Pitch Perfect 1. Chapter 1

Title: A Thousand Years

Pairing: Donald/Stacie

Summary: He hasn't been human for so long, that he doesn't even remember what it was like… But when he's with her, he remembers what it's like to be human. He feels things that only humans can feel… And maybe it's wishful thinking on his part, but he swears he even felt his heart, beat. And he knows, that he'll spend the rest of his life loving her.

A/N: Hello, dear readers! Okay, I noticed how every Stonald fanfic never strays far from the setting and storyline of the Pitch Perfect movie… but as I was scanning through my ipod, I found myself listening to _A Thousand Years _by Christina Perri. It's an awesome song by the way, so if you haven't heard it before, look it up. Anyway, as I was listening to the song, I remembered how it was played at the ending of the Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn 2, and I suddenly had this plot running through my head, and I could totally picture Donald being a vampire, and I kind of just started writing it… and this story is what I ended up with. It's not finished, and it will probably have plenty of other chapters, but it's a start, and I always finish what I start. I know I should be working on 'One Day At A Time' which is already up on here, but my mind won't let this plot go. So after writing this first chapter, I reread it, and realized that it was good enough to be posted on FFn, and here it is! I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

-Sux2budude

* * *

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Pitch Perfect.

-DS-

* * *

…

Donald Walsh. No middle name, no nickname, no real identity. He's taken on different looks and appearances. But he _always _uses his mortal name. It's the only thing he can remember about his mortal self; his human self. Six hundred fifty eight years ago in 1354, Donald Walsh was murdered in the worst way possible. He doesn't remember much about the night he died. Just little flashes here and there, and nothing more. He does, however, remember feeling excruciating pain running through his body as he was dying. He remembers looking into the glowing red eyes of the creature that turned him. He was only 23 when it happened. He remembers the immense hunger that surged through him when he opened his eyes again. The thirst for blood that rushed through him as he crawled out of his grave. He remembers drinking from the first human being he laid eyes on. A man, no older than himself, leaving a local pub. He hadn't stopped, or even paused to think of what he was about to do. All he knew, was that he _needed _that man's blood. He needed it the way a normal human being needs their next breath. He remembers the guilt, the pain, and the dread that hit him like a freight train as the man's cold, dead body slumped to the ground after he had drained him. He remembers the horrified look on the man's face as he had lunged for the man's throat. He remembers the feeling of hatred and disgust at himself after he disposed of the man's body. It was the first and last human being he had ever drunk from. After that, he had nearly gone insane, having to resist the temptation of human blood. It was intoxicating. A smell so potent, he could practically taste it. But he resisted it, choosing to feed off of animals. Bears, tigers, lions, cows, sheep, goats, chickens, pigs, and other living animals. It's the least he could do not to kill another human being. As for turning someone, it's out of the question. He wouldn't wish a fate like his, on his worst enemy. Albeit, he doesn't remember any of his enemies from his human life.

Immortality. It's not what everyone pegs it to be. It's lonely. Boring, and dull. When one has lived over six-hundred years, one has had quite some time to see the world. And yes, he's seen it all. War, love, hate, sadness, famines, natural disasters, crime, heroism, drugs, alcohol, and sex. He's seen it all. He's traveled the world, and seen everything one would wish to see. He's lived in eighteen different countries in his lifetime. He has houses and businesses in nine of those countries. He personally likes his home in New York, Manhattan. He owns a rather large condo there, overlooking the city, and it feels like home more than all his other homes.

Donald Walsh stares out the window of his condo as he leans back in his seat, enjoying the sun in his face. The 'myth' about vampires disintegrating when in direct contact with the sun is true. For other vampires. Donald himself, doesn't know or understand why, but he is completely unharmed by the sun. He's seen vampires go up in flames and turn to ashes right in front of him. But he stays completely unharmed. And no, he doesn't sparkle like that Edward Cullen character in the Twilight series. As for holy water? It's a myth. Holy water, is actually just water, and unless vampires descended from cats, they're completely unharmed by it. Crosses also do nothing to them. And a wooden stake through the heart? Can totally kill vampires, but then again, what creature wouldn't die from being stabbed through the heart? The only true stories about vampires are, that they're immortal, extremely fast and strong, they never have to sleep, they heal fast, and they drink blood to live. And yes, they eat normal food, but could go forever without it, unlike blood. They'd die after three days without drinking blood. It's a vampire's food. To a Vampire, human food is like a guilty pleasure. It's one of the many things they don't _need_, but can't help but want. And human food never tasted so good until you've become a vampire. Chocolate can be quite addicting. The taste of chocolate to a human is increased ten thousand fold when you're a vampire. Each taste is better, richer, and much tastier than the last.

He likes to think of himself as the only one of his kind. And sometimes, he thinks he might truly be the only one of his kind left on earth. He hasn't met another vampire_ like_ himself in his long six-hundred-fifty-eight years of existence, so it's quite easy to believe. He is unharmed by the sun. He's given up on searching for vampires like himself, two-hundred years ago. Now, he's just living. Existing. Roaming the earth, blending in with the mortals… And searching for _her_.

He has a special ability, sort of seeing bits and pieces of the future. It's confusing, and disturbing. And it's never good visions, considering the fact that all he's seen are visions of different mortals dying. The first time it happened, he was only a decade into immortality, and he thought it was just a weird dream, but then the man he saw in his vision was on the Daily News the very next week, supposedly murdered in an alleyway by something inhumane… and anything inhumane is either a werewolf, a fairy (through fairies cannot kill; they heal), a wild animal, or a vampire. Donald never sees _how _the mortals die. He just sees the person _dying. _It's dark, and cold, and… painful to see. He's had his fair share of life saving, starting from the second vision he had. He's traveled all over the world, saving these mortals in his visions, and for 400 years, he's been quite successful in his missions to save mortal lives, and killing off the _Uglies_. It's what the human-blood sucking vampires. And no, the Uglies aren't just called uglies because they're ruthless monsters. They're called uglies, because they _really are_ ugly. Hideous. They have dark red, glowing eyes, extremely long, razor-sharp fangs, ginormous jaws, huge heads, and slits for nostrils. And they're deathly pale. Whereas he himself is naturally brown skinned, he has a somewhat pale complexion. But the uglies, are terribly hideously pale. And they smell terrible. Like a fifty-year old laundry consisting of dirty, smelly, old socks and underwears, and the smell of decaying flesh. You see, the more human-blood a vampire consumes, the uglier they become. So, as a vampire, Donald never drinks human blood. One, he values his face too much to become as hideous as those things. Two, he doesn't want to smell like a dead carcass. Three, he can't handle the pain, guilt, and agony of knowing that he killed an innocent person because of his thirst for blood. And last, he doesn't drink human-blood because he can't. He made a promise to himself that he'd never drink a drop of human blood… for _her. _

His life was miserable from all his visions of dying mortals… until his vision of her.

For the first time since his visions of mortals dying began, he gets his first vision of her. The year was 1760, and he was in the kitchen of his home in Ireland when it happened. He remembers feeling dizzy like when he's about to have a vision, and he dreads seeing another death so soon after he'd just return from saving another mortal from dying. But then, he feels something he's never felt before. A sort of warm, tingly feeling inside his chest. He felt it right before he fell into the vision. He feels his body shiver as a girls face appears in the darkness. She was beautiful. Her dark hair cascades down her back in waves as she smiles straight at him. Her eyes, the most beautiful shade of brown he's ever seen in his life, crinkle slightly at the corners as her radiant smile widens, and Donald could barely contain the feeling in his chest as he stares at her. He swears he's never seen a beauty so divine and pure as hers. Her voice is soft, soothing, yet it holds the slightest hint of urgency, "Will you find me?" is all she asks before she vanishes into thin air, and the vision is over. Donald jerks into consciousness, his eyes scanning around his kitchen. It's the first vision he's ever had of something that isn't death. He's panting, and he's bleeding around his knee where he toppled into a glass cabinet during his vision. He's bled a thousand times before, but for the first time since becoming a vampire, he doesn't heal instantly like all the other times, and he receives his first permanent scar. After that vision, he searches for her, high and low, and everywhere… but he never finds her. And he never gives up. "I _will_ find you." He mutters to himself. He says it every time he has visions of her. But he's never been successful… Not yet.

-DS-

* * *

-August 15, 2012-

…

Stacie Conrad stretches her arms over her head as she yawns blissfully in her bed. She smiles a little, remembering what day it is today. Her first day of college at Barden University. It's no Yale, or Harvard, or Stanford, but it's good enough for her. She loves her parents and everything, but she's extremely glad to finally be moving out of their house. Her parents have been constantly hovering over her, trying to control her. But today, she's going to be free. She's finally going to go out into the world and explore. Experience everything the world has to offer. She kicks her bed sheets back, slipping out of bed and padding quietly to her bathroom to shower. Today is a new day, and Stacie smiles excitedly as she steps under the warm spray of water, humming "Roar" by Katy Perry to herself. Yes. She's got the eye of the tiger, and the whole world will hear her roar… metaphorically, that is.

