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Every Thorn Has Its Rose by Raeann

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Author's Chapter Notes:
Carla (Whipcracker), Frost, 'Reap, and Sammy for always writing, all the Hair Metal lovers, and the Grim Reaper from Bill And Ted's Bogus Journey.
So they threw me in the fire. No big deal. I've been through worse. Let's see: impalement, stakes, sunlight, UV light, clubs, electricity, knives, guns, ropes, even a cannon once. I could go on forever. I have to laugh at that. See, I'm a vampire, a master, one of the originals, and I've been around a lot longer than even my boys knew. Longer than even *she* knew.

Never had the chance there.

I digress. It all boils down to this-I am a vampire in spirit form. I've inhabited various bodies until corporeal death. Then I assume a new one by destroying its current spirit. I'd been with the Max body for nearly a century. I grew rather fond of the awkward gait, the glasses (they were merely decorative as I possess magnificent eyesight), the crooked-toothed grin, and the gently aging skin. We worked well together. But there was something missing. And a few months ago, I found her.

And then, I lost her.

Yes, I'd had many women prior, but none had radiated the purity of this creature. And her name-perfection. Sweet Lucy, like the maiden in Stoker's quaint tale, Dracula. I loved the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled (oh that smile), her singsong voice, her delicate hands. And her soul-eternity should have been ours. Yes, she would have made a marvelous killer. Once trained, of course. But now, well, I've been "haunting" her home. I have taken up residence within her bedroom, and have been relishing her intakes of breath as she slumbers, the way she mumbles and sighs. It's been three months since her father viciously tore through my abdomen with the largest stake I've ever succumbed to. He says it wasn't intentional, but the old man tells lies. We go way back, and I know he's a backstabber. Ha! Back Stabber!

I apologize. My mind wanders when it hasn't been attached to flesh. As I was saying I've been residing in the Haven/Emerson house, ruminating, sometimes sulking, always longing. I truly cannot believe I was outwitted by those imbeciles. Ah, but it was my emotions. I did love her. I *do* love her. Sweet Lucy. I likened her to an herb called, if I'm not mistaken the "Kent Beauty". The way their beauty lovingly cascades, how they both scream of sun-love, how sweet they smell. And the fact that once its leaves are crushed, it smells even stronger, makes me shudder. That strength. I sensed it in her. I admit, I was greedy. However, I was eager to begin a new chapter in my life with her, and if necessary, her dim-witted spawn. (Though how dim can they be, they defeated *me*?)

Except I'm here in the room, the wondrous Lucy-scented room, while she entertains a new man downstairs in the dining area. Imagine. My body is three months cold and she's already dating again. And when she utters my name (which is rare) she shivers, and grits her perfect teeth, and places her fair hand to her mouth whispering, "Oh no, never. Please. He was nothing. Wasn't he?"

Nothing? Surely she'd change her tune if she'd known of my love for her. But that damn dreaded night. All my plans. If only I'd told her. She would have sensed it. So intuitive, was she. She would have sensed and *known*, without the use of trickery, or the lure of the blood and lies which the boys were only too fond of. She would have known, and she would have been mine. Triumphant. Could she not see how faithful I was? How respectful and caring? I had been foolish, somehow. Maybe I'd been with Max for too long.

But that won't happen again.


I stand before her vanity. Turn my new head left and right. I crack the neck. Ahhh. Much looser. I am younger now, with thick black hair, crisp green eyes. I straighten my tie with long capable fingers. Prominent veins and a decades old scar hug my new hands. I am not as tall, but my body has been better managed. No protruding gut or unsightly handles of love around the middle.


I smile. Ah, how refreshing to have such a fine row of teeth. Larger mouth, too. Lots of room. Easier to eat my prey. I'm distracted by my new body's former occupant, glowing furiously from under the bed. I reach under to him, push my own sturdy spirit into his, then around his neck. I twist it.

"I don't have time for this," I berate him. My voice is low, irritated, and in possession of a slight Southern accent. His light fades and carefully I scoop him into my arms, and then into my new mouth.


I pause. How comical I look with a spirit stuffed halfway into my face.

"Eh?" I swallow. "Er, yes?"

"Are you coming? Dinner's ready."

I sigh, a smile on my lips, and a bulge in my pants.

"It certainly is. Lucy."


We both lie silently still in the dead of the night
Although we both lie close together
We feel miles apart inside
Was it something I said or something I did
Did my words not come out right
Tho' I tried not to hurt you
Tho' I tried
But I guess that's why they say

Every rose has its thorn
Just like every night has its dawn
Just like every cowboy sings his sad, sad song
Every rose has its thorn
(Yeah it does.)

I listen to our favorite song playin' on the radio
Hear the DJ say love's a game of easy come and easy go
But I wonder does he know
Has he ever felt like this
And I know that you'd be here right now
If I could have let you know somehow I guess

Every rose has its thorn
Just like every night has its dawn
Just like every cowboy sings his sad, sad song
Every rose has its thorn.

Though it's been a while now
I could still feel so much pain
Like a knife that cuts you
The wound heals but the scar that scar remains.

I know I could have saved our love that night
If I'd known what to say
Instead of making love
We both made our separate ways.

And now I hear you've found somebody new
And that I never meant that much to you
To you that tears me up inside
And to see you cuts me like a knife.
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