Dreadfully Simple

Allison stood over a single cross which had been placed at the head of two large piles of dirt and stone. She wore a dress of light black and white cloth, her tears drier in her hazel eyes as they had been emptied of all emotion. She remained in a silent void of nothingness. They had been her only living relatives in this horrible world, this life which had been stripped of all happiness while her heart ached with death and suffering, pain and sorrow. It was a sad time, the present, where creatures of myth and legend lingered in the night as a name of horrifying origin lingered on ones' tongue. Creatures lurked at night, and town rules changed.

The girl dared not move, hoping the events were not real as she stood there alone dusk. Tears streamed down her face as the past weeks came back to her. There was an unprovoked riot against her family. Something unnatural happened which turned them against one another. The town had strung her and her parents up against the anger and hatred of themselves because of this invisible force. Someone had taken control of the villager’s minds and turned them against one single family. The men stood firmly behind the three, rifles in hand as their booted feet sat against the hanging block, ready to push it out from under them. When the support disappeared, Allison would feel a heavy weight pulling against her neck and it would be over quickly. Allison stood there, the world moving without her, her parents begged. She heard none of the names or obscenities. She merely searched for a kind face.

A man stood in the shadows of the grocer's building, his facial expression blank as he silently stood in black attire and watched her. His pale flesh and green eyes she could see from She remained in eye contact with the pale man--she’d never seen him before now--until she felt the men push the blocks abruptly out from underneath her feet. She fell to the ground as the rope snapped from above. It fell beside her as a dead serpent. She screamed as her mother and father hung overhead. The people around her, her friends who had been with her since the day of their birth, were white and sickly. They had been in a trance, and had just shaken it off. Allison leaned forward and waves of inescapable tears overcame her. Her long brown hair fell over her eyes and shoulders as she brought her knees up to her chest.

She hadn’t stopped crying for days. All she had ever loved had been taken from her. Her friends had tried to speak with her but even if they had gotten into her home, they could not have gotten a response out of her, the faces which had taken her parents from her. Those who had seen her had offered their condolences, then left. She hadn't eaten for days. Time had passed slowly around her. The villagers had buried her parents in the cemetery, which bore large crosses at the head made from wood which were carved to perfection by a boy her age, Aaron, who had been her best friend at one time. Even his company wasn't welcome in her heart.

She stood in the cemetery one night weeks later, weak and alone. There were none who could condone for their sins and her heart, though numb, cried for justice. The sun had lowered itself behind the distant horizon, leaving the sky violet and gold. As the graves grew darker, a silent medley of childhoods echoed through the air. For revenge she would’ve needed more strength, more resolve. She’d been too weak. Of all things, she shouldn’t have been out at night.

"Who's there?" Her voice was but a whisper. He was behind her. Turning quickly, she met the same cold eyes that had remained emotionless throughout the riot. Those eyes were darker than she thought they were. She was freed from the quick death by him. The man stood above her, his long black hair behind him as he stared through her. One glance into his eyes had told her he was the enchanter of the villagers. Though he was threatening, she didn’t fear him. He was adorned in black, his face smooth and free of any blemishes that would show him ugly. He was far from wretched. He was beautiful, bewitching. His hand brushed her cheek and sent chills down her spine. The corner of his mouth turned up. He spoke slowly, no louder than a whisper as if he knew it would shatter the night if he did so.

"Allison, I have searched far for one small glimpse of your perfection. Lo and behold, tragedy brings us together. . . " Fear arose but waned as quickly as it arrived. His silky voice, his radiance was beyond any she had ever encountered before in her life.

"Who are you. . . " Desire reflected in his gaze. She gasped and tried to step away from him.

"My name," He took her hand in his and kissed her pale skin. "is Viktor. I offer my condolences for your loss. . . " He didn't release her hand but pulled her closer. Allison hadn’t cared to look away from him".