…

When she steps onto campus, she immediately feels the rush of excitement surging through her veins. College Life. It's what every teen looks forward to. Well, at least that's what Stacie Conrad has been looking forward to. Getting wasted at 2a.m and waking up in some strangers bed, attending sorority parties, meeting new people, dating hot, sexy, muscular guys who are older than her, skipping boring classes and sleeping in whenever the hell she wanted, making new friends, and living life to the fullest. It's what she wanted, needed… craved. She bumps into a girl, a few inches shorter than her, with dark brown hair. Almost like chocolate. Stacie smiles at her, receiving one in return. "Hi." Stacie says, taking in the girls equally confused look, and the luggage she's dragging behind her, and immediately, she decides to start making friends. "I'm Stacie." She says, holding out an outstretched hand.

"Becca." The girl says with a kind smile, taking her hand and shaking it. "I'm guessing you're new here too?" the girl eyes Stacie's duffle bag and luggage.

Stacie nods, "Yep. I'm gonna be settled in at room 209." She's spontaneous that way, never really having to know someone to trust them. One look at a person and Stacie can instantly tell whether they're trustworthy or not. And this one, Becca, seems like someone she could be friends with.

Becca glances down at the piece of paper in her hand, grinning widely. "What a coincidence!"

"What do you mean?" Stacie inquires.

Becca holds up the piece of paper in front of Stacie so she could see for herself. "I'm your new roomie."

"Awesome. I was hoping I'd get someone who at least _looks_ normal if they're gonna be weird, not that you're weird or anything like that… are you?"

Becca chuckles a little as they start pulling their bags with them. "No, nothing weird about me. Unless you think music is weird because I'm seriously into hip hop, rap, r&b, soul, that kinda stuff. I do mashups, mixes, and other D.J. stuff."

Stacie grins wider, "Are you kidding me? I love music! I live on that stuff. Can you imagine a world without music? It'd be pretty damn boring."

"Yeah, no. Never really liked to imagine up a music-less world. It's… Yikes." Becca widens her eyes in exaggeration.

Stacie can't help but let out a relieved sigh. "Becca, I think we're gonna be awesome roomies."

"I agree."

-SD-

* * *

…

"What's the prognosis, Jerry?" Donald asks his dear old friend. Jerry, though not immortal or anything other than human, has been with him for nearly three decades, serving as a loyal and trustworthy 'butler' and friend. He's the only human being who knows what Donald is. A Vampire. Jerry is Donald's right hand man. And though he'd love to have Jerry around forever, he couldn't bring himself to turn his dear friend. You see, Vampires, are strange creatures. You can want one thing when you're human, mortal, and you have a deadline you don't see coming. But when you're a Vampire, immortal, and you don't have a deadline because you live forever, you can easily become selfish, hurtful, murderous, and quite evil. Donald's seen it countless times from other Vampires he used to know… Namely, Luke Ryder, a former friend and colleague, who… turned to the dark side.… And though Jerry is a good man, Donald knows what kind of man Jerry could become. Jerry is quiet, but very devious. Jerry was the brains behind Donald's countless encounters with business. Yes, being a vampire has heightened his senses, his strength, and his physical state, but Donald still has a bit of that human dislike for business that he had when he was mortal. So he leaves his many businesses to Jerry, even asking Jerry to be the face of the business, which means that Jerry is rather famous in the U.S, Russia, Germany, Turkey, Africa, Australia, China, Korea, Japan, and all the other places where Donald has a business. Jerry's face is the face that every reporter, journalist, business adversaries, and other people sees when meeting the owner of the businesses. He's the CEO. Donald owns it, and Jerry runs it. So you can see why turning Jerry isn't the best idea.

Donald waits patiently for Jerry to go over the documents in the portfolio in front of him before the man finally answers.

"Georgia, sir."

"Georgia?" Donald asks disbelievingly. "As in the United States, Georgia?"

"The only one." Jerry confirms.

Donald could barely contain his excitement and happiness. He's been on this search mission for over two centuries. "And you're sure this time?"

Jerry nods, "Quite positive." Jerry takes a newspaper article from the portfolio in his hands and passes it to Donald, who takes it confusedly.

His eyes widen like saucers when he sees the photo on the newspaper. It's a black and white photo of three girls, and she's in it. It's kind of blurry, but it's her. He knows it. He spends the next few minutes in silence, staring at the photo of her smiling widely into the camera in a dark red graduation gown, next to a couple of other girls, and holding a piece of paper in her hands. Her eyes sparkle with excitement and joy, and Donald could barely contain his joy at finally seeing proof that she really exists, and that unlike all his previous butlers had said, he hadn't made her up in his mind. She exists. "We found her." Donald whispers softly, barely able to believe it. His eyes scan over the article, and hover momentarily over the title of the article: _Local graduates gather together after receiving Scholarships into different Universities._

_Julia Niles (left), Harmony Ortiz (middle), and Stacie Conrad (right)._

"Stacie Conrad." Donald whispers softly as his eyes continue to hover over her beautiful smiling face. "Two-hundred years, and I've finally found you."

Donald looks up quickly. "What's her exact location?"

Jerry shuffles through the papers in his hands for a few minutes, before finally answering. "Atlanta, Georgia, Barden University."

"Have Aubrey wait for my arrival tomorrow. I'm going to need a vehicle."

"Tomorrow? Isn't that a bit early?"

Donald blinks at Jerry, "I've searched for her for _years_, Jerry. I'd much rather leave right now, but I have to be ready first." He doesn't wait as he strolls towards the door to his room. He needs to get ready tonight, and tomorrow, he'll move. And he doesn't need a car. He's faster than any creature that roams the earth, but he has to look the part of rich, foreign, exchange student.

-SD-

* * *

…

The next morning, Donald finalizes his new identity. An old-fashioned college student at the Barden University. Hacking into the Barden University System was almost too easy for Donald as he purposely entered himself into the school system as a Senior exchange student from Istanbul, Turkey. He's going in disguised as a twenty-three year old student, majoring in Music and Art. It's not his strongest suit, but Donald thinks he'll have a bit of fun being a Music and Art Major. After printing out his personally attained schedule, Donald sticks it into a portfolio before stuffing the portfolio into his new backpack. If he's gonna be a student, he's gonna have to live, breathe, eat, think, sleep, and learn like a student. If he blows his cover, he can always go back in, disguised as a school janitor, or an instructor. But he'd rather not mop urine inside a bathroom, or have to face a thousand people a day. Surely those students would notice that he looks _way_ too young to be a teacher; and while it's not impossible, it's still a bit trickier to manage a place in the school's staff. A student is his best and quickest option right now. Donald pulls on a pair of jeans; some black Nike's and a black fitted Nike t-shirt, and black-framed glasses for good measure, before slinging his backpack over his shoulder and stepping out of his room. He's not surprised to find Jerry waiting outside his door already, with a cup of pig's blood ready for him. "Thanks." Donald takes the mug from Jerry and heads towards the front doors.

"I see you're already in your disguise." Jerry observes.

"I don't look like I'm gonna stand out or anything, right?"

"Don, you're a vampire. You'll always stick out… but you're also a master of disguise. You'll blend in perfectly amongst those rowdy young teens."

Donald nods, a tiny grin sliding onto his lips as he takes a swig from his cup. Warm, sweet, and has a bit of a nasty aftertaste, but it immediately does its job in satisfying his thirst for blood somewhat. "Did you call Aubrey?"

"She's already waiting for you, with a newly purchased 2012 Ford Mustang." Jerry informs him, to which Donald smiles widely. Aubrey is a vampire herself, and though she's not immune to the sun, she still works in the safe confines of her guarded office. She's also Donald's best friend. They dated a while back, but decided that they weren't meant for each other. Mostly because Donald was basically in love with a girl he's never met, let alone seen before.

"Always ready, aren't you?"

"Always."

Donald nods, offering a temporary grin of goodbye. "I'll see you in a few months."

"I'll await your return."

