Our figure stood outside what he called home-well what he had called home for a few years and hoped to call so for a few more. When one does not age, one cannot stay anywhere very long; at least, he had aged to a point where not aging was coveted, not thought strange. He imagined a life where he had been turned earlier and shuddered- that would be the most supreme form of torture- an eternity of being too young. He smiled slightly at being saved from that and pulled out a key; turning it, he entered his apartment. To his left, was a kitchenette and in front of him was a living space with floor to ceiling windows; just off the living space was a door that led to a bedroom with an en suite. His home was furnished as well as should be expected for someone the age he looked and the station he life he occupied; he was part of an up-and-coming rock n roll band. He loved to sing; it let him express exactly how he felt in not-so-exact terms. He hummed under his breath as he made to shut the door and turn on the light. A white light filled the room and he blinked - even now, the capacity of human invention amazed him. Looking out at the night sky, he wondered if there would ever be a day when he could see a world not dipped in dark and painted by moonlight. He heard a faint rustle from his bedroom, almost as if wind were rustling light, loose objects- to the human ear. He crept to the bedroom door and listened closely; he could sense the presence of two other beings; he had known something was wrong before he reached his building, but lost in his thoughts, had paid no mind. Now, he knew what exactly had bothered him; there was a burglary happening where he lived! Rage, red hot anger filled him; his chest grew tight with the feeling, his face rigid; he was sorely tempted to rush in, exposed; to scare the men- and he could sense that there were two male robbers in his bedroom-before killing them, slowly, painfully. They would feel every drop of blood leave their bodies, tremble as their hearts struggled fervently to supply their bodies with that which was simply not there, and die knowing exactly what was happening; he may even turn them-only to keep them weak and tortured; an eternity of pain, of hunger, of thirst for invading his home, threatening his privacy; they were in his bedroom. But no, he would not, could not, become her. She- no there was no time for that. He had to stop them even if he spared their lives. He casually turned the doorknob, and swung the door open. The fiends stood there, hands in his drawers, looking at him. Panic spread over their faces, but the larger one soon recovered and drew a gun. His intentions were clear; stay away or you taste lead. Smirks spread over the perpetrator's faces, but their joy was premature. The man whose home they were in, turned to leave then turned back in. Within seconds, the smaller criminal was on his knees and within a minute, his larger counterpart had joined him. The man stood looking at them; his face was painted with rage, but still so beautiful, almost unearthly so. He smiled at them, a large grin. His teeth were all lined up, shining pearls; the larger man couldn't help thinking of how much money he could make selling his body parts; cutting those long arms off; chopping those slender fingers; surgically removing those bright blue eyes.... Almost as if he had heard his musings, the man snarled and reached for him, bringing him up with one hand. He looked in his eyes, shook his head with disgust, then threw him against the wall. The smaller man watched with fear as his boss of sorts crumpled. The man who had no business being as strong as he was, with his lithe body, focused solely on the younger burglar; he bent down and grabbed his chin; he conveyed to him to end his involvement; any other course of action would only result in bloodshed; then, for good measure, he made him join his boss. Looking down at the two figures, he shook his head at the thought of draining them; it would do no good- not even to himself; he had already fed and overdoing it never helped. Perhaps, the citizenry would benefit from the removal of two thieves, but he was no vigilante. He picked the two up, checked if they had any of his belongings on them and found that they didn't, traipsed through his apartment, looked out, and seeing no one, carried them to the trash chute; they would wake up in the dumpster in the alley. Reentering his bedroom, he removed all of his belongings from their bags and set them back where they belonged. He then threw the sacks down the chute where they would reunite with their owners- and hopefully be used for better tasks- if not, he would do what he had not done tonight; he would not always have fed before encountering them, after all. He smirked slightly at the notion before returning to his abode. The sky was beginning to lighten; he could feel it before he looked up. Sure enough, the pangs in his chest were accurate; dawn was not far. He stood and watched the sky lighten as long as he could bear. When the pain got to be too much, he made sure all doors were locked and crawled into bed. He lay awake until agony overwhelmed him.