The second time I saw the vampire was in a quiet forest I’d found - a good place for hunting mice and rabbits. He was sitting on the bank of the moonlit river, calm and motionless... - meditating perhaps? I remembered his copper gaze and went to sit beside him.
“What was your name, girl?” he asked, startling me.
‘S-Sam,’ I replied, a little hesitantly. ‘Yours?’
“Dean,” he answered, surprising me with his willingness to share this piece of information.
Dean stood up, gazing out into the night. His casually poised profile against the night and his unthreatening aura seemed to convey that he was a force of invitation - maybe not so different from Death - and I suddenly blurted out, ‘May I come as well?’
Amongst the shadows across his face, I caught a smile of amusement.
“If you like,” he told me, sounding totally indifferent. Yet my heart leapt for joy. How many more times would I be able to see his copper eyes? And there seemed so many possibilities on this random night. He may become attractive to me in other ways.
I rose to my feet.
Dean started walking. I followed in silence though after a few moments, I remembered to think, ‘Thank you,’ so that Dean wouldn’t think me impolite.
Dean chuckled, as if gratefulness was something rather quaint about humans that never found its way into his attitudes towards situations.
In the morning we were halfway up the river bed and Dean caught me a fish. It filled me with pride to be his sort of ... companion.
He waited patiently for me to finish what I could eat of the fish and then led me to the nearest village where he entranced a young man and drank his blood in a deserted alley. He looked dissatisfied afterwards, like he had with the first woman I had seen him drink from on the first occasion I had seen him. It didn’t seem to faze me anymore, that his food source was my species. Perhaps that was due to the fact that every time my thoughts wandered along that path, they were interrupted by a memory of copper eyes. So I walked along behind him wherever he went, merrily thinking of myself as ‘Dean’s companion’. I even thought he could be disguising some affection he felt for him for some silly demonic behaviour-related reason, and that he felt guilty for the false appearances but there was nothing he could do about it.
It took a week for me to realise that companion didn’t stretch as far as friend and that Dean was as cold as he had been indifferent to me joining him on his travels. But by then it was too late. I was enamoured of him. And my sorry heart chained itself to him and wouldn’t let me try to free it. What an unhappy state of affairs.