Donald drains the rest of his breakfast before setting the mug on a tray by the door, and finally stepping outside. He immediately feels himself start to buzz with the need to take off, and he does nothing at all to stop himself as his legs start to move. Yes, he's traveling to Atlanta, Georgia, on foot. He picks up his pace as soon as he's made sure that no one was around to see him, and soon enough, Donald finds himself zooming through forests, the wind cutting past his face as he runs at the speed of light. Being around for so long, has given him more than enough time to test out his Vampire skills. His feet barely touch the ground, and to him, it feels like he's flying through the air, a mere inch from the ground. It's utterly amazing to be able to run like this. To be _so _fast, that he becomes absolutely invisible to the naked eye. And he's grown to love this feat. It's one of the many perks of being a vampire. It doesn't take long for him, but after about two hours or so, he finally screeches to an abrupt halt at the lines of Atlanta, Georgia. He has about a couple of miles before he reaches the Barden University, and Donald only stops to pick up his car from Aubrey, who hands him the keys immediately upon his arrival, and with no questions asked, or greetings, she storms back to her desk. He doesn't think much about what might be upsetting her because he doesn't want to waste any time in finally seeing the girl from his visions. He needs to immediately begin searching for her through thousands of students at Barden University, so Donald calls a short goodbye to Aubrey before hopping into the new mustang. It's a sleek black baby with sparkling rims, and an engine that roars louder than an angry lion. He allows himself a tiny grin as he pulls away from the parking lot of Aubrey's office building, and starts down the road to his destination, Barden University.

-DS-

* * *

…

"That is really cool." Stacie says as she eyes Becca's different mixes. It's the kind of music that would give you eargasms, and Stacie loves it. "How do you do all of this stuff?"

Becca shrugs, "I don't know, I guess the music just kind of… speaks to me, you know?"

Stacie nods, "Kind of like how designing speaks to me. It's like, I just look at a plain wall in a blue house, and I immediately know that it won't look better in anything other than gray." It makes total sense. To know so much about something, that you really have no idea how you do it. You just… know. It's like a sixth sense.

"Exactly!" Becca agrees. They're in the middle of the cafeteria, indulging in greasy pizzas and Kool-Aid Jammers.

Stacie feels extremely relived that Becca wasn't one of those super sensitive, girly, 'OMG!' girls who spend half their lunchtime counting the calories on their lunch plate. "So, I heard that there's this party at one of the sorority houses tonight. Care to join me?"

Becca looks a bit hesitant, but after sending her a pleading look, Becca smiles a bit. "I'll go if you promise to call us a cab when we're too drunk to drive back."

"Deal." Stacie says immediately. "That was _too _easy."

"How so?" Becca asks with a quirked eyebrow.

"Two words. Suspended. License." Stacie laughs, before devouring her last piece of pizza and throwing the whole crust back onto her plate. "Ugh, this pizza tastes like crap yet I can't stop eating it."

"Probably because you secretly love crappy food."

"You're right! You are so, right. I love crappy food. I hate it, but I love to eat it. It's like a weird craving that I want, but don't need."

"I feel you on that one." Becca mutters, patting her roomies back.

"Crappy food?" a blonde girl asks loudly from behind them. "What crappy food were you talking about?" she asks, sitting down beside Beca.

The two girls blink at her. "Uhhh, this pizza tastes like crap." Stacie says gesturing to her slice of pizza.

"Oh… Yeah, the cafeteria food always tastes like crap, but I still eat it." She shrugs, picking up her own slice of pizza and taking a huge chunk out of it. "I'm Fat Amy by the way."

Beca's eyebrows shoot up at that, "Fat Amy?" she asks slowly.

"Yup. Fat Amy… I call myself Fat Amy because pointing out the obvious about myself will certainly stifle whatever fat jokes you twig bitches may be saying about me."

Stacie busts out laughing, managing to make the whole cafeteria occupants turn and stare at her like she's crazy. She doesn't care though. "Well, Fat Amy, I think we'll get along just fine."

"Awesome." Fat Amy goes about eating her lunch, while Beca chuckles lightly. "So what do we call ourselves? The Triple Hotness?"

This makes Stacie and Beca laugh even harder, not having a care for the world. "Triple the hotness, triple the fun, triple the threat." Stacie shrugs. "We'll just be triplets."

* * *

-SD-

…

Donald steps onto the school campus, feeling the cool rush of excitement shooting through his body and brain as his eyes quickly scans through the different students walking around. He's graduated several times from different Universities. Harvard, Stanford, Yale, Phoenix, Devry, Browns, Tisch, and soon, Barden. It's quite amusing to sit through a class that he knows everything about. To pretend he doesn't know the answers to all the questions, and to pass as an above average student… He's mastered the art of forfeiting. He knows his limits, and his restrictions. He knows how to act the part of "average" student, so as a group of girls passes him, waving, winking, giggling, and batting their eyelashes, he remembers to smile and pretend that he's interested, though he's only interested in one girl… and he has yet to see her.

"Donnie boy!"

Donald stops abruptly, whirling around in disbelief when he recognizes the voice. "Bumper?" he asks, blinking at the guy he once called his best friend. "What the—"

"How are you doing, my old friend?" Bumper asks holding out his hand for a handshake.

Donald immediately backs away from him, shaking his head. "No… You don't get to just walk back into my life, acting like I never saw you die right before my eyes 12 years ago, Bumper… You need to explain first."

Bumper laughs heartily. "Dude, calm the hell down… I'll explain everything, later."

"No." Donald says with a shake of his head, grabbing Bumpers shirt and dragging him into an empty classroom. "Explain, now."

Bumper sighs heavily, both of them shrugging off their backpacks, "I see you still have that 'Trust no one' thing going on."

Donald folds his arms across his chest stubbornly.

"Fine. I didn't really die all those years ago…" Bumper begins. "I mean, yeah. I was stabbed, kicked, punched, _and _thrown off a cliff, but I didn't die. The dumb fucks through me into a fucking lake, man. Anyway, long story short, I washed up on shore a couple of miles away from where I fell, and a bunch of winter fairies found me, healed me, and…" Bumper shrugs nonchalantly. "Here I am."

"Winter fairies?" Donald asks in disbelief. "Bumper, Winter fairies only come out in the winter, and though this was twelve years ago, I'm pretty sure it was summer time when you supposedly _died_. And Winter fairies save people who are pure… and you, you are the farthest thing from pure."

Bumper staggers back, clutching his chest above his heart in mock pain. "You hurt my feelings, man."

Donald rolls his eyes at him. "I'm your best friend, Bumper. Don't lie to me… and why didn't you contact me then?"

Bumpers looks away for a moment, and for the first time, he actually has a serious look on his face. "I couldn't. I wanted to, but… The uglies were still following me. I couldn't risk leading them back to you after all those decades you spent trying to escape them."

They're both quiet then, staring at the dry-erase board on the opposite wall. "The uglies will always try to find you as long as they think you're alive."

"Way ahead of you on that one, dude." Bumper laughs. "Faked my death a while back. Not like a formal funeral or anything, but… well, let's just say a couple hundred uglies witnessed me stabbing myself in the heart."

"What, are you immortal now?"

Bumper shrugs with a tiny grin. "Something like that."

Donald looks around, seeing the sun not affecting Bumper at all, so he really can't be a vampire, unless he's like Donald. "Bumper, what the hell are you?"

Bumper looks around, making sure they weren't being watched or anything. "I'm a part of the Were-community now, Donnie."

Donald blinks confusedly at Bumper for a few moments, before his eyes widen in recognition. "Holy shit!" he whispers rather loudly. "A werewolf? How'd you become a werewolf?"

"Actually, _they're_ the ones who saved me… that night, when I fell off the cliff, a werewolf found me… they were going to kill me, but… well, they decided I could be useful to them after I bargained with them."

Donald narrowed his eyes at him, "What do you mean bargain? Werewolves don't _bargain _with anyone… Bumper, what the heck did you offer them?"

Bumper sighs again, the age in his eyes visible. "Information on the uglies."

"Information?" Donald asks incredulously, not able to believe that a werewolf community would change a mortal in exchange for information. "What kind of information?"

"Well, let's just say that the werewolves hate the uglies just as much as you do, and I offered information on the whereabouts of the uglies hideouts… I actually had to work at that shit. I kind of lied from the beginning, but I worked hard to get the information I got… my team and I have actually eliminated a rather impressive amount of ugliness… I like to think of it as, beautifying the planet." Bumper grins, his double entendre not lost on Donald.

"So what are you doing here in Barden?" Donald asks.

"Oh! Yeah, I'm actually on duty right now, trying to find out exactly what the uglies are doing _here_."

"There are uglies_ here_?" Donald's interest peaks.

Bumper nods in confirmation. "There are about nine disguised uglies here, and they're actually on some kind of mission from Luke."

"What kind of mission?"

"I don't really know, but one of our spies picked up on a conversation one of the uglies were having with Luke, and he said they were talking about some mortal girl."

"What girl?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out… as for now, I'm trying to lay low, act like I'm a student here, and try to find out some more information on what the hell Luke would want from a mortal girl."

Donald nods slowly. "Are you entered in the school system?"

"Hell yeah." Bumper grins. "We have our own sweet hacker back at the werewolf hideout… Now enough about me. What, is a high and mighty 'I-fly-solo' kind of vampire like you, doing in Barden University? You're not satisfied with all your Yale, Harvard, and Stanford degrees?" he jokes, laughing a bit.

"Actually, I'm here on a mission. A personal one, so don't go digging in my business, okay?"

"Oh, the visions still ongoing?"