"I thank you." Viktor smirked. He had been beckoning her to obey him, only him. Taking away those she depended on and isolating her, planting ideas of spite and dislike in her mind all the while. She almost involuntarily fought Viktor, but with a caress of her palm with his thumb her body had gone numb. His arm had snaked around her waist. She was dazed while his soft lips touched hers. Her arms lay limply behind her as he tipped her back. The black cape he wore draped over her and she felt her hands come up to rest on his upper arms. His lips left hers and touched her chin, then neck. The skin at her throat broke and she fought to release herself only to find herself being held forcefully by Viktor’s arm securely about her waist. Her hands trying to push him away, the pain quick as she moved. Red overcame her immediate sight, making her shut her eyes to block out thoughts of anguish and rage but unable to. Her sight began to fade as he squeezed her, pulling more blood to the surface. His now startling black eyes staring lustily into hers, he cooed.

“You are mine. . .” He gathered her into his arms, her head resting on his shoulder as her arms fell limply over her side. His lips touched her forehead and disappeared into the night.
~~~~

Allison opened her eyes, so weak she could not bear to open her eyes. She couldn't forget Viktor’s changing eyes as they gazed into hers. The air smelled stale, moldy, familiar. She knew this smell, the haunting sense of death. She was hungry, not for bread or meat, but for something else. Her heart was still, cold. Shivering, she heard footsteps approaching in the darkness. She knew who it was, and she braced herself for the worst. There was a pause as she watched the darkness disappear. There was Viktor, illuminated in candlelight, stared down at her. She wasn't sleeping in the dark, but some sort of box. A casket. Her voice had gone. But something had replaced it. Something irresistible. Something delicious. She sat up with some difficulty, her eyes searching for the source of her thirst through the red. Even the candlelight glowed crimson. Viktor remained above her, the exposed throat his offer to her. “Drink.” Her lips touched his cool skin and sharp edges grew from her front teeth. She plunged greedily and took her fill.

His blood tasted so sweet, so exquisite, and she filled herself. Pulling away, she licked her lips as he smirked, his eyes reflecting the flames from the candles around the room strategically to get the full effect of brilliance. She watched Viktor, feeling more alive than she had ever felt. His blood was exhilarating, and she felt her heart soar with appreciation and love for Viktor.

“Viktor, thank you for this. I can't explain this feeling. I don't know how to repay you. . .” He held her close and they kissed. It was long before they parted, and her eyes felt glazed over.

“Be mine for eternity.”

“Always. . .”

“I have one gift more for you, Love.” Her gaze followed his into a dark corner.

“What is it?” she said with awe.

“Go and see.” Allison was only able to make out a dark figure standing in the shadows as if it were tied to a stake. When she got closer, she saw Aaron Kinney standing in fear before her. Her eyes had begun to see red again and she smiled in awe. He looked beaten, his face bleeding from a scrape that looked as if he had been thrown across a stone floor and rammed into a wall. The rage was turning into a thirst not unlike the one she’d experienced before. Her eyes flashed of desire, rage, and most importantly revenge.

“Hello, Aaron.” Her voice came out in a hiss and she touched his face, feeling a spark of excitement course through her. The urge got stronger, and she saw the crimson liquid coursing through his veins. His blue eyes were horrified, frozen. She was compelled to move faster. She wasn't sure how to handle the situation at first, and felt Viktor behind her, so close, so warm. His hands trailed down her arms, and he raised her hands with his own, resting them at Aaron's nape. “To kill, drain here. You can taste death when you find it.” He led her hands to another spot on Aaron's neck. “To create, drain here. In order to fully create, add your own blood the next night. Choose wisely.”

“This one was one of those who killed my mother and father. They deserve to pay.” She put her fingers over his eyes, and lightly slid them down his face, her neck bent slightly to the right as she smiled evilly. Viktor's hands didn't leave her waist. Allison grabbed Aaron's hair from behind his head, and she pulled his head to his left, revealing his nape. Licking her lips, she revealed her fangs and pinpointed the pulse. She’d decided to kill him. Aaron quaked from fear and Allison watched his eyes close tightly before plunging her fangs into the exposed skin. Hearing him cry of agony as she sucked the life out of him, Aaron struggled against her. Viktor left her side to hold him down. Her craving renewed itself, and she drank hungrily, taking as much as she wanted before the cry stopped. She withdrew herself from his skin licking her lips satisfied. The scent of blood lingered in the air, and she turned to meet Viktor's approving look, meeting his lips with her own, christened.

