Hey guys! I KNOW I said the last one would be the final one but I can't resist coming back to it! One condition though! You read my other fan-fic 'And just when I thought I was prepared for anything' too! Deal? Hope you enjoy!

"Myrnin? Hello, are you in here?" my foot sunk through about an inch and a half of dust as I walked through the broken lab and subconsciously I fingered the silver stake at tucked in my belt. Just before I took another step my phone lit up.

Claire, honey, please come home. The kids and I are worried. I know you two were close when he was your boss but he had a mental break down. He's dangerous. Besides what're you going to say to him? Hi Myrnin haven't seen you in fifteen years-how you doing? Please come home, hun. Shane xx.

I could sense the persuasion in the text but I shut my phone anyway and continued searching the lab. I could imagine him at home on the sofa, Alex on his lap, his beautiful face lined with worry. That picture alone made me want to get the hell out of there and sprint back to him, but I knew I couldn't. I had to do this.

I took another unsteady step and yelped as something crunched beneath my feet. Blowing the thick duvet of dust off of the ground I realised it was the leg of a spindly chair he had sometimes sat on to read. Peering round, the whole floor seemed to be covered with fragments of broken items. Books, glass beakers you name it.

My brow furrowed and I shone my torch around the small room. Spinning round, something metal blinded me as it reflected the light from my torch. Squinting I realised it was a door handle-the door handle to (if my memory served) Myrnin's bedroom! Careful not to step on any glass (I was only wearing thinly souled trainers after all) I made my way across the room and grasped the door handle. The dusty metal felt like ice on my fingers, and every instinct I possessed was screaming for me to release it. But still, I persevered twisting the door knob hard. Every tiny bit of strength in my body was forcing the door handle round. Slowly, agonisingly, it turned inch by inch until an ear splitting crack was heard and it snapped off all together. One finger at a time, I unclenched my fist and let the handle fall to the floor. Slowly I raised my hand and gave the door a little push letting it swing open.

"Myrnin?" I called, my voice echoing around the small space. And then I saw him. He was curled up in the corner of the room next to his little cot that once upon a time I'd slept in. He was wearing torn up grey trousers and nothing else. I could count his ribs, he was so thin. Not an ounce of fat was on his bones, his arms and legs like twigs. His stomach was practically two-D. He raised his head at my entry and I gasped as I looked at his face. His black slightly curling hair fell to his elbows and tumbled over his frail cheek bones and jaw. But what shocked me most were his eyes. His irises were a shining crimson and looked like they were going to swallow up his pupils, which were the size of pin-pricks.

"You shouldn't have come here, Claire." He croaked his voice cracking.

"It's been fifteen years. Fifteen years. Nothing." As I looked at him with fury his eyes slowly filled up. In a flash he was in front of me eyes huge and insane looking.

"I was very bad. Very bad Claire, very bad. You have no idea what I've been through. No idea."

"I have no idea what you've been through? You have no clue Myrnin! I've had three children. I got married. Oh and did I mention I had a miscarriage?" on that last comment he jerked like I'd electrocuted him.

He sunk to the floor wrapped his thin arms around his legs and whispered "Bad, bad, bad…." Over and over like a mad man.

"Myrnin, what did you do?" I murmured speaking slowly and carefully, like the way I would to Alex when he was confused or angry.

"Bad, bad, bad.."

"Myrnin, answer me." I said, more firmly now.

"I can't Claire. You'd never forgive me. I can't forgive myself, but I can deal with that. I can't handle you hating me." Something started to click. The way he reacted when I'd spoke of miscarriage and the way he spoke, with such guilt and he said I would hate him.

Sinking to the floor I felt myself start to hyperventilate.

"It wasn't a miscarriage was it?" Fat tears rolled down his thin face as he shook his head. "How? How did you do it?"

"I am blessed-" He said it with so much venom that it was clear he didn't feel that he was blessed "-with magic." Suddenly he opened his hand and there was a ball of purple fire sitting there-but I could feel the cold coming off it.

"Why? Why would you kill my child?" I said jaw clenching to fight my tears.

"I loved you for a long time Claire. But you were none the wiser as you went and got engaged to that boy. And imagine how I felt when I found out you were carrying his child. I hadn't meant to. The hatred-it forced the magic out of me. I am so sorry."

"That's not good enough!" suddenly I jumped to my feet and pulled my stake from my belt and went for him. In a flash he was on his feet his waxy lips very close to my ear.

"I wouldn't recommend that Claire. You have no idea how hungry I am. Now get out of here before I kill you."

"You killed my child!" I yelled my wrist snaking out-stake in hand. A burst of white hot pain engulfed me as his hand whipped up and caught mine.

"I'm going to give you a countdown. If you don't get out, I'm going to quench the thirst I've been struggling with for fifteen years." I froze unsure of my next move. Once upon a time I wouldn't have given it a second thought, but now I had a husband that loves me and three beautiful children. In a burst of clarity each one of their faces appeared in front of my eyes-and I knew there was no question as to what I would do. I turned and ran. I ran out of the room, out of his lab into the evening air.

But the danger was far from gone, I realised, as an ominous "Ready or not here I come." Sounded from behind me. In a second I was running again, running so fast it felt like my legs were going to fall off. But he was faster. He appeared before me, pale skin glowing in the moonlight. I attempted to run past him but he caught me in the stomach with his arm-sending me flying to the ground.

He lowed himself over me and breathed "Gotcha."

Like hell you do, I thought grabbing the silver knife from my pocked and sliding it effortlessly between his ribs-the way he had once taught me to do. He looked down at himself and appeared shocked at the dark red ribbons running down his torso. He made one last feeble attempt at pulling the knife out, before falling to the ground. I stood up and looked down at his frail body, more graceful in death than in life and I felt a tiny part of myself wither and die as he lay there.