Donald lets a smile grace his face. "Something like that."

"Need any help?"

"Nope. You?"

"Nope." Bumper replies, but pauses, squinting at his best friend. "Actually, I could use your Vampire senses and skills."

Donald chuckles, shaking his head. "I never thought I'd see the day when I'd be helping out my werewolf best friend."

"We're back to best friends? For real?" Bumper asks, feeling hopeful.

Donald just laughs, slinging his backpack back onto his shoulder. "Just shut up and help me find my dorm room."

-DS-

* * *

…

"Ugh, all I heard about over the summer was how amazing these frat parties are, and how hot all the college guys are, but… this sucks. Majorly." Stacie stomped down the stairs of the frat house, following a slightly drunk Beca. "The guys aren't even _that_ hot, and this place is just suffocating me."

"At least the freee is booooooze." Beca hiccups drunkenly. "That's gooood enough for meeee."

"No it's not… Where the hell is the dance floor? Parties are supposed to be about dancing, and drinking, and having fun. They have the drinking, but I don't see any dancing and fun." Stacie complains. "This party blows. We should just go." She says, pulling Becca back before she could fall face first into a table of beers.

Stacie pulls Beca with her towards the door, ready to call a damn taxi and get back to their dorm room. But before she could get close enough to the door, a large, blonde, muscular guy in a football jersey blocks her way, grinning down at her. She blinks at him like he's crazy, "Uhhh, do you mind? We're trying to get to the door, so if you'd please get out of my way, we'll be able to accomplish that." She snaps, feeling irritated because she doesn't want to be in there any longer.

"Where are you going? It's only eleven, girl."

"Excuse me? And who the hell made you my dad? Now get the hell out of my way, douchebag."

The guy doesn't budge, so Stacie tries to walk around him, but he moves too, blocking her way yet again. "What the hell?!" she bellows angrily. "What the heck is your problem?"

"_You're_ my problem… so how about we go upstairs, and we can get rid of that problem?" his voice is deep, and… scratchy, and probably the most annoying voice on the face of the planet.

"Wow… that's your line?" Stacie laughs humorlessly. "Okay, first of all, that was the stupidest line I've ever heard. Second, you smell like barf, and last, there is no way in hell I would go with you anywhere. Now get out of my way!"

"Come on, girl… Just one hour."

"Are you fucking serious?" Stacie exclaims. Beca hiccups loudly from behind her, followed by a string of swear words as the girl slumps onto her shoulder. "Hold on, Beca."

"I'm fuuuuuckin' druuuunk!" Becca slurs. "Lesttt—Lest go daaaancing!"

The blonde guy smirks down at Stacie as she tries to keep Beca upright. "Your friend there wants to stay for the party. What kind of friend would you be if you just drag her out of here before she gets a chance to dance?"

Stacie glares daggers at him, "I'd be the good friend who got her ass home, as soon as the asshole in front of me, gets out of my way."

Even then, the guy doesn't budge. "You're not getting out of this one."

"Excuse me?" the words were barely out of her mouth before his hand wraps around her arm, and he's pulling her with him towards the front door. "What the—Let me go, you fucking pervert!" Stacie tries her best to wriggle out of his grasp, at the same time, pulling Beca with her. "Let me go!" Stacie screams, punching and kicking the guy, but for some reason, he doesn't seem to feel it. Stacie frantically looks around at the partygoers, but not a single person in there notices her screaming at some asshole to let her go as he practically drags her and Beca out the door, and… Stacie looks around quickly, and her heart jumps up into her throat when she sees a dark blue van pull up on the side of the street, and the sliding door in the back opens up to four large, hideous looking guys, all waiting for them to get to the van. Stacie screams louder than ever, hoping someone with a freaking soul would notice two girls being dragged towards a fucking van, about to be kidnapped and raped, and…

"Beca! Stacie!"

Stacie quickly looks around, instantly recognizing Fat Amy's voice. "AMY! HELP US!"

Fat Amy is running towards them, but she's far away. "STACIE!" she calls once more, before Stacie feels four, five, maybe eight hands grab her and pull her into the van. Stacie lets go of Beca's arm immediately before they could pull her into their van too, and Stacie sees Beca staggering backwards, and landing in a bush. The blonde guy hops out, ready to grab her, but Stacie calls to him. "NO! Leave her alone!" she screams.

One of the other large guys calls to the blonde guy, his voice, almost an exact replica of the blonde guys, "We don't need her! This is the one we came for." He says, grabbing Stacie's arm and pulling her back, before tying her hands together. The blonde guy runs back to the van and hops into the front seat of the van, and the last thing Stacie sees before a dark, smelly cloth is pulled over her head, was Fat Amy, running frantically to the van and screaming swear words at the van. "STACIE!" Stacie hears Amy still calling her name, and all she could do, was cry, feeling her heart and insides twist. These ugly, smelly guys were going to rape her, and kill her, and then leave her to rot in some alleyway somewhere, and she'll never see her friends or her parents again. She won't meet a guy that she would love enough to marry. She would never have children, and watch them grow up. She would never get to tell her parents how much she loves them. All she can do now was cry, and wish for death to take her right now.

-DS-

* * *

…

He's sure she's at this frat party. Somehow, he can sense her. But he doesn't see her anywhere. He's looked everywhere, even dreading seeing her in a room with some other guy, but he still looked. Luckily, she wasn't in any of the rooms. So he looks again downstairs, declining the booze people keep offering him, and rejecting every girl in there. He wants to see _her_, and _only_ her. He's just about to go and check the back of the frat house, when he hears her name being called by another girl.

Donald whirls around, his vision sharpening and his hearing picking up every conversation, every word, and every voice, until finally, he hears _her_ voice. He'd recognize it anywhere.

"AMY! HELP US!" Her voice sounded panicked. Frantic.

Donald doesn't think twice. He's sure that was her voice, and he takes off towards it, feeling every part of his body humming with life as he bursts out the door. Donald's stomach plummets to the ground when he sees her in a van, her hands tied together in front of her. He only gets a tiny flash of her face, her eyes wide with fear, before a bag is pulled over her head, and the van's door slams shut. The van lurches forward, taking off in high speed.

Donald doesn't think. He immediately takes off, not caring that half of Barden University can see him as he takes off at an inhumane speed. It only takes a few seconds before he's right behind the van.

Donald's jaw twitches, his hand stretching out for the backdoor of the van. With one swift punch, his fist sinks through the door, and he practically tears the back door off its hinges. The pungent odor of Uglies wafts out through the door, followed by a foot, heading straight for his face. He thinks fast, and acts faster, dodging away from the kick, and diving inside. Donald can see Stacie's form at the corner of the van, and four large Uglies grinning wickedly at him.

"We've been awaiting your arrival, Walsh." One of them says.

Donald instantly recognizes the voice. "Unicycle… I see your still as ugly as ever."

Unicycle laughs, showing his quickly decaying teeth. "Luke will be delighted to see you." The other two uglies are already crouched down, ready to pounce.

"I'm sure he will… But he's going to have to come and get me himself." With that, Donald sends a fast, sharp kick to one of the uglies groin, sending the ugly thing to its knees. Donald maneuvers himself under Unicycles outstretched hand, while his fist sinks into the second uglies ribs, the definite sound of bones cracking, echoing through his ears, as his other fist whizzes north under Unicycles chin in an uppercut, taking him out cold. The blonde guy in the passenger seat is in the middle of climbing into the back, when Donald spins a kick, his boot landing square in the guys face and sending him crashing through the windshield. Donald manages to throw the van in park by slamming down on the emergency break with his foot, sending the driver flying through the windshield as well.

One of the other Uglies manages to get back up, and he goes for the only thing that could possible stop Donald from killing every inhumane thing in that van. The vampire grabs Stacie's arm, yanking her into a crouched position in front of him, as a form of cover. "Move, and I'll break her neck." The guy says, still wheezing a bit from where Donald had kicked him in the groin.

Donald immediately freezes, raising his hands up in surrender. "Let her go. You have me, so just let her go."

The guy laughs harshly, "I can't do that. Luke will kill me if I let this one go." his arm tightening on Stacie's body, making her double over in pain.

Donald's jaw clenches tightly, a feral growl leaving the back of his throat as he moves closer to the wide open back door. "_I will_ kill you if you _don't_ let her go."

The guy laughs again, this time with lesser harshness. "How are you gonna do that?"

Donald shrugs, his senses sharpening even further as he gets ready to attack again. "Like this." The guy barely moved before Donald was behind him, grabbing his head, snapping it back, and sinking his hand through his neck, grabbing the first thing his fingers come into contact with, and pulling. The guy slowly sinks to his knees, his esophagus hanging from Donald's fingers.