(present day)
"AAH!" Sitting up with a sweat and tear-drenched face, Sylvia stopped her cries, and began breathing laboriously, holding her head in her hands as she turned over to her other side, her long hair cascading over her eyes. Tasting blood on her lips, she almost jumped until she realized it was just because she bit her lip so hard she cut herself. Looking at her clock as soon as she regained her composure, she noticed that it was twenty past midnight. That horrible dream again, she thought, the memories remaining sharply on her brain. It looked like me. Who was he, that man who. . .The young woman searched her mind, trying to find an explanation. Why did she have this dream, why was she aching inside as if she had lost someone important in her life. “I have everything I need in life! I have no reason to have weird dreams and stay up at all hours at night. Why can't I sleep during the night instead of during the day.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose, irritated. “Answers don't come to those who wait. . . They come to those who look for them. Stop thinking so much." The sixteen year old girl stood and wobbled over to her bathroom. She was wide awake. Too bad she didn't feel the same during the day.

Everyday, it felt, she was always so tired, and the sun irritated her eyes as if she had sun burnt them, then she was always so pale. Then, every time she felt the urge to eat something, she couldn't find anything to strike her nerve. She even went to the twenty four hour grocery store to find something, but then she would wander into the foods section, and the only thing she could find was fresh meat. Fresh. Juicy. Raw. Meat. She could eat normal food, but it irritated her stomach. It didn't even look like she wanted to eat the meat when she cooked it, but she would always squeeze the juice out of it, trying to drain it of all the blood before she ate it, but then she would find herself wanting to drink the juice instead. She felt weird whenever she saw a person walk by, all clean-shaven and, if they had long hair, their hair pulled back in a ponytail so their necks were uncovered. Why would someone's neck make her so hungry? First she figured it was hormones, but then again, she knew she wasn't gay or lusting at the time. Her lips would dry and she would lick them, smelling blood. Blood. The thought of blood made her hungry, but there were no such things as vampires, were there? She had to be sick. The young woman decided to watch some TV and look for something to eat, hopefully she wouldn't have a weird temptation for the one thing she didn't think she could stomach.

With her seventeenth birthday coming up within the next few weeks, she was arranged a doctor appointment. She couldn’t go to Europe with any sicknesses. She was barely ever sick, but this time she the depression hit her deeply, so she felt it would be wise to look into remedies that could stop the feeling. Her foster parents were worried about her, therefore they decided action would be best.

Walking into the square waiting room of the office building, she sat down in the not quite full room and waited for her name to be called. Near her, there was a small boy with flaming red hair quietly playing with a 'Mr. Potato Head' game, his mother, red-haired as well, watching him worriedly. The teenager watched the mother, and suddenly felt her sadness. The boy had an ear infection, a really bad one. She didn't know how she knew, the information came to her. Next to the little boy on a chair next to his mother sat a little girl with the same color of hair sitting quietly; she had a rag to her ear, holding it there and almost sobbing. Another ear infection, worse than the boy's. They were twins, and they seemed to be able to lock in on the other’s condition. Looking over to the other side of the room, she saw a man sitting with his face in a magazine which was about personal health, and felt his problem flowing into her. Heart problem. He was worried about needing surgery. Another group in the room was a couple, man and woman. From the way they sat, which was quite nervously, she guessed they were going to have a baby. Too bad they didn't know it yet. She was probably having some unusual reactions to food and couldn't stop throwing up in the morning. She felt herself staring at them harder than the others.

