Author's note: Well, I finally got a decent length one-shot out. Been a while since I wrote a one-shot that was longer than one page and wasn't for 15minuteficlets, but here's a four page long one-shot that I'm actually rather fond of, set after Nomak kills the drug dealer. Hope you enjoy, and please review, because reviews are my addiction, just not harmful.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even Zita. I just gave her a name, cause I couldn't call her the girl, or junkie, or that druggie girl, etc. Please don't sue me. I don't want to be sued, and I don't have much money as it is. Just like, twenty bucks. But if you would like to give me the rights to Nomak, I'd appreciate it very much, since nobody else seems to want him or want to do anything with him.


JUST TO BE BETTER

The blood. It tasted so sweet, so deliciously sweet. It made him almost delirious, delirious with relief. It was a faint relief the blood brought to him, cold as a dead body yet not coagulated, smooth, cooling his feverish body.

Nomak had known the dealer was vampire all along. The girl had been human, just another mortal junkie who would probably do anything for that white dust she'd been given for the right price. The drug dealer probably got a kick out of the sight of her, probably thought he was so much better than her.

The girl probably thought she was so much better than him, the tall, hooded stranger, the wreck whose face was barely visible. She probably garnered some comfort as she passed him by, sniffing her drug. He looked worse off than she did, he probably looked more desperate than she was.

Only Nomak could see them all for who they really were - they were all junkies, all addicts. They each had their own poison, their own drug they needed, they craved to the point it was painful it they didn't get it soon enough. He was the only one out of the three of them aware how pathetic they all really were.

It made him despise them even more.

Now the dealer was dead though. The victim of his own kind gone wrong. Killed so Nomak and those like him could get their fix. Now Nomak had gotten his drug, and those behind him were getting their own, all to sate the hunger, the addiction that made them burn.

The familiar sent of the female lingered, tinged with fear, and as Nomak emerged onto the street, he turned. Saw the girl, saw the fear in her wide, hazy eyes. He could tell she was high, but not too far gone to realize what he had done, what she had heard. The reaper should have had an idea she might stay, might wait to see what would happen.

Her glance, suspicion and fear and the comfort that perhaps she wasn't the lowest lowlife there all mingled in her glance, it should have told him. It should have been clear he might have an audience, but he was caught by surprise, seeing her there, half out of it from the drug, half out of it from the fear.

Milky blue eyes, surrounded by thick streaks of blood and thin streaks of white, narrowed, grew cold with hate. Teeth were bared in a snarl, the fire casting shadows on Nomak's already twisted visage, rage surging in the barely cooled veins with blood that had already been starting to boil from his feverish temperature.


Zita had gotten bad vibes from the man the moment she'd glimpsed him, forcing herself not to stare in wary suspicion as she passed him by. She had felt chills run down her spine, even as she sniffed, inhaling and soothing her body before it could go too far into withdrawal. She'd been too afraid to get too high though, her buzz dampened by the sight of him.

She'd glanced back over her shoulder a few moments after passing him. Morbid curiosity she supposed, the kind that could get you killed, but she couldn't quite stop herself. After all, she wasn't in her right mind at the moment. She was almost euphoric in that sick sense that her body was starting to stop hurting, even while fear made her blood run cold.

Her dealer was walking towards where the man had been, only he was gone, disappearing behind the wall, and soon the dealer had as well. She had shuddered, worried. She had seen the man, glimpsed his face, seen he was worse off than she was. If she wasn't so frightened by him, she would have been comforted.

Nobody liked being a lowlife.

Something told her to run, but she stayed. Like a stupid child she stayed, waiting to see if her paranoia was well founded or if the man was just another junkie and once he had his drug, he'd leave, leave everything in peace, and in one piece.

Zita had heard the crash, the shatter of glass. She heard the scuffle, she heard shrieks, strange shrieks. She'd told herself to run, but her body wouldn't move, and she was having trouble staying coherent. The high and the fear didn't mix well, they made her nausea, made her want to run away and puke.

But she stayed put, frozen in place, and she'd watched as the man came into view again, his hood down, revealing how sick, how inhuman he looked. She started to back away as she saw him become angry, like an animal, a rabid animal on the high of a bloodlust.


Nomak watched the human female start to back up, watched her as she finally moved, her feet taking small steps backwards, away from him. He growled low in his mutated throat, now dry as before he'd fed, and then he leapt up onto the brick wall, crawling towards her, moving like a spider.