Donald can't tell what happened, but Stacie goes down too, and he feels the dread spread quickly through his chest as he kneels down beside her, and pulls the rag off her head, finally revealing her face. She's out like a light, and Donald does a quick inspection of her body for any injuries, broken bones, bleeding, swelling, or anything that might have caused her to faint. His fingers come to a halt on her rib cage, and he feels at least two broken ribs there, from where the Uglie had squeezed her. He glances down at her face, and his chest tightens at her beauty. This wasn't how he pictured actually seeing her for the first time, and given the circumstances, he should be feeling like crap that he's seeing her unconscious… But he can't help but feel like the world had stopped spinning as he stares at her beautiful face. He doesn't stare for long though, knowing that it's dangerous to just stay there with her. Luke is probably sending more Uglies by now. Donald quickly shrugs out of his jacket, wrapping it around her body, before lifting her up into his arms, and hopping out of the van. He does a quick scenario check, and he instantly knows that he needs to get Stacie somewhere safe. A place that no other vampire knows about. A place even Luke would never think to look. And there's only one place like that. Aubrey's house. It's underground, hidden from the world, and it's safe. Plus, he trusts Aubrey. With that in mind, Donald finally takes off into a high-speed run through the trees to the left of the road where the van stopped. He knows the risks he's taking, but he needs to protect Stacie. He doesn't think of how Stacie might be the mortal girl that Bumper said Luke was looking for. He just needs to get Stacie to safety. She's his first priority. After he makes sure she's safe, then he'll think of everything else. As for now, all else is irrelevant.

As he continues to run, he tightens his arms around her body a little, pulling her up into his chest. He feels his whole body vibrating with life as he holds her close. He wants to let out all the joy running through him. The happiness at finally finding her. Yes, he didn't want to find her unconscious and nearly kidnapped by a bunch of vampires, but… he found her nonetheless. He _found_ her, and that's all he could ever want.

He's never felt so alive in all his six-hundred-fifty-eight years of existence as a Vampire… And he swears, he feels his dead, cold heart, _beat_.

-DS-

* * *

Author's Note: I know, it's kind of lame… But hey, no one else has written a fanfic about Donald being a vampire. I can totally picture him being one. And to answer some unasked questions, No. This story won't be like The Twilight Saga. Not much… Anyways, the next chapter will take place in "Aubrey's home", but it will eventually come back to Barden University. Though Donald and Stacie are the main point of the story, I still have a pretty great back story to this.

So REVIEW and let me know if you would want to read a chapter two for this fic.

-Sux2budude


	2. Chapter 2

Title: A Thousand Years

Pairing: Donald/Stacie

A/N: Hello! I really hope you guys will like this chapter. I'm still not entirely sure if I like the pace and the plot, but it's something. Reviews are greatly appreciated, so please review!

-Sux2budude

* * *

Chapter Two:

* * *

-DS-

…

The world spins slowly across her vision as she fights the nauseating feeling of keeping her eyes open. She blinks several times, trying to get the room to come into focus, but it seems like it's only getting blurrier.

She falls in and out of consciousness, hearing faint, echoing whispers that she can't understand, or process. It's around the sixth time she wakes up that her vision finally sharpens, albeit slowly. There are hushed whispers in the background, and Stacie tries hard to listen, but it's nearly impossible. She can only tell that the voices belong to two people. Male and female. Stacie doesn't try to sit up because the supposedly simple act of breathing is already difficult enough. Her eyes slowly focus on her surroundings, taking in the tall, yellow walls, the high ceiling, and the lack of windows. As a matter of fact, as her head slowly turns from side to side, she notices that there are absolutely no windows in the room. None at all. She's definitely not in the hospital… unless this is a mental hospital.

Stacie tries hard to remember what happened and how she got there, but it's just a big blur. The last thing she remembers was going to a party with Beca. She feels the immediate rush of fear and dread as a ton of thoughts hit her all at once. _Did I get drunk and fall asleep somewhere? Did someone find me and kidnap me? Where's Beca? What happened to her? Where am I? _

"She's awake."

Stacie wanted to jump, but she was too exhausted to do that. The guys voice isn't scary or anything. It was soft, soothing, warm, and comforting. Like a blanket. She twists her head to her right, where she sees a tall form slowly approaching her. Another voice speaks then, this time a girls.

"Of course she's awake. Do you doubt my healing skills?"

The guy chuckles softly. "Of course not."

Stacie squints a little. Her vision is still a little blurry, which is weird because she thought it'd be returning to normal quickly. Finally, he gets just close enough so that she can see him better. He's tall, dark, handsome, lean and muscular, with perfect hair, a perfect complexion, perfect eyes, and a perfect smile. "I was beginning to think I lost you again." He mutters softly. Even his voice is perfect, she thinks. _How is that possible?_

Stacie's eyebrows furrow in confusion as she shakes her head. She opens her mouth to ask him what he meant, but instead, it comes out in a squeaky, embarrassing sound that sounded like a dying cat. She clears her throat, once , twice, before trying again. "Who are you? Where am I? What am I doing here? What happ—"

"Whoa, slow down there," he says, quickly closing the distance between himself and the bed she's in. He leans over her, and Stacie catches his scent, a mouthwatering, aromatic scent that she thinks might be the most amazing smell a guy could have. "Why don't you start again, slowly, and we'll try to answer as best as we can?"

The other girl in the room snorts, "We?" she shakes her head, laughing again. "No, _you're_ explaining everything, Donnie. _You're _the one who brought her here, not me."

He rolls his eyes at the girl, but turns back, quirking an eyebrow at Stacie.

Stacie nods, trying to sit up, but his hand on her arm stops her. "You're still weak from the injuries."

Stacie's eyebrows furrow at him. "Injuries? What injuries?"

He doesn't answer. Instead, he slowly pulls back the sheet over her body, gesturing at her abdominal area. When she looks down, she realizes that she's not even wearing a shirt. She's wearing a baby blue brassiere that doesn't belong to her, and there's a huge gauze over her stomach. Her breath hitches in the back of her throat as she tries to keep reminding herself to breathe. "W—What, what happened to me?" she's beginning to hyperventilate.

"Calm down," he says softly. "I'll tell you, but just take a deep breath, and try to relax. She listens to him, nodding her head up and down as she takes a deep breath, followed by another and another. Soon, her breathing goes back to normal, and the guy slowly lowers himself next to her into a chair by the bed. "Good. That's good."

"What the hell is going on?"

He scoots forward a little, slowly taking her hand in his. His hand is cold and hard, but it's smooth, and she feels tingles run up through her fingers, her arm, and throughout her entire body at his touch… but she can't afford to think of that right now.

"My name is Donald." He begins. "Donald Walsh. You were… attacked at a frat party on Friday, and I helped you."

"Wait," Stacie says holding up a hand. "On Friday?" He nods. "What day is it today?"

"That's not important."

"Like hell it is!" she yells a little, this time pushing away his hands when he tries to stop her from sitting up. The act in itself has her completely winded. "I need to know what day it is."

He nods slowly, letting out a light sigh. "It's Saturday."

Stacie heaves a sigh of relief. She was out for only a couple of hours then.

But then he continues. "It's Saturday… a week away from when you were attacked."

Stacie gasps loudly, her eyes widening in shock. "I've been out for a week?"

He nods again. "My friend did the best she could, but you have to stay here until you heal completely."

"No, I have to go back… I have school, classes, people who will be looking for me, friends, my parents, the police may be—"

"Those are all taken care of." The guy ensures her. "Your school has already been notified that you have the chickenpox and won't be able to be in school for at least three weeks. Your parents still think you're in school, and your friends think you're away with your parents for your cousins wedding."

Stacie blinks confusedly at him. "I don't_ have_ a cousin."

"Well, you do now." He gets up, pushing his chair back and leaning over her to look at her face closely. "Your bruises are almost completely gone."

"Bruises?"

He nods, "On your forehead, your cheek, your arms, your ankle, your neck, and your torso."

A thought hits Stacie then like a ton of bricks. _Who took my clothe off to inspect my injuries? Did he see me naked?_ "I—, did you uhhh, were you…" he chuckles lightly, cutting her off.

"Don't worry… My specialty does not lie within healing. My friend Aubrey there is actually the one who healed you, _and_ dressed your wounds and stuff." The guy steps back, gesturing to the other side of the room, where Stacie sees a beautiful, petite girl with wavy blonde hair that flows down her back like gold. Her eyes are bright, and her smile, although a bit unfriendly, is wide. _She looks like a model, right out of a Vogue magazine, or better yet, a Victoria's Secrets model._

"I've heard so much about you, Stacie." Aubrey tells her as she slowly approaches them.

"You did?" Stacie blinks at her, and then realizes something. Her eyes narrow at the two. "Wait. How do you guys know my name?"

Donald turns to Aubrey, giving her a cold glare. He turns to Stacie, a small smile sliding onto his face. "We read your school file." He lies. Stacie's eyes stay narrowed for a few moments, not sure if she believes him.

