inky black and purple sapphire I had long grown used to. When the white rays stretched up pulling their heavy golden burden with them I turned back against Romero with a shudder, it was too bright, too bright!

"Watch now," he urged, "your first sunrise for a while, mine too, it's something to be seen."

I turned back slowly, squinting my eyes and expecting to burst into flames immediately as Helios rose but though my skin tingled there were no flames. I watched as the churning waves below turned from black to navy blue and then a dazzling deep turquoise, emerald in patches, and sapphire in others with creamy, white froth building in low waves at the top. I remembered splashing in it with my friends, ducking underneath the shallow waves with Phil when I was supposed to be studying on one of those rare summer days when he wasn't chasing someone else. When I had been younger Rob and I had built sandcastles here, he had hated it but done it anyway to amuse me.

I clutched at Romero's hand tightly and watched it awe and horror as the sun continued to climb. It made my eyes and mind ache alike, this was wrong, forbidden, I was the dead given life again, a dark and unholy trick! The damned burned in the light but I was not burning, how could that be? My eyes started to water and I blinked away the tears as I was forced to squint and then shield my vision with one hand. "It's...beautiful," I admitted.

"Yep," Romero agreed candidly.

I sank back against him and we watched, transfixed like the cat watches the fish in the bowl, until at least an hour had past. Romero let out a yawn then and I felt a wave of exhaustion overcome me, my body was sore and heavy, I was drained, my stomach growled and groaned, hungry and nauseous at the same time and my throat burned. "Let's get breakfast," Romero suggested as he stood up, tugging me up with him.

"And then what?" I wondered quietly as I continued to sneak glances up at the golden orb in the sky, half expecting it to lash out at me with a fiery whip.

He shrugged. "I don't know crazy cat, what do you want to do?"

"I..." Would they still be there? Would they want to see me? Surely it was allowed, I was no longer fanged and bloodthirsty, the masked men could not stop me. "My family," I admitted quietly.

"Ah er..." Romero did not know what to say, poor grave guard, always caught in the politics of the undead it was most unfair. "Well...could you think about that one maybe?" he suggested awkwardly.

I nodded. "Yes, many thoughts, many decisions for this humble mortal reborn, does one take syrup on pancakes or sugar? I forget what tasted best; there was only the red nectar for so long."

"Well that I can help with," Romero commented a little more happily, "there's a diner near here if I remember correctly, not the best but hey to you even burnt pancakes should taste pretty good after no pancakes at all."

"Yes," I answered eagerly as I allowed him to lead the way back to the stone tunnel that led up to the beach's car park. "I missed the delights of breakfast, only supper for the night dwellers, most unfair."

Surfside Diner, C rated at best it made business by serving quick fattening food to drunks and drug addicts while the staff turned a blind eye to the drug deals so long as the dealers continued to turn a blind eye to the lack of healthcare in the place. I looked at it with fresh eyes, weak eyes still sensitive to the ever rising sun and no longer sharp and focused. I frowned as only memories instead of voices told me of the brightly lit, grubby looking joint. There in the corner just before the toilet doors I had once thrown up, there to the left in a booth with a hole in the green leather couch created by my nails I had spotted Phil with another woman and vented out my rage upon them both, and there on the middle barstool I had spied Chase and he had grinned back and offered me a doughnut. I held back a shudder, Chase was gone now, permanently and Phil, if Phil still lived he was probably a mess who would want nothing to do with me, vampire or not.

I allowed Romero to guide me to a booth and then order some pancakes and questionable coffee. "It's not the same without whiskey," he lamented as he returned to the table and pushed a cup across to me, "but it will do."

I looked down at the murky brown liquid and tried to recall if I had even liked the stuff. What had I been like before Xander had damned me? "My name was Sarah," I said quietly to the rippling reflection in the cup, "Sarah Grey and I had an older brother, Robert Grey. I was an art student, still at university, I had a boyfriend, Phil but I liked someone else, Chase, and my best friend was Samantha." I wrapped both my hands around the cup and pressed my palms close to it, wincing as it burned. Yet the pain felt good, deserved.

"Easy there," Romero cautioned as one of his large hands pressed against my left knuckle gently, "it's not so easy for you to heal now."

"No?" I queried mockingly as I looked up at him. "As a vampire I was scarred and ugly, now I'm back to me, no leaking eye, no wonky knee and no furred hand." I released the cup at last and waggled my fingers at him, showing my reddened palms to him too.