"Sylvia Thatcher," said a nurse, who just entered the room with a clipboard and a bright uniform which had prints of colorful elephants on it while she wore white stirrup pants. Sylvia stood up and walked through the hallway with the woman. "Third door to your left." The nurse cared more about her attire than her patients; a loss of confidence in the system. Allison noted this and the nurse left her; she watched the happy woman walk away and caught herself looking at the woman’s exposed nape. She didn't catch herself, though, when she licked her lips unconsciously. Turning her gaze, her expression changed to a malicious glare, and she cursed herself. For a moment, she almost saw red, and red was not her favorite color.

Sitting down on the examination bed, she waited for the good doctor. It was very boring, the examination room. The only things that seemed to bring color to the room was a picture of a forest scene, where there was a tall stone structure in the distance, and a poster of the human breathing system and its veins. This somehow made her stand up, and approach the picture. The 'person' was facing forward, and Sylvia stared at the picture, bringing up her hand to trail the veins. The combination of red and blue made it look more entertaining she guessed, and her fingers stopped as they trailed one vein in particular up to the neck, where there was an intersection of a vein and an artery. Pressing her forefinger and middle finger apart onto the spot she put them a bit to the side of them where just the vein remained, and put her fingers in a similar place there. Her mouth began to water and she shut her eyes as she started to see red, pulling her fingers away awkwardly as she heard the door open abruptly. Her ears began to hurt and she covered them up, forcing the feeling down. "Miss Thatcher, are you okay?" the doctor asked. Sylvia shook the feeling away, and then looked up feeling better.

"Um, yeah..." The doctor was a man, his short hair brown as his blue eyes seemed to show he cared. Well, she thought. If he cared about me as much as his golfing appointment in an hour, I'd have it made.

"Are you sure?" The feeling subsided and she nodded. "Have a seat. How are you feeling today?"

"Fine I guess."

"You wouldn't be here if you were fine."

"I've never been to a doctor alone before."

"Uneasy?"

"Yeah I guess."

"Well, we're going to take your pulse, and then we're going to perform a test or two." Sylvia nodded, and he frowned. "The nurse didn't tell you to change?"

"She seemed eager to leave."

"Eileen is like that." He said, putting down the chart board. Sylvia watched his stethoscope touch down over her heart. Confusion flashed across his eyes, and Sylvia had the sudden urge to laugh. She was more confused to tell the truth. He moved the scope up a bit, and tried again. More confusion. "Well, lets try something else." He took Sylvia's wrist and looked at his watch, which was not a watch but a five hundred dollar Rolex. He watched the second hand, looked at her wrist again, changed his position on her wrist, then tried again. "Impossible. Lift your arm." Sylvia did as told, and he, almost harshly, grabbed her upper arm from underneath where the infant pulse is usually found. After a few seconds, he let go and turned her neck slightly, going for her pulse on her neck. She grabbed his wrist in a vice-like grip and glared at him. After a few seconds, he suddenly went numb and released her. She let him go. "You've never been to a doctor alone?" His voice was shaky. Sylvia shook her head no, and he left the room quickly.

In a minute, he returned with another doctor, a woman, older and calmer. "Hello, Sylvia, how are you?" Sylvia nodded, indifferent. The woman began the same checkup as the man, but she did hers a bit more thoroughly, but came to the same confusion in the end. "Are you feeling well?"

"I'm wondering why this mook is in a panic. Other than that, I only feel depressed, which is why I supposedly came here in the first place."

"Dr. Reef is quite normal thank you very much, Miss Thatcher. What made him act out of character is that, why this may come as a shock to you but I assure you it is quite true, you don't have a pulse or a heart rate for that matter." She brought up a light and opened Allison's eyes wide, flashing the light into them.

"AH!" Sylvia pulled back away from the doctor, who dropped the light. "What do you think you're doing, lady!"

"Checking your eyes for sensitivity, what else?" Sylvia shut her red eyes.

"They're sensitive okay! I could've told you that!" The doctor picked up the light again.

"Just let me check your eyes for infections." She grabbed Sylvia's arm, who fought for it back, and she stepped away from the two.

