His face crumbles and I realize for one moment we both forgot my situation. That it doesn't matter who's in love with who because soon there will be no me to be in love with.

"Oh, Rayne," he murmurs, swiping at the b.l.o.o.d.y tears that spring from the corners of his eyes.

He doesn't need to say anything else. I know exactly what he's thinking. He finally allowed himself to love again, and now he's going to lose again.

Sometimes destiny is, like, so unfair.

30

THURSDAY, JUNE 14, 3 p.m.

Vampires Suck

I should have never trusted Jareth. I knew better. I absolutely I knew better!

I can't believe I shared all that stuff with him. Opened up for the first time and told him things. Things I haven't told anyone.

About my dad. About my failed relationships. About how scared and lonely I am half the time. How I'm sick of pretending I don't care about anything or anyone when I probably care more deeply than anything and anyone I know.

He seemed so genuine. So caring and sweet. He told me his sob story. About his family. Slayer Inc. He told me he was in love with me. He told me he'd stick by my side and not give up. He told me he'd try to find the antidote.

But now he's gone. Disappeared. I'm lying here in my bed, dying, and he's nowhere to be found.

After our night on the beach, the virus kicked in with a vengeance and I've been bedridden ever since, sick as a dog.

Everything aches and I'm so weak I can barely sit up. And the only thing I am pining for is Jareth. I want to see him one last time before I die. To feel his hands on me and hear his gentle voice whisper in my ear, telling me everything is going to be okay.

So where the h.e.l.l is he? I hate men. Vampires. People in general. You know, in a way I'm effing glad to effing die. At least then the pain will end. The hurt and anguish and suffering that I feel on a daily basis will slip away as I'm carried over the abyss. The soothing waters of death will claim me and everyone will be sorry and they'll cry and say, "Oh what a great girl" when gawking at my body during the wake and funeral. And maybe my dad will show up and he'll be so sorry that he never took the time to know me.

Yeah, my death will serve them right.

31

THURSDAY, JUNE 14 (CONTINUED)

Waiting for Death

Sorry about that earlier rant. I was just so mad I could hardly see. Or maybe that's just a symptom of the horrible sickness.

It's totally taken hold now. I feel like I have mono and the chicken pox and the bubonic plague, all rolled into one. I'm handwriting this, because I'm too weak to sit at the computer.

My mom is freaking-out worried and she doesn't even know the half of it. She takes me to a dozen doctors and they run a ton of tests, but no one can figure out what's wrong with me, of course, and in the end, they just send me home, having no idea this sickness is fatal.

Luckily Mom has David to take care of her. And he's a master at calming her down. At least I can die knowing I'm not leaving her all alone.

Sunny's a mess, too. Somehow she has figured out a way to blame herself for all of this. If Magnus hadn't bit her by mistake to begin with then I'd be a vampire, not a slayer. And I'd never have been at the Blood Bar, thus Maverick would never have been able to infect me. I try to remind her that then Magnus would have gotten infected through Rachel and Charity and, as his blood mate, I would have gotten infected through him.

In the end, I still die. It seems my destiny. I hope they've got a good backup slayer.

The vamps and Slayer Inc. have been working furiously to come up with an antidote from the virus sample we stole, but haven't had any luck. If they only had more time, they say. But my time is nearly up. If I'm average, I'll probably die tomorrow. If I'm lucky, I may live one more day.

The way I feel right now, I'd rather just die and get it over with.

I've been thinking about death a lot as I lie in my bed, staring up at the ceiling, while everyone hustles around to make sure I have everything I need to be as comfortable as possible. What will it be like? Where will I go? What will people do when I'm gone? Will they follow my wishes and play Bauhaus at my funeral?

My dad hasn't come. That's the most infuriating thing. I thought for sure when Sunny called him and told him I was dying that he'd be on the next plane. I don't know why. Instead he laughed her off and said she was being overly dramatic.

I hate him.

Him and Jareth.

After Jareth brought me back from the beach, he said he had some things to take care of and that he'd be back. But he hasn't been. And as I lay here dying, the one person my heart aches for is not here. I try not to care. I try to rebuild the wall, as that old band Pink Floyd would have advised. Try to regain my black ice princess sh.e.l.l that Mike Stevens always teases me about. The one where I don't care about anyone or anything. But the ice has melted. I'm vulnerable. Cut open and bleeding.

I listen to the Smiths. The Cure. Depeche Mode. The crooning eighties New Wave singers seem to understand. They're the only ones who do.

Jareth tried to warn me. He said he didn't ever get close to people. He's so similar to me in that respect. Afraid of opening up, of caring for another person. And maybe in a way he's right. He allowed himself to care for his family and they were killed.

Now, he allowed himself to care for me and I'm about to kick the bucket myself.

In the end, we all die alone. Maybe it's better to have never loved at all.

Sorry, someone's at the door. More chicken soup, I bet. I'll write more later.

32

THURSDAY, JUNE 14 (CONTINUED)

Dad. Yes, Dad.

Jareth enters the room and comes to sit in the chair beside my bed. His hair is all tousled, his eyes bloodshot, and it looks like he hasn't slept in days. In fact, if I'm not mistaken he's still wearing the same outfit from the night we went to the Blood Bar.

"Where have you been?" I ask weakly. A few minutes ago I would have rather died than questioned him. Let him know I care. But I'm too sick to be strong, kick-a.s.s Rayne at the moment.

"Vegas," he says.

I raise my eyebrows. "Uh, okay. Win anything?" I can't believe he was off gambling as I lay dying. I mean, I know poker is hot and all, but couldn't he have waited a couple days for that straight flush?

"I got what I went for, if that's what you mean."

"What, a lap dance?"

