A/N: Taken from Blade: The Series. Spoilers only for the Pilot (Both parts) T for Violence, Language, Gore, and general creepyness. This is my first Blade story, so please review! Thanks :)

Disclaimer: I own not Blade. Or the Series. Ana-Marie is mine, however. Wish Marcus was too.

Late again.

I could just hear Mom say it: "Late again, Ana-Marie." I knew it was coming. I was supposed to be home about an hour ago. An hour ago, the sun would have just been setting. An hour ago, the drug dealers and hookers wouldn't have been out.

I flipped my collar up and hurried by men who leered at me. They were there in every alley, it seemed. I picked up my pace, huddling in my black coat. The tank top I wore was suitable for the weather before dark but now the red cloth was little protection from the chill. My jeans were ice against my legs. I was tempted to let my long, dark hair down against the chill. Fine straight whips had escaped my braid, and hovered in front of my vision. My boots clicked against the pavement. The high-heels were perfect for hanging out with Jesse. Now, they were simply impractical.

"Hey, sweetheart!" A man stepped in front of me, hands in his coat pockets. I drew up short. He grinned with yellowed and crooked teeth. I turned to walk the other way, and he followed. I walked faster and faster, but he matched me step for step. Soon I was running, but he caught up to me and seized me around the waist.

I screamed, and, of all things, a black limo pulled up.

My captor and I were equally startled. The back window rolled down with automated smoothness, and the most gorgeous man I had ever seen in the flesh looked back at me. The thug let go of me, and backed away. I heard him dash off, his feet slapping the damp pavement. I sighed, and shivered. The man in the car smiled.

"Thanks. I owe you." I laughed, and held out my hand. He reached through the open window and took it, still smiling, and gave it a vigorous shake. I released my grip, but he did not loosen his. I swallowed. Hard. This was not a good turn of events. He smiled wider, and I gasped. Fangs. I had seen fangs. They weren't just canines. Too long for that. Shit. This guy was some "Vampire" wannabe. He probably wanted some young meat to "feed" on. That was pathetic.

I looked past him, into the limo. There was a woman with him. A dark-haired beauty. I felt my face growing hot. First, the most amazing guy I've seen face-to-face saves me, and then sitting right next to him is the girl of my dreams. It was my night. He gave a tug on my arm. Or, maybe it was not my night after all.

"Come, join us." He beckoned with the other hand. I shook my head.

"I need to go home."

He nodded. "It is late."

I opened my mouth again, but he let go of my sweaty palm. I stepped back and he opened the car door. I felt my eyes widen, and then I was shoved roughly from behind. I yelped as I was pulled into the limo, and I fought and kicked and bit until arms like steel held me in place.

I was in a lap. I looked up at a petite little blonde, who was holding me down with a light touch. I began to tremble. I strained, but the few fingers she used were more than enough tlo nail me in place. Vampires. They were real. And I was just kidnapped by them. Oh, God.

I bit my lip as the platinum blonde woman smiled at me, and ran her hand lovingly down my face, down my neck to where my shirt began. She took a fistful of it and ripped it off, and I gasped as the cool air of the limo hit my skin. I hollered, loud as I could, but the man (whose legs I was also sprawled across) only smiled. "Soundproof. Scream all you want." I choked on my next yell.

He ran his hands over my stomach and lightly nicked me with a nail. I gasped in fear and pleasure, and he swiped up the growing droplet of blood with a fingertip. He leaned over and brushed it against the blonde's lips, and she obligingly licked it off his hand. The brunette only watched. I squirmed. A hand clamped down on my chest, in between my breasts, holding me still. "There, there, now"

The man turned to the brunette. "Krista, please do the honors, if you would." She nodded, hesitantly, and slid over the man to kneel on the floor of the backseat next to my hips. She leaned over me, her breath fast and shallow. Her eyes shifted, suddenly, from hazel to a blue so clear I could see the bottom of the ocean in them.