"No. Get away from me."

"It won't hurt, now stop acting like a baby." Sylvia looked up abruptly, and the doctor gasped. Her eyes were no longer hazel but a deep blood red. She could feel two of her teeth grow sharp. Her hand clamped over her mouth and she looked at the frightened doctors, feeling the urge pull at her even more. Without much thought, she ran over to the door and yanked the door open, running out into the waiting room and leaving the office. The sun hit her at full force, but it wasn't painful like the light directed at her eyes. She ran down a street, and ducked into a dark alley which would empty out on a local park that was hidden by trees. The urge got larger and larger until she could no longer take it. Looking over her shoulder, she saw two shadows behind her, and then she looked ahead of her, gasping as she rammed into a man not much taller than her. The good thing was that she wasn't seeing red anymore, but she could smell the malice on the man in front of her, and attempted to feel fear herself; she couldn't feel anything.

"Well, lookie here, fellas. Looks like we gots a little girl in our midst." The two shadows behind her were men who had foul smiles on their faces as they sauntered over to the two. Sylvia knew she had to get out of there before anything happened. "What should we do with her, guys? She looks quite delicious if I say so myself." The first man grabbed her upper arms, then threw her towards a wall. She put her foot out, landing against the brick wall of the building and did a back flip down as if the wall were the ground. The three looked amazed at her reaction and were furious as well. Sylvia was surprisingly calm, and she allowed a smirk to cross her face. They approached her and the urge came back. She saw red. She hungered for something they had. Standing calmly, she faced the three, letting the redness enter her eyes. She couldn't resist. It was so strong, and she allowed the fangs to form at her teeth, and they stopped.

"You should've run." They were frozen, and Sylvia felt stimulated as their fear swarmed into her in the form of the urge. The one who caught her lunged at her, and she grabbed him by the neck, feeling strength beyond her imagining enter her. Lifting the man up into the air, she threw him against the opposite wall, and glared evilly at the fallen man. His friends were gone, she observed, and she sauntered over to him, her glare turning into a malicious smile. Kneeling down by him, she stared down at him, and felt his profane thoughts, but it was too late. He grabbed her wrist and arm, throwing her under him. He held her down with one arm across her neck as his other hand was busy trying to undo her button on her jeans. Her eyes were still red, her fangs bared as he tried not to look into them. "Look at me."

Her hand came up and, resting her fingers at his forehead, she moved them down lightly, getting his attention. Her eyes flashed gold, and he froze, making her smirk evilly. She ordered for him to let her go, and he did carefully, not losing eye contact with her. Grabbing a fistful of hair on his scalp, she gazed upon his neck, remembering what happened in the doctor's office with the poster. She pushed her fingers into his neck at the death point, and plunged her fangs into the man's neck, causing him to gasp and struggle as he came out of the reverie. She held him tightly, not letting him move.

The sensation of warmth over her lips made her roll her eyes in bliss as though she had been renewed, and she sucked the life from him with a newfound hunger. After he stopped struggling, she felt the last of his blood leave him, and she receded her fangs, licking her lips of the tasty treat. Letting his hair go, she threw his limp body against the brick wall behind her, and licked her lips again, a large, evil smile on her face. "Told you." The redness left her eyes and with it the evil. She suddenly felt quite normal, but very nauseous, and after the blood had already soaked into her skin, turning her a blush color, she saw the dead body at her feet.

A choice was presented to her. The nausea passed and she reveled in the sudden burst of energy. She just drank the blood of a human being and it felt good.

A smile crossed her face. She heard a tune she’d only heard in her dreams, one she could barely recall. Her eyes reached upwards and she let a name flow past her lips.

“Viktor.”

Mistletoe Dreams

A/N: For awhile I wasn't sure if I wanted to pair Dana with Alan or Jordan. It's a lose/lose situation, with her ending up in major trouble. Alan = running from the law; Jordan = government big wigs getting angry and already having their hands on her. Dana's a real trooper, but I'd choose Alan just for the record.