He chuckles. "Even sick, you're still funny, Rayne."

"Barrel of laughs, that's me," I say sarcastically, closing my eyes. I've become real sensitive to light these days and even more sensitive to seeing Jareth.

"Open your eyes, Rayne," Jareth commands.

Reluctantly I obey Then open them even wider when I see what-I mean who-is standing behind Jareth.

"Dad?" I croak hoa.r.s.ely. Am I hallucinating now?

"Hi, kiddo. I'm so sorry you're not feeling well."

For a moment, I'm still not convinced he's real as he walks over to my bed and sits down on the side. He's older looking then I remember, a little gray at his temples and in his beard. But overall, he still looks the same. Still looks like my dad.

I turn to look back at Jareth. "How . . . ?" I ask.

Dad smiles down at me. "This man of yours is very convincing, Rayne. He showed up at my doorstep one evening and said I had to come with him. That you needed me."

My heart pangs in my chest. Here I was blaming Jareth for disappearing and all along he'd been out hunting for the one thing he knew I needed more than anything.

"I'll leave you two to talk," the vampire says, walking to the door.

"Jareth," I call after him. He stops and turns back to look at me. "Thank you," I say.

He smiles the sweetest smile and nods, before turning and walking out the door. I smile back, my heart overflowing. G.o.d, I love that vampire. At least when I die, I'll die in love.

I turn back to my dad, noticing a few beads of sweat have formed on his forehead even though it's definitely not too hot in my room. He's nervous. Well, he d.a.m.n well should be, after what he's done. And just because he's here now, doesn't mean I will let him off the hook.

"Thanks for coming," I say, forcing myself to be civil.

"Rayne, I'm so sorry to hear you've been sick. What do the doctors say? Is there anything they can do? A hospital we can send you to? Anything. I'll pay whatever it costs. Just tell your mother to send me the bill. I want you to get better."

He sounds so concerned. Is this what it had to take? I had to die to get his attention?

"The doctors don't know what's wrong," I say wearily. It really is an effort to talk today. "There's nothing they can do."

"Oh, my darling," he says, his voice breaking. "I hate to see you like this."

"You hate to see me at all, apparently."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Uh, h.e.l.lo? Birthday party? Balloons and presents and cake? Last week? Any of that ring a bell to you?"

His face crumbles. "I'm a terrible father," he says, staring down at his hands. I realize he's developed liver spots. He can't be old enough to have liver spots, can he?

"I'm not saying that," I protest, though, of course, I have been saying that all week. But it's unbearable for me to see him look so guilty. "It's just. . . well, we haven't seen you in years, Dad. And we were . . . looking forward to it."

A war is raging inside of me at this point. The old Rayne wants to be bitter and hateful and sarcastic and mean. She wants to cut him down and make him feel the hurt that she's felt because of him. To make him think she doesn't give a c.r.a.p that he didn't show because he means absolutely nothing to her.

But the new Rayne, the one that is loved by Jareth, wonders if she has the strength to be honest with him. To admit that he hurt her and give him the chance to make things right. The new Rayne wonders if he has a reason for his actions. The new Rayne wonders if he, too, walks around with a hard sh.e.l.l of indifference to hide his inner turmoil.

The new Rayne knows that this man gave life to her. And that he may not have always been there, but he's there now. The new Rayne wants to give him a chance. "You hurt my feelings when you didn't show," I admit, dying inside at the admission. Before today I wouldn't have told anyone that ever. But in a weird way, as soon as I say it, I feel a little better. "I waited for you until one a.m. The others all went to bed. I was sure you'd walk through that door with a birthday cake in hand. I believed in you, Dad. And you let me down."

Dad nods slowly, still staring at his hands. His eyes blink a few times too fast and I wonder if he's holding back tears. Tears!

I never, ever thought in a million years I'd see my dad cry.

"Rayne, I can't do anything but apologize to you for that," he says at last, his voice sounding more than a bit froggy. "I feel so terrible. It's just. . . well, I got scared."

I raise an eyebrow. "Scared?"

"I know I've been a lousy dad. Running away from responsibility and family and everyone who loved me. Your mother, who has always been so sweet. You and Sunny, the most wonderful daughters a father could ever hope for. I felt, somehow, that I didn't deserve you. I'm so rotten inside, Rayne. I've done terrible things. And I felt that by leaving I would protect you two from all of that. I knew your mother would take care of you. Raise you right. You didn't need me s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g everything up." He shrugs.

"Basically I got scared. Weird, huh? Scared because suddenly people needed me. Because they loved me. Sounds so dumb when I say it out loud."

It's at that moment I realize how much he really is my dad. And it makes me burst into tears. "Dad, I don't need you. But I do love you," I admit. "I've always loved you. That's why it hurts so much when you stay away."

"I've been feeling guilty about the whole thing for so long," Dad continues. "Then your sister sent me that e-mail about your birthday and I realized that was my chance to make things right. I mean, coming to a birthday doesn't make up for four years of wrongs, but I thought perhaps it'd be a start. A chance to reconnect with you two and come back into your lives." He swallows hard. "But then I got the e-mail back from Sunny when I accepted her invitation. She sounded so happy, so excited. I panicked again. I didn't know what I was doing. How I'd be able to face you two after all that had happened. So I took the coward's way out. I didn't show."

He scrubs his face with his hands. "I'm so sorry, Raynie girl. I screwed everything up, once again. And now here I am and you're so sick and I don't want to lose you."

It takes all my strength to sit up in bed, but I do it. Because right at this moment I need a hug. A hug from my father. I put out my arms and he wraps his around me, pulling me close. He squeezes me into the big bear hug I remember as a kid, though today his arms don't seem as strong. Probably because he's shaking. I bury my head in his shoulder and cry.