"Vampire?" I squeaked. She looked at me with sad, cerulean eyes and nodded. I closed my eyes as she buried her head in my throat. Oh God Oh God Oh God Oh God … I had dreamed of this, wanted this from the moment I knew about the vampire legend. I wanted immortality. It was here, within my grasp. I just wasn't prepared for the coming trial.

The teeth sank in, and my whole world turned into a vortex of pain. I wasn't a particularly bad girl. I never got involved in gangs, didn't do drugs. I never had been shot. The worst I ever had was when I cut myself while peeling potatoes. Skinned a good inch off. I screamed then, too.

That was NOTHING compared to this.

I screeched, and she clutched me tighter. "I'm so sorry," She whispered, her voice thick with my blood. "Please, forgive me." I only continued to cough and weep, heavy liquid rolling down my chin. It hurt; hurt so bad I have no words to describe it. "Ouch" just doesn't cover it. Not by half.

I heard a male voice, far off and distorted. I couldn't see straight. The roof of the car slipped in and out of focus. All of a sudden another weight pressed in on me, and a second head was nuzzling my throat. The second bite and tear came, and I choked on my own juices as I tried to let my pain out with a scream. It occurred to me, as they pulled away, that not everyone became a vampire. They didn't kill just to procreate, but to feed. I let out a cry of frustration. I was food, and I was going to die at sixteen.

One last tear of despair rolled down my cheek, and my world went black.

I dreamed.

I knew it was a dream. It was one of those that you can just tell, when the monster sneaks up on you and screams "Happy Birthday!" Then you're like: "Oh, yeah. Dream." I get those a lot.

I was walking through my house. There was no one home, and I wandered through hallways too long to be real. I knew it was a dream. I wasn't scared. I was, however, a little ashamed. I was wearing pink. Pink and white. Not my norm at all. Worse yet, it was a dress. A frilly affair that looked like it belonged on Alice in Wonderland, not on sixteen-year-old Ana-Marie.

I found my room, and stepped inside. The carpet squelched underfoot. I looked down in surprise, only to see my favorite teddy bear. Coy, I'd named him. He stared up at me, little brown-furred arms clutching his chest. His thread smile was contorted into a frown. I looked closer, and nearly threw up when I realized what he was doing. There was a slash in his stomach, and he was holding in innards that had nothing to do with stuffing. He stared, glassy-eyed. I swallowed revulsion and fear, and lifted my gaze to the rest of the room.

My collection of stuffed animals was everywhere, slaughtered. They were strewn about, in various states of gore and agony. I went to lift my hands to my face, when I noticed it. Something was in my hand. I looked down, and I was holding a knife. My pink and white dress was covered in blood; so covered it was black with it. The teddy bears and unicorns looked at me with sad glass eyes, accusing. It was you.

I looked out of the open window, into the night sky. It was as black as my dress. Except, with little stars that winked at me. I pointed the knife to my chest, and yanked down, ripping cloth. I shed my sticky clothing, letting it drop in a wet pile on the red carpet. I didn't want it anymore. I was done here. I clutched the knife, though. I would probably need it later.

Without looking back, I jumped through the window and into a candlelit room full of silent figures. There was a dance in the center of the room, and wildly painted … things pranced and slinked, moving towards a cross in the center. I made my way to the cross, and the figure tied to it.

At first I thought it was Christ. As I drew closer, through the ghostly mob of silently seated men and women and brightly painted… creatures, I saw that it wasn't Christ at all. It was a man-- no, a woman-- no, the man again...

The face on the figure shifted, the features swirling and becoming blurry, then sharpening only to blur again. A handsome man, a beautiful woman, one light, one dark. They turned their head to look at me, and called out in a desperate voice that was not male or female, "Kill me!"

I reached out to them, reached out to ease their pain, when a hand caught my own and my eyes shot open.

I was staring into the face of my murderer.