"Yes." Aubrey cuts in. "We read your file, but I've been hearing about you since—,"

"Aubrey." Donald cuts her off, his tone, warning.

"I'm just trying to tell her the truth, Donald."

"Not now."

Aubrey shrugs, "Suit yourself." She turns to Stacie, offering another unfriendly smile. "I'm going to grab a drink. Would you like anything? Wine? Margarita? Martini?... or perhaps, Vodka?"

"Water would be fine, Aubrey." Donald says, his voice turning a bit louder.

Aubrey huffs at that, but nods before leaving the room.

"She's nice."

Donald laughs at that. "Sorry about that… she's a little moody today."

"I can't imagine why." Stacie mutters sarcastically.

He sits back down, this time, by her hip on the bed. He heaves sigh, running his fingers through his hair.

"You still haven't told me where I am." Stacie mutters, "Why I'm here… and what happened to me… How'd I get bruises? And why am I wearing a bandage on my stomach?"

He looks at her, his eyes staring intensely into hers. It's like he was staring right into her soul. She shifts a bit, pulling the sheets over herself. And like he could sense her discomfort, he gets back up off the bed and starts pacing in front of the bed. "We're in a… safe place. Kind of like a sanctuary, if you will." He sighs again, turning away from her and staring off at the wall. "It's not so far from your school, so you don't have to worry about being in a whole different country. We're still in America."

Stacie leans back against the headboard of the bed, pulling the sheets up around her. "You said I was attacked… By who?"

He nods, turning back to her, but not looking at her. He stares at the ground. "Yes… You were attacked in front of a frat house at a party, by a bunch of… guys."

"What guys?"

"Bad guys… They want something from you, and I'm still trying to figure out what it is that they want."

Stacie is beyond confused. Why would a bunch of guys try to hurt her? And what the heck would anyone want from her? She knows she's hot. Gorgeous. And there have been countless encounters with guys trying to get her to sleep with them. Perhaps she was attacked by all the guys she turned down in the past?

He breaks her from her thoughts. "Don't think about it too much. You're safe now."

Stacie stares at him for a long moment. "Why did you save me? You don't even know me." She points out.

He stares right back, leaning over her slowly… too slowly. "I know more than you think." He says softly. "I was able to get to the van where they were taking you, and I got you out of there." He gestures to her torso, "The bandage is for a simple incision that Aubrey had to make on your stomach so she could… reattach two of your ribs."

"What?"

"Two of your ribs were broken." He explains.

She gives him a wide-eyed, terrified look. "It was_ that_ bad?"

"It could've been worse, but you're safe now." He mutters softly.

Stacie shakes her head, still trying to search her mind for the memory of what he's explaining, but there's nothing. It's just a big, black, blank. "Why don't I remember any of this?"

Donald smiles softly at her, straightening up again. "You hit your head pretty hard, so it's either your concussion caused you to forget that, or your mind is subconsciously repressing the memory… either way, you won't remember that night unless you _really_ want to."

Stacie nods slowly. It makes sense that she wouldn't want to remember something that caused her to black out for a week. But still, she needs to know more. "The last thing I remember was going to the party with my friend, Beca… Do you know if she's—,"

"She's safe… the attackers didn't touch her. They only wanted _you_."

"So when am I supposed to be fully healed?" she asks curiously.

"It depends. You were badly hurt, but Aubrey did the best she could, so it shouldn't take long… Give it two weeks tops."

"Two weeks?" Stacie asks incredulously. "I'm supposed to stay here for two whole weeks?"

Donald nods, "Yes. It would be safer to stay longer, but that's the best we could do with the storyline of why you're missing. Any longer than that, and people will start thinking something is up."

"What about the kidnappers? Are they going to come back for me when I go back to school?"

Donald nods. "Without a doubt they will… but I'll be with you when you go back, and I'll do everything I can to protect you. I promise you that."

Stacie stares at him, "You've already done so much for me. And I don't even_ know_ you."

Donald nods, "True, but… maybe that can change."

Stacie isn't sure what he's implying, but she doesn't have a chance to think about that because Aubrey comes back strolling into the room with a tall glass of water in one hand, and a glass of what looks like red wine in the other. "Sorry I took so long." Aubrey smiles, "I had to gut a pig while I was gone."

Stacie would've been convinced that Aubrey was joking by her words, but with the serious tone accompanying the words, she's not so sure.

Donald looks at the blonde, his eyes narrowing. "We could've gone on living without the knowledge of what you were doing while you were gone, Aubrey." His tone is warning.

Aubrey rolls her eyes as she hands the glass of water to Stacie. "Thanks."

Aubrey nods, and turns her head to look at Donald. "If you're planning to be her bodyguard for the rest of her life, she's _gonna_ find out anyway. Why not just tell her the truth _now_?"

Stacie stares confusedly at the two as she takes a long sip from the glass, not knowing what Aubrey is talking about. "What truth?"

Donald cuts in before Aubrey has a chance to answer. "It's nothing." He smiles a bit awkwardly as he gets up, grabbing Aubrey's elbow. "May I speak to you in private?"

Aubrey shrugs, pulling away from his grasp. "Sure." She walks back to the door, swinging it back and exiting swiftly.

Donald turns back to Stacie, giving her an apologetic look. "Like I said, she's a bit moody today. But if you'll excuse me, I have something to say to my dear friend. Will you be okay on your own for a few minutes?"

Stacie nods. "Yeah. I'm sure I'll survive."

He chuckles at that as he _too_ heads for the door. "I'll be back shortly to check up on you, and I'll bring you something to eat."

When he closes the door, Stacie sighs heavily, not knowing what's going on with herself. She knows that she doesn't know a single thing about Donald and his friend, and she probably shouldn't trust a bunch of strangers, let alone believe them, but… There's just something about Donald that kind of warms and comforts her. She's just not sure what it is_ yet_.

* * *

-DS-

* * *

…

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Donald demands as soon as he closes the door behind himself. Aubrey huffs, folding her arms across her chest.

"I told you that this doesn't sit well with me, Donald… You and I have spent _decades_, running from the Uglies, and just when we succeed, you go and bring a mortal girl into my home, who, might I add, Luke is looking for. Do you have any idea what kind of danger you're putting yourself in?"

Donald sighs heavily, "I couldn't just leave her to die, Aubrey… So if you want us to leave, then just say the word, and we'll go."

Aubrey rolls her eyes. "You don't have anywhere safe to go."

"You don't want to risk getting caught by the Uglies again, and I understand that. We'll leave if that's what you want."

"Are you insane? You think that's what I'm worried about? I don't care about getting caught by the damn Uglies, Donald! We did it twice before, and we can do it again. I'm worried about you! What happens when you tell her the truth and she doesn't want anything to do with you?"

"That's none of your concern, Aubrey." He growls defensively.

Aubrey laughs, albeit humorlessly. "None of my concern? You and I both know that you became my concern the moment you chose to save me all those years ago."

"Well I couldn't exactly leave you over there, could I?"

"You could, but you didn't… And we agreed that my problems are yours and your problems are mine." She gives Donald a look, daring him to argue with her. He sighs heavily, shaking his head at her.

"Then I'll leave her alone."

Aubrey laughs at that, "You and I both know that you won't ever leave her alone, Donald. You've spent two centuries, searching for her. I know you won't throw away two centuries worth of risks when she tells you to."

Donald sighs heavily. He hates that Aubrey can always read him like a book. "I'll try."

"And you won't succeed… You care about her _too_ much."

He doesn't say anything to that, because she's right. "Then I'll erase her from my memory."

Aubrey gasps loudly. "You'd_ really_ erase two centuries of your memory?"

"If that's what it takes so I can give her what she wants, then yes."

Aubrey shakes her head, not at all okay with what Donald is saying. "So what's your game plan?"

"I don't _have_ a game plan."

"Bullshit." Aubrey says with extreme doubt. "I know you have something in mind. What is it?"

Donald shakes his head this time, "I don't know... I mean, I have _something,_ but—I think it's too risky."

"In what way, Donald? You're already risking your neck for some girl, so what else could possibly be_ too_ risky for you at this point?"

"Her!" Donald snaps. "I can't risk putting her life in danger, and she's not just _some_ girl, Aubrey."

Aubrey rolls her eyes, smacking her palm across her forehead in exasperation. "Well, whether you like it or not, Don, Stacie's _life is already_ _in_ danger. If you _want_ to make sure that she's safe for the rest of her life, then you should _do everything_ in your power to make sure that _really_ happens, _even_ if it jeopardizes her safety for now… You have to be in the equation, if you want to solve it. And quite frankly, Stacie is already in the equation. So that means she has to know the truth about what we are, and what attacked her a week ago."

