For several months, I visited the places my Ana loved. I visited the Caribbean and stayed in the same room we had the last time in this small village. I spent our anniversary in Milan like we had several years before. I went to Santorini and walked the beach barefoot, just as she had done. I ended up in Morocco because of a dream I had while in Greece about an abandoned castle. Ana and I had seen this ancient palace while passing through Chefchaouen. I recalled Ana having joked and told me she wanted to turn it into a home and live there, filling it with our children. This was before we knew she couldn't have children. I bought the castle, paid for reconstruction, and instructed the contractor to turn it into a home fit for a large family.

I visited London and walked Hyde Park because Ana loved the walkways and fountains, and the park was always full of children. Ana grieved about not being able to bear children. While in Europe, I went to some museums to admire the artwork she loved, making sure to visit the Louvre and see Vincent Van Gogh's work in France. Ana adored Van Gogh.

I returned to Italy and saw Giovanni and Estelle; they were happily married with two additional babies, and the restaurant was doing well. Angela was a doctor in the town where Ana and I met her. She was thrilled to see me, but she cried when I told her the news of Ana's passing. She informed me about her schooling and how her youngest brother was in his last year of medical school. Due to the grief, the loss, and the lack of blood intake, no one worried or wondered why I had not aged. I suppose the sadness added to my appearance. I returned to North Carolina two years later; John and Alma were exceptionally busy as grandparents. Both of them, profoundly concerned over my well-being, begged me to stay, but the house and the city weren't the same without her. I explained to them that if I went into the city, people would recognize me and wonder why I had not aged since Ana and I married. I explained to them how I usually avoided any chance of being found out as an immortal.

I stayed for as long as my heart would let me; I spent hours at Ana's grave. I talked to her and cried. I couldn't withstand the sheer emptiness. That was the last time I saw John TallTree and his wife and children, and I think Alma knew it would be the last time she saw me. John embraced me in a bear hug and wished me a swift journey to finding Ana's soul once again. Alma gave me a picture she had drawn many years ago. Ana and I were sitting on the porch, her on my lap. It was beautiful; her artwork had always been exceptional.

The picture was a magnificent gift. I hugged her and then thanked her. It was the best gift anyone could've ever given me; besides returning my Ana, I kept the drawing. I framed and preserved it so that I could always remember it. I can even remember that exact day and our emotions and feelings; I don't need a picture to remember her face.

I don't think I could forget her face or how she looked beautiful and radiant in the morning. The way that she laughed and her adorable giggles. The way that she closed her eyes and moaned when sweet and decadent flavors pleased her. I miss the touch of her hand. I miss the smell of her hair. I miss her breath on my neck. I miss the whispers in my ear. I miss the moans. I miss the looks of pleasure and her delight as she orgasms. I miss bathing and washing her, spoiling her with shopping sprees. I missed falling asleep with her head on my chest, her hair like a crimson waterfall cascading around us. I miss everything about her. The pain inside me had made life meaningless—indescribable loneliness. My words cannot do it justice. I wouldn't wish this on anyone. I roamed aimlessly for the next several years, lost in my misery. I returned to New York to our home and lived secluded for ten years after her passing. The pain is still as intense, but I think I have learned to grow accustomed to it. I expected it every second of every day.

It was thirteen years after Ana's passing, the first time that I sexually touched another woman. She worked the streets at night, and I'd run across her here several times. She had a petite body and red hair. I paid her handsomely to return to my home. I warned her about my size, and she reassured me not to worry. I asked her to wear black lingerie with a garter belt I purchased that day. I told her to keep her hair down and not to speak. She willingly agreed to continue, even after my warning and instructions. I bent her over, only the garter belt, her ass, and her long red hair visible.

I took out so much emotion, so much pain, and so much built-up sadness and lust. I called Ana's name. Even though she'd been accustomed to various sizes of men, my cock was still too big for her. She began to scream in pain as my depth and speed increased. I asked her if she wanted me to stop. She didn't respond to me, and she didn't cease yelling either, so I bit my finger and shoved it in her mouth. My blood stopped the pain, and she started screaming, which became moans of pleasure. I continued fucking her over and over. I made her orgasm many times in ecstasy. She called my name, and in my mind, all I could hear was Ana's voice. I began to feel my cock hardening even more as I closed my eyes and remembered all the times I made love to my Ana.

I was close to cumming; I could feel it building up inside of me. Just before I was about to cum. I turned her around, took her by the head, and shoved my cock in her mouth and down her throat. The only thing I could see was her red hair and her face buried against me, and she swallowed my cum; she started to gag from the sheer amount, but I didn't take my cock out of her until I emptied everything I had built up.

She didn't want to leave. She begged me to let her stay, saying that she would stay for free and do anything. I told her that that was not an option, and she began to cry desperately. I felt remorse wash over me.

She and I talked for several hours. During our conversations, she revealed the stark realities of her life on the streets, describing a vivid picture of the dangers lurking in the shadows of Depression-era New York. She spoke of the desperation that drove girls like her into such dangers—the constant fear of violence and exploitation. As she shared the painful circumstances that led her to this plight, it became clear that her journey was not one of choice but of necessity. Her family's cruel decision to throw her out in the hope of saving money. They believed she was old enough to fend for herself, but she was just a girl when her parents discarded her. This action left her with no alternative but to sell her body every night, even if it meant risking her life and soul in the process.