He watched her eyes widen in terror, shock, her feet moving faster, moving wider, her steps taking her farther away even as he came closer. He watched as she suddenly turned, about to scream, and he lunged. He landed before her, quickly walking up to her, one hand clamping over her mouth, the other grabbing her neck.

There was fear all around, in her eyes, in her breath as it hit his hand, in her trembling body, in her scent. It made him sick and hungry at the same time, as if he would throw up the moment he ate, but he needed to eat. There was confusion and disbelief as well, there was a silent, wordless plea, echoed in her muffled whimpers.

She reeked of fear and drugs and semen and fresh blood under warm flesh. Her heart could be heard, music to his ears, the humming of her veins calling to him, but she was warm. Not like he was, not feverish, not scalding, but she was still warm.

Nomak wanted cold. He wanted that sweet, cool blood that vampires possessed inside their bodies. He wanted to rip out her throat and drink from her, but she was warm, her blood wasn't good enough to give him any relief. Perhaps for a few seconds, but she wasn't worth it.

The girl was still trembling, still whimpering in his hands, her arms between their bodies, trying to push him away from her, but his hands only tightened roughly, and he pressed her closer. She stared up at him in wide, glassy eyed fear, even as he leaned down, sniffing her.

"Pretty little thing. Or you would be. You would be if you weren't so far gone to your drug," he whispered, his voice rough, gravelly, and his throat protested, aching and burning and telling him not to talk, but he ignored it. "That dark make-up makes you look more sickly than you are, than you are right now, anyway," he continued, his eyes looking over her face, her hair, down her body, something tugging at him.


Please don't kill me, please don't kill me. I want to live. God, if there's a God, let me live through tonight. I'll find a clinic or rehab or whatever, I'll give up this drug, just let me live. My life's nothing, it's barely a life even to me, but it's my life, and I'm not ready, I don't want to die.

Zita tried to speak, tried to plea, but she couldn't have formed the words had her mouth not been covered, so it was useless to try and form them when her fear and his hand wouldn't let them out.

He wasn't human. He couldn't be human, not after what she had witnessed. She had never believed in the supernatural, but now she was starting to, because he couldn't be human. He barely held any resemblance to a human, how could he be human, the way he looked, the way he moved?

She felt her heart race inside her chest, pounding so hard she was afraid she would die of a heart attack or her heart might even pound its way out of her chest. She barely registered his words, but once her mind made them clear to her, she whimpered, feeling her eyes moisten and burn with tears. She didn't know what he was planning, but he sounded like one of those psychos in the movies, the ones Mama always warned her about.

And she had laughed her mother off. She had promised her mother she would stay a good girl, free of drugs, away from prostitution, out of harm's way. Now look where she was.

"Please," she whimpered, barely aware she had gotten a coherent word out, though his hand muffled it, making it harder to tell she had been successful at last. She could tell her had heard her, understood her though, his hand loosen, though the one around her neck was still tight.

His hand around her throat still tight, making it hard for her to breath, especially since she was panting hard with fear, he stared down at her, eyes lowering, probably looking at what his hand had been covering, not getting that part of her studied during his first look over. His gaze made her shudder and fear the worst, but he showed no signs of acting on any sick impulses.

"Please, I won't tell anyone. I don't even know who you are. And the police would never believe me anyway," she whispered in English, her voice shaking like the last leaf on a tree in winter. Her body shook as pathetically as well, but she didn't care. She couldn't stop herself. She was just thankful she had been able to remember her English well enough.


Nomak listened to her plea, his eyes taking in what his hand had covered, and then his gaze returned to her shining eyes, wet from her terror. He tilted his head, sniffed her again. He knew she was right - he had a good idea she probably would be arrested, not listened to.

But he didn't let her go yet. He studied her, took her in. Part of him wanted to know how she worked, what made her the way she was. Why had she let herself become dependant on such a harmful substance, why had she let herself sink to this level? He wanted to understand, he wanted to comprehend her.

"We're so different, yet so alike," he murmured, leaning down and sniffing her neck. He felt her stiffen, whimper. He looked up, saw her eyes were clenched, tiny droplets of water trickling from each eye. He snarled and shoved her on the ground, panting hard with anger. He stared down at her in contempt, then looked away, motioning with his hand for her to leave.