Donald looks away, knowing that Aubrey is right. Stacie would have to know what he and Aubrey are if he wants to protect her, because he can't protect her if he's trying to hide what he is… And if he's honest with himself, he's scared of Stacie's reaction to _what_ he is. "First thing is first. I eliminate Luke, as well as all of his followers. As soon as I'm sure she's safe, I'll tell her the truth. If she accepts me, then great. If she doesn't, I'll erase her from my memory and she'll _never_ have to see me again."

Aubrey doesn't like this idea one tiny bit, but she's known Donald for a very _very_ long time, and he's really smart and powerful. She knows that he knows what he's doing, so she nods slowly. "Yeah, whatever."

Donald heaves a sigh of relief. "Thank you… I actually thought you were going to argue with me on this."

"Yeah, don't get used to it." Aubrey says, baring her fangs. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a dying pig in my kitchen, waiting to be drained. Care to join me?"

Donald laughs but shakes his head. "No, thank you. Maybe later."

Aubrey shrugs her shoulders, already heading for the kitchen door, calling over her shoulder, "Have fun with Stacie!"

-SD-

* * *

…

When he comes back, he's holding a tray with a glass of what looks like orange juice, and bowl of… something. Stacie finally realizes how hungry she is, her stomach growling loudly. _How embarrassing! _Donald doesn't hear it though, or maybe he did but doesn't want to make her feel even more uncomfortable by indicating that he did hear her stomach rumbling.

"I brought you some soup." Donald says, setting the tray down on the little table beside the bed. At Stacie's raised eyebrows, he adds with a slight chuckle, "You haven't eaten for days, so you should eat something light for now, just to settle your hunger. You can eat whatever your heart desires later."

Stacie smiles a little, grateful that this guy, who is a complete stranger to her, is taking care of her. "Thanks." She mutters.

She watches him quietly as he picks up the bowl of yellowish soup, blowing on it to warm it up a little. In her nineteen years of existence, no guy has ever treated her this way. Usually, they're all up on her, trying to have sex with her. But Donald doesn't even look at her for more than a couple of seconds before he's back to staring at the wall, or the floor, or at his feet.

He insists on feeding her, smiling wider every time she swallows down the soup. After her soup, he hands her the cup of orange juice he brought with him, and sits there, staring at her intensely. Stacie wants to say something to him, but all she can come up with for the moment is, "Thank you for the soup."

He nods, smiling again. "You're welcome."

They're both quiet, just enjoying the companionable silence, before Stacie sighs heavily and looks at him questioningly. Before she could ask, he voices what he thinks she's thinking. And it's spot on. "You're wondering why I risked helping you."

"Yes." Stacie nods. "How do you know I was wondering that?"

He shrugs, "It's a general thought for someone who is being helped by a total stranger."

"Is this, like, your part-time job or something? Saving people?"

Donald chuckles, taking the orange juice from her hands and setting it on the tray beside the now empty bowl of soup. "Let's just say I felt like I knew you, and I didn't want you to get hurt."

She has no idea what he's even talking about, but she nods. "Well, thank you. And thank Aubrey for me, will you? I don't think she's exactly keen on accepting a thank you from me."

"She's like that with everyone. It's not that she's anti-social or anything of the sort… It's just like I said. She's feeling a bit moody today."

"Must be that time of month." Stacie mutters under her breath.

Donald pretends not to hear her, but he grins widely. Technically, it _is _that time of the month, but instead of Aubrey having female-emergencies, she's just going through yet another hunger-pang. It's especially strong since a mortal human is sitting right here, inside her home. Not a great idea for a vampire who hasn't drank human blood in over four centuries. "You should get some rest. I know you've been resting for a week, but your body is still weak and needs to heal properly."

Stacie wants to complain, but she figures he's right. "Okay." She slides down on the bed, pulling up the covers over herself. "I'll see you when I wake up."

"I'll have a feast ready when you do." Donald smiles.

Stacie lets her eyes close, and she thinks she hears Donald whispering something to her, but sleep is suddenly drowning out her thoughts.

* * *

…

The days go by in a blur for Stacie, but then again,_ everything_ is always _blurry_ for her whenever _he's _around. The first week was quite uneventful, full of sitting around, doing absolutely nothing. Sometimes, he'll sit with her and talk about everything. She tells him about herself, and he tells her stuff about him, like him attending Barden University, and that he just recently moved to Georgia from New York, which genuinely surprised Stacie because who the hell, in their right mind, leaves New York City to live in Atlanta, Georgia of all places? Not that there's anything wrong with Georgia, but… He lived in _New York, _and _chose _to move to Georgia!

He says his parents are dead, and that he lives by himself. Stacie had tried to say something to comfort him, but he only shakes his head, smiling that smile that makes her heart race. It's nothing special, but for Stacie, she's never had this kind of connection with anyone. He's… _different._ And not in that clichéd way that every girl describes the guy they like as. _He's_ different in a way that she can't put into words. It's not verbally attainable, but it's physically and emotionally there. A kind of aura that pulls her in whenever he speaks, or smiles at her, or laughs. His laugh is quite amusing to her. Sometimes he laughs like he's never heard anything funnier, but most times, he laughs like he's nervous. And she knows that he's hiding something from her. She's tried to get him to spill about 'the truth' that Aubrey had mentioned on that day she woke up, but he never tells her. He either pulls away or makes an excuse about something before rushing off, or he changes the subject completely. After a week of trying to get him to tell her 'the truth', Stacie decides to just drop it. He'll tell her _when_ or_ if_ he wants to.

By Monday of her second week there, she's practically told Donald everything there is to know about her. And she means _everything_. And it's not like she wholeheartedly trusts him with every fiber of her being, because she knows he's still hiding some things about himself. She just feels like she doesn't really have anything to hide because with every uneventful thing that has happened in her life, there are no real big secrets about her. Aside from that, Donald is the one who's trying to protect her and keep her safe, so she doubts he'd do anything to hurt her with anything from her past.

He tells her only _some_ things about himself, and she pretends that she doesn't know that he's still hiding something. And if she really thinks about it, he's really not being fair in that department. Aubrey never really joins in on their conversations, only dropping by the room with food and drinks before disappearing somewhere to do whatever it is that she does. But Donald, he's the only constant. He's there every morning, sometimes interrupting her sleep, and he barely leaves the room. And when he's not there, he's at school… or so he says.

Stacie wanders around the enormous house, enjoying the ancient feel and look of it. There's a _library_ in the house! And it's not like she's a big fan of reading or anything, but she's fascinated by it and kind of suspicious, because who, in the 21st century, under the age of 30, has a _library_ in their house? A house, that's underground by the way. Truth be told, the more she thinks about it, the stranger it seems. Why does Aubrey have an underground house? There's a generator-powered elevator that takes you up to humankind and out into the world, and though she's never went up in the elevator, Donald had told her that the elevator leads up into another house, that Aubrey owns as well. And as far as Stacie knows, Aubrey's parents are living in Europe, and they're both business people. But who in their right mind, would leave their twenty-three year old daughter to live on her own, in an underground house? It's unsettling and odd in so many ways. All the puzzling questions in her head makes her dizzy and gives her headaches, so Stacie tries not to think too much about it.

By Wednesday, Stacie was about to lose her mind from boredom. Donald is perched comfortably on a couch on the other side of the spacious room, reading a book, and she's left to her own thoughts, which are currently on him, wondering why he won't tell her 'the truth' that Aubrey was talking about the other day. She sighs heavily, letting her gaze slide over to the door. "Can I go grab something to read?"

Donald looks up, giving her a confused look. "Stacie, I'm not holding a gun to your head and threatening your life if you leave this room…"

At Stacie's blank stare, he closes his book and nods to her. "Yes, you may."

She smiles a little, and leaves hastily, heading towards the library. When she reaches the door, something to her right catches her eye, and she turns to find a marble bust of… Aubrey. Though it was not the accurate color as her face and hair, she could tell it was Aubrey's face by the shape of the nose, eyes, and mouth. And it didn't look new or anything because there were multiple scratches on the side, and a thick coat of dust on it. Stacie smiles a little, wondering just how much self-love Aubrey could have to have a marble bust of herself inside her own home. Stacie was a second away from turning to the library doors, when she catches sight of a golden plaque, right below the bust. Stacie looks back down the hallway where she came to make sure no one (even though it's just her and Donald there today) was there, before she crosses the space between herself and the bust, and she leans down, brushing the dust off of the plaque.

_Princess Ira Von Liechtenstein_

_Paris, France- 1659_

Stacie's eyebrows furrow as she straightens back up to look closely at the bust again. It still definitely looked like Aubrey, although the hair-do was a bit ancient looking, twisted up into some complex, French twist kind of style that went _out_ of style at least five hundred years ago. Stacie shrugs to herself. Maybe this was Aubrey's great-great-great-great-grandmother or something, and Aubrey just looks eerily like her. Stacie stares at it for a moment longer, before finally going into the library.