~~~~

Dana walked into the foyer, reading her watch turn eleven-fifty. Jordan should be here soon, she thought, grabbing her coat from the hook and holding it over her arm. She had behaved and was completely sober, and she kept responsible company as she was told to. She was awake but extremely tired and glad she wasn’t driving home, but she wasn’t sure she liked her parting company. Jordan, though lenient enough to allow her attendance to a Christmas party, was an agent of the one national government she despised: her own.

The doorbell rang. Dana said her farewells to her acquaintances and the hostess, Cade, when Jordan stepped into the foyer.

“You ready?” he said. She nodded and he reached for her coat, taking it from her arm carefully. He held it up and let her slip into the sleeves. “It dropped twenty degrees since nightfall.” Dana zipped up her coat and both turned as Cade cleared her throat from the entrance to the living room. Plastering on the best imitation of a happy but tired guest, Dana looked at the woman, beckoning her to say her peace. When she said nothing, Dana searched for what she was trying to show her. After a moment, the woman glanced up to the ceiling.

At first the sight of the mistletoe didn’t and couldn’t faze her; but after a few seconds her logic faded away and her imagination began to fill the void instead.

Dana Winifred Eiseley never catered to a daydream. She had always believed that logical reasoning was enough to drive any reverie away, no matter how possible a situation may have seemed. It was always easy to change her mind about small, miniscule daydreams when they reared their ugly head. This one was made to be very vivid. She wasn’t prepared for it.

Jordan had leaned over and kissed her. It was a simple thought, really. Jordan’s dry lips touched hers softly and sent a single shiver down her spine. He’d been walking around in the cold. She could tell by his chilled nose which was pressed against her cheek. She had brought up her hand to touch his cheek, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to him. Wait, she thought. Her logic was abandoning her to join the imagination. Her breath was short, her body warm with anticipation when his hands massaged the small of her back. Backs were neglected areas. Traitor.

The reverie faded. She looked up to see Jordan’s lack of interest in the decoration. She tried to calm her nerves as he reached for the doorknob, choosing not to humor Cade’s mistletoe. Upon Dana’s face came a burning sensation, something she hid. Looking away was something she’d never done before now. Boy, she thought with a twist to her stomach in case Jordan noticed her discomfort. There really was no limit to how much a person could discover about herself. Jordan opened the door and exited the house, walking towards the street where his sedan was parked. The air was colder than Dana had anticipated and she focused on the weather now which was the only way to calm the rapid beating of her heart. He was the only person whom she saw on an everyday basis; this was turning for the worst.

Most likely the only reason for her behavior was that she was lacking companionship, losing touch with people her age. The fact that she spoke with only those who were several years older than her hadn’t seemed that important until just recently, and maybe it was finally taking its toll on her. Since she’d only spent time with Jordan, it was natural that she would begin to feel affection for him. She would need to suppress the mundane sentiment so she could get on with her life. Government workers were not to get emotionally connected with their charges, so logic would say that she needed to trust her reason with this issue.

“Dana?” She looked up to see Jordan looking down at her with slight concern on his face. His hazel blue eyes reflected the overhead streetlamp. She blushed again. It would be impossible to tell if it wasn’t the cold air that made her cheeks red; and for this she was grateful.

“Yes?”

“I asked if you had fun.” Dana didn’t say anything at first. She thought back to the party. The guests and Cade made her feel at home, hadn’t judged her past. No one asked her where she came from or why she moved up north, but they did let her join in a game of trivial pursuit and scrabble. Everyone trusted her and she fit in well. She felt wanted, loved. She hadn’t felt that comfortable since before her mother died, when she met the blues band at J.D.’s Sandwich Shop. It felt as if a warm security blanket had been pulled over her, and she didn’t know how to respond to Jordan’s query. She couldn’t answer him truthfully. He wouldn’t understand.

“It was fine. I’m just a little tired.” When they reached the car, Jordan opened the door for her. Her manners had rubbed off on him since he’d come to know her. When he saw the mistletoe hanging from the roof beam, he had the oddest vision of kissing Dana, which was something he had dismissed almost immediately because of proper protocol. He admitted her lips had felt good during the small flash when he relished in the moment, but knew better. Being older than Dana, maybe not as old emotionally, and with proper training, he had some control over his actions. When he looked downwards towards the doorknob, he had gotten a glance of her reaction. She was pink in the cheeks as she thought probably the same thing as he. He wasn’t going to tell her he knew, though. Sitting down in the driver’s seat, he through it would be in their best interest to let the subject alone. He couldn’t bring anything so personal up to her.

“We’ve got some work to do. Colin sent us another case and wants information within the week.” The car switched on under his careful hands and drove forward while Dana fastened her seatbelt with a nod of acknowledgement. The case file would put them back on track.