"I won't follow you. None of the other will either," he assured her as he stared up at the sky, unable to look at her, look at her fear of him. "Just get up and run, and don't look back," he instructed, and he heard her scramble away and up, panting and whimpering and nearly crying from relief and lingering fear.

He didn't watch her as she ran past him, ran as fast as he imagined she could, leaving him, leaving the dead drug dealer, leaving Nomak in his confusion and his hunger and his ache.


Zita did as the man had told her, not questioning, just running. She never looked back, no curiosity in her body, only fear and the desperate need to get away. She prayed to the God her mother had worshipped that she wouldn't be followed, that he would keep his word.

She ran until her body hurt, giving out with exhaustion as she reached her shabby home, falling to her knees in front of the rundown complex. She panting and cried, her whole body aching as her fear induced adrenaline left her, leaving her weak and drained.

There were a million questions in her head, so much confusion, but she didn't think on it. She couldn't. She couldn't think about him, about what had happened. She couldn't think about the way he'd held her and looked at her and spoken to her, sending chills through her body, making her want to cry and puke and run and scream.

Whatever ever reason had led him to let her go, she was thankful for it. But she wasn't going to try and figure it out. She was lucky to be alive. She had been heard, she had been spared. Maybe this was her second chance. Maybe now she could finally get the courage and strength to quit, to stop, to get herself some help.

The sound of someone approaching made her tense, head jerking up and wide eyes looking to see if he had lied to her. But she saw it was only a normal looking man, human and coming towards her with a concerned expression.

"Are you well?" the man asked in her native tongue, and Zita nodded, sagging with relief as he came towards her, kneeling down. He looked her ever, noticing the bruising on her neck. "Were you attacked?" he asked, and she shook her head.

It was an obvious lie, but one she had to tell.

The man didn't believe her, she knew, but he didn't press her with anymore questions. He examined her neck, told her he was a doctor who came into that area. He was a good Samaritan she supposed. Until his eyes changed, until he bared his teeth, until he lunged for her neck.

She screamed, struggling to get away but she was weak, tired, drained, drugged, and his was inhumanly strong, almost as strong as the other being. She whimpered and screamed for help, help that would never come, not in that part of the city. She closed her eyes, praying it would be quick, and then she heard him grunt, felt him being yanked away.

Zita opened her eyes, fear and confusion in them, and she saw the man on the ground, and she saw, she saw him standing over the vampire, then he was down on him, feeding on the vampire like some sick form of poetic justice.


Nomak drank from the vampire, drank hungrily, eagerly. He had never intended to follow, he had never intended to be near that wretched girl again, but he'd caught the scent of the vampire. His hunger had won out over his disgust with the girl.

He was thankful he had gotten over his disgust and contempt though. He was thankful he had followed, arriving there before the vampire had left, in time to yank him off the girl and drink his fill. He ignored her, his entire being focused on feeding, on finding relief of his own. He felt the last of the vampire's blood enter his system, leaving the vampire dry and dead, already starting to turn.

With disappointment that all the relief he could get had already been gotten, Nomak removed his face from the vampire's neck, letting his mouth close up before he turned, facing the girl. He stood up, towering over her again, but she stared up at him with more confusion than fear right now.

Despite himself, he returned the confused look. He stared back at her, wondering why he hadn't done the smart thing and waited for the vampire to feed on her, possibly turning her. Perhaps he didn't want to take the chance her warmth would warm the vampire enough to spoil Nomak's brief reprieve from the fever in his body. Still, it didn't make sense.

It wasn't like he cared. Nomak didn't possess the capacity to care. He hated her. He felt contempt and disgust for her, for her fear and her whimpering body and the way she found him repulsive and the way he wanted to sniff her and find out what drove her.

"Get inside," he ordered, wiping the blood from his mouth. "Get inside and get to your apartment, and don't come out till sunrise," he told her, speaking without really understanding his words and his motivations.

The girl nodded and hurriedly rose, moving towards the door. But then she came towards him, looking at the vampire and then at him, and through her fear and her confusion, she muttered a thank you in her native language, and then she ran inside. Her words lingered long after she had disappeared into the building.

Nomak stared at the door, hearing nothing but her thank you, her words that made him feel like maybe he wasn't a lowlife himself. He stayed still for several moments, then walked away, knowing the vampire would be fully turned in moments, following him, like all the others. Desperate for blood, like him and all the others. He didn't wait around though, he didn't pay attention to the others as they came to him, hungry, mindless, vampiric zombies.

Maybe he'd done it for the thank you.