When she steps inside, she's hit with the now familiar scent of old books and parchment as she walks further into the library, her eyes sweeping from left to right. She goes to one of the shelves, pulling out a random book from it, and flipping it open. The words are in French, so she understands nothing of it. She took French class back in high school, but it was never her strongest subject, so she barely scraped by in that class. Stacie closes the book, puts it back in its place and pulls out another book. This one is in a language that she thinks is Latin… or maybe it was Greek. She puts that book back as well, and pulls out another book on the shelf right above the one where she pulled out the Latin book. This one is big, heavy, and had a cover that looked like it was about to fall apart in two seconds. She cautiously opens the cover, peering inside, and she's thankful when she sees words that she can understand. English.

She closes it back, and hauls the giant book towards the table on the far east of the room, hoping to at least pass some time with it. She sits in a large, old-fashioned armchair that looked like it belonged in England. It's cushion is soft and made of red fabric, outlined with golden threads. She begins to read, and halfway through the third page, she realizes that she has no idea what the book was about. From what she read, it's explaining very detailed descriptions of some old, nameless town in England. She continues to read, thinking it would maybe get interesting… and it does. Because in page twenty-three, the first description of someone is introduced. A lady, no older than herself, making some sort of ancient, demonic ritual and selling her soul to the devil. Stacie pauses, furrowing her eyebrows. The book was getting kind of scary at this point, and added to the fact that the library was lit by a dim chandelier hanging from the ceiling, it really wasn't just her nerves. She continues to read, and by the twenty-fifth page, the tale was immersed into complete and total darkness. Not literally, but the book mentioned several demonic activities that went on with the lady from the story. Although her request of eternal life was granted, it was granted with a twist. Of course, she's dealing with the devil, so she should've expected some sort of rig in the damn contract. As the story progresses to page forty-two, the story unravels the true nature of the lady. She grows fangs, and her eyes turn red, she feeds off of humans, drinking, drinking, never stops drinking. She craves, and _needs_ human blood, and she lures her preys by using her beauty, and her beauty is like natures greatest gift to the earth. Her hair, golden and shining in the dark. Her body, much stronger than any living creature roaming the earth. And she becomes the first of her kind. A _Vampyre_.

Stacie's eyebrows furrows. _Wasn't Dracula the first vampire to ever exist in Mythology?_ She shrugs mentally, not really caring about that so called fact. It's not like these things are even real. She continues, reading about the lady, and she's so immersed into the story that she doesn't even notice the library door open and shut. The tale of the lady keeps going, to the point where the lady has lived for over a thousand years. She's changed so many humans, and at one point, she meets someone she falls in love with. She loves him to the point that she would set aside her own hunger for his blood. They immediately pursue a relationship, one as normal as any. Until one fateful night, on the eve of their wedding, the lady decides to come clean. She had believed with all her heart that the man would love her even when she reveals her true self to him… But when she does, the man is scared of her, cowering in a corner. She approaches him, but he screams, and makes a run for the door. Before he could get very far, the lady lunges across the room, and drains him.

It's the first and last time she's ever loved. After killing the love of her life, she goes out into the night and summons the devil. She begs him for her soul back, but instead, the devil laughs at her. The devil reminds her of their contract, that in exchange for her soul, he would grant her immortality, beauty, and strength. The lady cries, and gets angry, telling the devil that she didn't ask to be a monster. The devil then laughs, "My dear child… The moment you became selfish and wanted immortality, beauty, and strength, you turned into a monster yourself. It was all _you're_ doing." The devil then pulled up an image of her tearing out the throat of the man she had loved. "Even _this_." With that, the devil vanished, but not before bestowing yet another curse upon the lady. Come the morn, she was never able to walk in sunlight.

Stacie closes the book, shaking her head. So, this is a tale of how vampires came about. Although she doesn't believe a word of it, she still can't shake the weird fear inside her chest. She groans out loud, leaning back. "Great. Now I'm gonna have nightmares about this stuff."

"You _did_ just read from the Book of Morgana."

Stacie nearly had a heart attack, jumping up out of her seat and whirling around to find Donald sitting on the table across from her. "Oh my God." She mutters, clutching at her poor heart. "You nearly scared the crap out of me."

He chuckles, hopping off the table. "Sorry."

Stacie looks curiously at him. "The Book of Morgana?"

Donald smiles, nodding down at the book she just read. "The Book about the first Vampyre to ever exist."

Stacie quirks an eyebrow at him. "I thought Dracula was the first vampire to ever exist."

Donald laughs, "Dracula is folklore."

"And not this?" She gestures to the black book.

Donald shrugs, "It's only folklore if one doesn't believe it."

"So you believe it then?"

"Some." He shrugs again. "I believe in monsters. I believe that you don't have to be inhumane to be a monster. I believe in God, and I believe in Satan, and I believe that there's a heaven and a hell."

Stacie blinks at him, "I never pegged you to be the religious type."

He shrugs, "I'm not… just because you believe in some things doesn't make you religious. It's just a form of faith."

"So do you believe in vampires?"

Donald is silent for a long moment, staring at her intensely. "You could say that." He nods.

"Why? I mean, there hasn't been any news about people finding any vampires _anywhere_ in the world."

"Maybe all the news directors and companies are being run by vampires."

"You really believe that?"

Donald grins, "You'd be surprised at how many things people find hard to believe."

"Like what?" Stacie questions.

"Vampires for one. Werewolves, fairies, succubus's, and dwarves."

Stacie's eyebrows quirk up as she grins at him. "I think you might be the first guy I've ever met who believes that stuff."

Donald laughs and pulls her towards the door. "You haven't met my friends then." He laughs, and Stacie joins in. "Come on. It's almost midnight. Let's get you to bed."

Stacie is surprised that she had managed to read a book for so long and not have noticed the time. She still doesn't believe in Vampires, and she doubts she ever will, but she _does _believe that there really are monsters out there. Not the creepy scary ones that you see in movies, but the ones that are human. Like the ones that attacked her two weeks ago. She shudders at the thought, and follows Donald out the door.

"Hey." Stacie says, stopping Donald with her hand. "Does Aubrey have like, a great-great-great-great-grandmother or aunt who looks _exactly_ like her?"

Donald raises an eyebrow at her. "No. Why?"

"Because," Stacie begins, turning to point towards the bust on the other side of the hallway, but then she's staring at an empty space there. "Where is it?"

"Where is what?" Donald asks with a confused expression, looking at the empty corner that she's staring at.

Stacie shakes her head, trying to remember if maybe she dreamed up seeing a bust of Aubrey there. "Nothing. I think I'm beginning to lose my mind." She mutters.

Donald smiles at her, and takes her hand into his cold, hard ones. "Or maybe you're just tired."

She's not, but she nods. "Yeah. That's probably it." She ignores the tingles running up her fingers at his touch, and lets him pull her down the hall.

* * *

-DS-

…

"Bumper, we need to talk." Donald says into his phone.

"Sure." Bumper replies. "Did you tell her the truth yet?"

"No."

"Well, you have to tell her soon, man." Bumper tells him. "My contacts told me that Luke is sending Uglies out looking for her already. And they're _really_ close to picking up your trail. The only thing that's stopping Luke from knowing it's you, who took Stacie, is that he thinks you're _dead_."

"I know… I'll tell her when she's ready."

"When _she's_ ready? Or when _you're_ ready?" Bumper questions.

Donald rolls his eyes, huffing loudly. "You're starting to sound a _lot_ like Aubrey."

Bumper laughs, "Dude, Aubrey and I have already agreed that we are _nothing_ alike, so don't let her hear you say that."

"Yeah well, you two are the same in certain aspects. Stacie found a bust of Aubrey from 1659, and she's getting a bit suspicious."

Bumper laughs, "Aubrey is_ totally_ trying to give Stacie a few hints."

"I know." Donald sighs. "Listen, I have to go get ready, but meet me in half an hour at Jesse's place."

"I don't know, dude. Jesse's a vampire."

"So am _I_." Donald points out.

"That's different! You're my _best_ friend. Jesse is _your _friend, not mine."

"Well, Jesse's a vegan. Just meet me at his place, and _don't _be late."

Donald hangs up, sighing softly as he glances over at Stacie's slumbering form. He smiles widely, feeling so much joy in the fact that she's alive and safe. She's his first priority, but right now, he has to meet up with the boys for their plans. Though he hates to have to leave her side, he has to, if only to ensure that she will _always_ be safe. Donald slowly leans over Stacie's still sleeping form, and gently presses a kiss to her forehead. "I'll keep you safe, Stacie." He whispers. "I'll keep you safe even if it's the last thing I do."

-DS-

* * *

…

Author's Note: So, I know this chapter was extremely long and kind of a drag, but I'm still trying to work out the plot. Anyway, REVIEW if you have time. And thank you all for reading this. Next chapter will pick up right where this left off. I hope you liked this chapter. Thanks again!

-Sux2budude


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Pitch Perfect, Romance, Supernatural