"I never found you ugly," he retorted sincerely as he withdrew his hand in time for Doris to plonk down the pancakes. They were in an uneven stack with the syrup more generous on the left side, and a few were charred at the edges.

"Don't let me interrupt," she taunted with a short chuckle. She turned away from us and remarked loudly as she returned to the counter, "all these college girls dating older men to annoy their fathers or replace them."

Romero looked a little uncomfortable at her remark whilst I gave a small grin. "My father had dark red hair," I mused, "it's grey now and he was a business man in a corporation to do with school supplies, he probably still is, he was quite high up, well respected, a firm man. Anyway, you're nothing like that and he would probably hate you," I added brightly.

"Probably?" Romero echoed doubtfully before taking a deep gulp from his coffee.

"Definitely," I corrected before I finally took a tentative sip from my cup. I recoiled from it immediately with a wretch of disgust, it was so strong! I gagged and sat the cup down quickly, cutting off a chunk of pancake hastily and shoving it into my mouth to cover the taste.

Romero gave a low laugh at my reaction and commented dryly, "maybe you needed some sugar in that."

"Maybe," I grumbled before I started to tear into the pancakes with glee, now they were delicious! I devoured them as quickly as I could surprised not only by my sudden hunger but at just how good they tasted! I had forgotten the sticky, sweet pleasure of syrup and how soft and light the pancakes were. What I also forgot was that I was now human and thus could not eat in a blur nor could my stomach deal with the sudden impact of food. I felt a pain stab through me as my stomach churned and grumbled in annoyance at the sudden work I was putting it through and I found myself slamming back against my booth with a groan of pain as I wrapped both my hands about my torso and attempted to resist retching.

"Yeah you'll have to work on...eating," Romero commented calmly before taking another gulp from his coffee.

I found myself leaning forward with several trembles as my stomach fought against me and the food pounded and jumped inside it, slamming against me like rocks. "I feel sick," I murmured as I pushed the plate of half-eaten food away pointedly.

"Uh huh," Romero mused as if he had expected as much.

"Poisoned," I cried out as another sharp jolt of pain rushed through me.

"Unlikely," he argued. "Come on let's go find a room for the night er...morning and rest up a bit, and let you rediscover the toilet as well, in privacy." He stood up and came round to my booth, frowning as I let out several more loud moans. "It would be cute if I hadn't been without sleep for two days and nights now," he scorned me as he held out a hand.

I reached up and grasped his hand and allowed him to escort me out of the diner and round to a familiar set of apartments. The night was cold and for the first time in months I felt it. I shivered and was unsure if I enjoyed the sensation or loathed it. "I had a key for here," I remarked proudly as we reached the main door to the apartments down a filthy alleyway.

"I know," Romero retorted with a roll of his eyes, "though I doubt you have it anymore, still, should be easy enough to get into."

We headed through the main door and up the stairs to apartment 508. I hunted amongst my pockets producing a piece of moulding cookie, a sharpener shaped like a cat, a Hello Kitty wristwatch and finally a collection of keys with a Magic 8 Ball keyring and a seven legged octopus plush attached to them. I held them up one by one but could garner no clues from them and so began trying them out as Romero sighed but wisely chose not to comment. For a man who spent most of his time as a recluse looking at porn and talking on the radio he had an unexpected spark of intelligence in him. The ninth key turned out to be the lucky one that opened my familiar abode, granting us a stale and dull welcoming.

"Ah smelly apartment," I announced as I entered, "I have not missed thee!"

"Has anyone even cleaned in here?" Romero pondered as he looked about. "Ever?"

There was the chair I had once been bound to, the bed Romero and I had made vigorous love in, and Kent's abandoned jacket that he was convinced had become contaminated by the apartment. I knew there were a couple of blood bags still chilling in the fridge, and some petty cash in one drawer. This apartment had only been Ariadne's, though thanks to Jeanette's tricks Sarah's taint haunted it too.

I moved to the bed and sat down on it slowly, it creaked and I felt a spring poking up through the mattress. It amazed and upset me as to how sensitive I suddenly was to the filth and discomfort, what once had mattered only to Toreadors and Ventrue now mattered to mortal me. I had lost all of my extra vampire senses and gained the pathetic sensitivities of a human instead. The bed was lumpy, it would make sleep difficult, the apartment had an unpleasant smell to it and there were cobwebs in every corner, cockroaches running on the floor and dust everywhere I glanced, it was disgusting.

