A/N Yes, updating again! Haha, I have no life. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy (:

I'm frightened by what I see,
But somehow I know that there's much more to come.
Immobilized by my fear,
And soon to be blinded by tears.
I can stop the pain if I will it all away.

Don't turn away,
Don't give in to the pain.
Don't try to hide,
Though they're screaming your name.
Don't close your eyes,
God knows what lies behind them.
Don't turn out the light,
Never sleep never die

Chapter 9: Disastrous Finality

The pain was overwhelming. It was like nothing she'd ever experienced before. She was dimly aware of Vlad's presence and David's sounds of pity, as he sucked the life out of her. Everything she'd ever done swam in front of her eyes. She settled on the memory of the day she had gotten Ilya, her one true companion.

The fluffy dog skittered towards her, its paws scrabbling to gain a grip on the flooring. Anastasia laughed at his antics, as did her mother. "What will you name him?" Rita asked. "Ilya," she had replied. Rita smiled, Ilya had Russian origins, "that's nice, dear." She stood up, brushing the stray hairs from herself. Anastasia watched her leave, cradling the dog in her arms. Ilya licked her face in response, she squirmed and smiled in contentment.

Why was this memory calling out to her? It was in no way remotely significant, nor did it signify a thing.

Ana...Ana...Ana...

Was she dying?

It sure felt like it.

But Anastasia wasn't scared, far from it.

Maybe Rita would come and meet her; maybe they'd leave earth together...maybe...

Oh it hurt. She jolted awake, finding herself in a dark room, the curtains drawn.

"David?" She managed to say, her mouth sore, and tender. Her throat was burning.

"I'm here," he moved out of the shadows, his face solemn. The burning was increasing, it hurt so badly.

She gestured towards her neck, "my throat..."

David nodded in understanding, "I know, I know, we can cure that soon."

It hit Anastasia what he was suggesting, "no! I won't kill someone!"

But even as she said it, she was imagining warm, smooth blood, running down her throat, quenching this indescribable thirst.

He smiled at the pure bliss on her face, "I told you that you'd get used to it."

Her eyes snapped opened, "no," she shook her head vehemently, "no."

She jumped to her feet, swaying slightly.

"You can't make me a killer. You can't. I can prevent it!"

And she ran, blindly, from the room. Only hearing a hint of David's echoing cry, "Ana! Don't!"

Vlad stepped out from behind the door; he sighed and looked at David, "guess I'll have to fix this."

David sunk to his knees; he knew what Vlad's definition of "fix" was. She was as good as dead now. He shouldn't have tried to do this to her, but Vlad had made it all sound so perfect. But nothing is perfect, and David should have remembered that. Now Anastasia was paying the price.

She kept running, unaware of the footsteps which echoed hers. She didn't know where she was heading, anywhere, anywhere from this place.

Vlad could easily outrun her, however kept at her heels, enjoying the game of cat and mouse. He had agreed to let David change the girl, but had made it clear that if she objected, she was to die. He couldn't have unwilling vampires, they caused too much trouble. It twas a pity, David would be much harder to control now.

Growing bored of the chase, he tackled her to the ground. They both fell, falling with a thump.

She squirmed and wriggled, desperate to free herself. But it was to no avail. She had thought David strong – Vlad possessed at least three times his strength.

"Ah stop struggling, you'll only make it worse for yourself, you know," from his tone, he could have been talking about something as mundane as the weather.

"Why did you change me, if only to kill me?" She spat at him, injecting as much venom as possible.

Vlad shrugged, "it was what David wanted, who was I to object? If you'd only accepted it, I wouldn't have to do this."

"I'll never do what you do! You kill innocent people!"

"Yes, yes. Details, details. Anyway, Ana, enough chit-chat."

She growled at his use of David's nickname for her, "Don't you ever call me that!"

She stared into those bottomless pits of eyes, and smiled maliciously, "you may be able to kill me, but I have one thing, which you'll never have."

Vlad looked down at her, genuinely curious, "and what's that?"

"Love."

His eyes glinted, anger visible. So she was right, Vlad was just a heartless killer. She waited, her heart beating steadily, she'd said what she wanted to say. If he killed her now, at least she'd gotten the one thing she'd always longed for. It was a cliché, yes, but isn't it what everyone strives to achieve? To love and be loved in return.

It had all started with a dance. A simple dance. You never know when fate will strike.

Anastasia forgave David.

And, with great precision, and swiftness, Vlad ended Anastasia's life, with one swipe of a fang.

The light left her eyes, slowly and carefully. Her face became frozen into that of never-ending satisfaction and eternal contentment.

Even in the end, she hadn't lost hope.

And that is all that matters, right?