Two bodies moved together in the light of a full moon in a clearing among tall Irish trees. Gasps and moans could be heard coming from the two as they clung together in their desparate, passionate act of love and desire. Broad hands tipped with sharp claws held on to the man in his lap whose arms were wrapped around the other's shoulders, head thrown back in ecstacy.

Though a big man himself, Brady Declan was not as large as the man he was clinging to, who was calling himself Dimere.

"This must," Brady gasped out, "Be some sort of a sin."

"And why," the other asked, his Transylvanian accent coming through his husky voice, "do you think that?"

A moan from Brady was his only answer as Dimere thrust deeply into his human lover. After regaining a little composure, Brady was able to gasp out his answer. "Because things that feel this good are always sins."

An almost-feral grin spread across Dimere's lips, showing elongated pearly white teeth. "Well then," he started. "Let me show you more of my evil."

As fast as lightning, Dimere moved the two of them, making Brady lay on his back, his legs twined around Dimere's waist. The latter sped up his pace, practically pounding the young man under him into the the ground. I only a few moments Brady was screaming Dimere's name, as the two came together in their heated passion.

After catching his breath, brady was the first to speak. In all seriousness, he asked, "Was that a sin? Against God?"

Dimere chuckled. "No. Love is never a sin in the sight of God."

Satisfied with his answer, Brady sighed and the two of them untangled themselves from eah other. Laying there together, Brady wrapped in his arms, Dimere hoped that, maybe, just maybe, Brady would stay with him, and love him forever.

*****

9 Months Later:

Brady was slowly waking up. He vaguely hoped that the last year of his life was all just a nightmare. Feeling the tiny bundle in his arms, however, took away that hope.

Shortly after he had awaken fully, the door to his room opened and a rather exhausted looking Dimere hesitantly stepped inside.

"Good morning, Brady." He said, half smiling, showing off those long, sharp pearly canine teeth.

Brady only glared at Dimere in response at first. Then, after what seemed an eternity to Dimere, Brady spoke.

"I hate you."

Dimere's black heart sank and he hung his head.

"You are a thing of evil." Brady continued. "If God were in this room, you would be set to burn! You are evil and you used your evil to seduce me...to plant your cold dead seed inside my body and give me this!" He shouted, indicating the little boy in his arms.

Quietly, Dimere spoke, "If you do not want him, then I will take him and raise him." He looked up at Brady from across the room. Brady's eyes blazed with a hatred so intense that Hell itself seemed to reside within them.

"You will not touch this child! As soon as my strength returns, I will take him and leave." Brady's arms tightened around the tiny bundle, as if shielding the little one from the very evil he believed to be standing at his door. "By the power of God, you will never see this child again! you will have nothing to do with him, not now, not ever will you be able to see, touch, speak to him, or even hear his voice! I will never let your evil touch him!"

The emotion behind it drove the curse against Dimere to become real. He was driven out of the room, and the door slammed in his face.

"Brady!" He shouted. He pounded on the door, shouted his name and pounded again. From inside there was no sound, nothing that would meet Dimere's demands of letting him see his child.

*****

2 Weeks Later:

Dimere waited in his tower, hoping to catch a glimse of Brady and the baby as they were leaving. He saw Brady, but the baby's face was in shadow.

Angry, he stormed down to the main hall and caught the midwife as she was getting ready to leave.

"Woman! Tell me what the child looked like!" he demanded, his grip on her arm stong and most likely leaving bruises.

Remaining as calm as she could, she explained that the child had very dark hair and the face of an angel. This calmed Dimere somewhat and his grip on her arm loosened.

His voice, also more calm, asked, "Did he name the baby? What did he name him?"

"Liam Angelus, sir." she said.

Dimere smiled. So the baby's name meant 'determined guardian angel'. He had to admit that it was a good name. His smile faded, however, as he remembered the curse shouted at him.

Looking at the midwife his blood boiled and his stomach growled. Quickly wrapping her in his arms he sank his teeth into her neck and drank deeply. She didn't have time to scream, not that it would have done her any good; no one would have heard her anyway. While drinking he considered turning her. He needed a new bride anyway, and Mariska was beautiful.