"One sleep, one sleep," I murmured to myself, or selves on the off chance that they listened still. "Just one, just one."

"Yes just one," Romero agreed, "I had forgotten how bad this dump was, easy to forget when you compare everything to a shack."

I turned to face him and said, "you came back for us."

He grinned and nodded. "Of course I did."

"And you helped me, you saved me," I murmured as I took a step towards him.

"Nah, nothing so dramatic," he jested, "I just stopped Kent from nibbling on you."

I grinned at that thought and commented, "the poet would probably complain my blood wasn't good enough." I closed the gap between Romero and I at last and reached up to wrap my arms about him, his shirt was soft under my fingertips and his body warm underneath it. Once I had noticed his heartbeats and the smell of his blood before anything else, now my predatory instincts were gone, and my mind was unclouded as I looked up at him.

The grave guardian leaned down and kissed me, reaching up one hand to weave through my hair gently as he did. It was different but good, there was no craving for blood to be squashed down and no voices yelling at me, it was just me and him and it was most unusual.

I awoke to find the room cold, the blanket rough upon my skin and the mattress lumpy beneath me. I felt Romero's warm hand burrowed into my hair and heard his deep voice talking to someone quietly. Sensing me stir he moved his hand down to my back and rubbed it gently, barely holding back a chuckle when I began to purr in pleasure.

"She's awake now Isaac," the grave guardian remarked, "yes," he added tiredly, "she's still human too." He paused and I glanced over as I felt his olive eyes upon me. He lifted his mobile away, covering the speaker with one finger and quipped, "do you want to talk to him?"

I tensed at the thought; part of me screamed yes but another part was wary and unsure. I reached out for the phone anyway, driven on by one voice or another. My mind felt lonely and quiet now yet soothed too as it started to learn what peace was. "Isaac?" I croaked the name out quietly, afraid to sully it with my mortal tongue.

"Ariadne!" the Baron answered happily. "How are you? Are you safe? Well?"

"Yes," I answered calmly, "safe but...mortal." I could not decide if being mortal meant I was well or not. "Very mortal," I murmured.

"We can fix that," the Baron retorted quickly as if all I needed was a bandage. "I can come to you-"

"Toreador," I interrupted flatly, "I would be Sarah the Toreador not Ariadne the Malkavian."

"You would still be you," Isaac argued, "just not mad." I heard the hesitation in his voice; he had fallen in love with the madness after all. "The voices would finally be quiet," he pointed out, whether to himself or me I was unsure.

"They're quiet now," I confessed, "but not for long, Sarah heard them before Ariadne." I remembered now, whispers in the night, tongues suggesting destruction, laughter mocking the pretty art and urging me to paint blood and death.

"You had them as a mortal?" Isaac asked in surprise.

"Yes," I admitted sorrowfully, "they are me, a Toreador could not deal with them, a Toreador would be madder."

"Perhaps not," Isaac murmured, "perhaps a Toreador would finally silence them. Think about it Ariadne," he begged.

"Don't come to me Isaac, not yet," I pleaded back.

"I won't," he consented, "but I can't wait long, I lost you once, I won't again." It was almost a threat, the Baron would not do without me, he had felt the sting of my loss already and did not want to bear it again.

I handed the phone back to Romero and he accepted it with a suspicious expression. "Isaac? We'll probably just stay in Santa Monica. Yes I'll stay with her. No I don't know how long for, until you ask me back or she asks me to leave. Alright, bye." He hung up and looked to me curiously, waiting for me to explain.

"The Baron wishes to bite me anew and have me reborn as a poet," I admitted stiffly.

"You don't seem happy about that," Romero retorted calmly.

"I do not think a Toreador could cope well with my madness," I admitted, "but I could be wrong. I was wrong about Kent having a secret cat collection."

He gripped my right shoulder gently and said firmly as he looked at me seriously, "you do what you want to do."

I nodded and leaned against him with a sigh, selfishly burrowing my head again him. I did not know what I wanted to do and I did not like that Isaac had placed an unknown time limit upon my decision. Romero wrapped both arms about me and embraced me close; he savoured my company as much as I did his though he would never admit it. "Don't rush back to the world of darkness crazy cat," he advised.