While in New York, I ensured she was cared for, paying her for her services and renting a safe and comfortable place to call home. As I prepared to leave the city, I couldn't shake the thought of her struggles and what my Ana would have wanted me to do for this girl. I purchased the place I'd been renting, leaving her the deed along with $10,000 and a simple note: "Find happiness - Gabriel." This gesture was my way of quietly recognizing her struggles and resilience, offering her a chance at a fresh start, liberated from the burdens of her past. I hoped it would empower her and grant her the dignity she deserved, away from the harsh realities of street life. Though I sensed she wanted more from me, perhaps even my love, I knew this act was the most meaningful gift I could offer her. For me, she was the redhead I fucked; there had never been anything more, no emotions or feelings. I always had a sense of morality and knew what was right and wrong, and I felt it was only fitting to pay her for the services she provided me in the release that she allowed me.

I returned to New Orleans and our townhome, where memories of Ana filled every corner. She adored the French Quarter, and I found solace in being close to the places we once frequented. Marcel Gerard, the vampire who ruled the Big Easy, often crossed my path, extending an invitation for dinner or to his club, which I consistently declined. However, my curiosity was piqued when Marcel mentioned his ties to the Original Vampire Family.

Intrigued by the lore surrounding them, I ultimately accepted Marcel's offer and joined him for drinks at his club. Through our conversation, I gained valuable insight into the Mikaelson family. As I dove deeper into the city's supernatural underbelly, reflecting on my conversation with Marcel, I remembered his tale of the Original Vampire Family. The family wields immense power as the first vampires ever created. Marcel spoke of his bond with Klaus and his siblings. Once Klaus's protégé, Marcel rose to prominence in New Orleans, creating a complex dynamic between mentorship, rivalry, and alliances. Through Marcel's stories, I gained insights into the dynamics of the Mikaelson family and their influence over the city's supernatural community.

January 1942

As news of the Nazi Germans' aggression spread, it became clear that our world was changing, and I couldn't sit idly by.

The decision to join was easy. The emptiness that filled me now began to show itself not just as pain but aggression as well. I noticed that many of my abilities appeared to strengthen as I consumed blood and began feeding more often. I still kept my morals, but I wouldn't drain anyone unless they had been proven to be unfit to exist due to their atrocities. I allowed myself to be judge, jury, and executor on nightly excursions. I quickly learned who was in charge of the Royal Army and used my persuasion power to enter the military as a Brigadier General.

By the end of 1942, I had been promoted to Major General, which wasn't absurd. I had years of experience on the battlefield and leading troops. I've done it throughout the centuries. I volunteered to go into the frontline, putting me in charge of 425 men. We initially started maintaining and supporting other forces from other countries around Switzerland and France.

My ability to read people's thoughts allows my soldiers to stay two steps ahead of the enemy. Sensing emotions, such as fear and anxiety, had its benefits, not just for my soldier's well-being but to know when the enemy was close to surrendering. I've never tried to reverse my calming effect and cause hostility or chaos; it's not in my nature.

I did a lot of late-night secret scouting. I could move in and out of places; my speed allowed me to avoid humans. My reflexes allowed me to go on notice, and if the occasion did arrive where someone might have seen me, I would merely persuade them that they had never seen me before or that I was part of their group. March of that year is when I discovered plans coming down from leaders inside the Third Reich; more concentration camps were going up all over Europe. These bastards called them extermination vacations. It was rumored that these orders came straight from Hitler. I had run into several of my kind, like me, who are drawn to the idea of battle and war.

Many vampires want to help those in need. While some join the fight just for the amount of blood available, a battlefield is like a buffet. The wounded hallucinate, thinking they saw demons, and, of course, people write it off as shock or loss of blood. So, with little concern about being exposed, my kind exploited war for this reason. The particular vampire that I met was unique. He was 150 years old and quite mature for his age. He also possessed the power of persuasion. Talking to and getting to know him a bit better was exceedingly helpful; knowing that there was an infiltrator on the German side was very beneficial to everyone fighting against this evil tyranny.

Many nights, both of us set out on patrol missions together, wreaking havoc on Nazi forces. It was nice to converse with someone in my native language. He had a significant amount of respect for me regarding age and ability, and he also had quite a crush on me. His not being able to read minds would be helpful. He asked me one night if I was married. I told him yes, and her name was Ana; soon after that, thoughts about him with me in many erotic ways slowly faded from his mind. At one point in time, before I ever met Ana, I would've probably been attracted to this man, myself, and something could've blossomed between the two of us, but I know it would've never been forever. It would've never been real. It would've only been physical desire and lust.

Instead, a lovely friendship developed between Alexander and me, and the two of us were able to cause much disarray, chaos, and complete failure of many of the Nazi Germany plans and actions on the battlefield around July; my men had seen their fair share of action, and we had been successful with maintaining peace and backing off the German forces.

My men are given a two-day break in the big city closest to us. Many took advantage of this time off to celebrate victory and escape this war; it provided time for them to reach out to family. With my soldiers in high spirits, we took off towards Mulhouse in the Haut-Rhin. The city's people were welcoming and warm, and there wasn't much they wouldn't do to help those fighting for them, especially the women. Everyone did quite a bit of drinking and fucking during our leave. Several of my men had come into this war as virgins. I don't believe that any of them walked out of France still virgins.

The first night out with my men for a few drinks, I found a petite redhead who insisted on telling me everything there was to learn about her as we sat in this bar. Her name was Celeste, and she was probably the most talkative person I'd ever met, but she was also the only redhead that I had seen in town. My propensity for redheads had not changed. I told her very honestly that I was not looking to become romantic. Many of my men discussed romance with these women and their marriage plans after this war. I let her know precisely what this was. I also informed her by taking her small hand and placing it between my legs so she was aware of my size, and she reassured me that she was more than capable of handling me. She and I stayed in a hotel for those two days.

She was a sweet, charming girl; she could talk someone's ear off but could take all of me; it was an even trade. She said she had never had an orgasm before, and she had been with many men. I told her I was pleased that I could bring her pleasure. She asked me why I was so sad and why there was such sorrow in my eyes, and she was the first person I spoke to about my grief for Ana. I showed a picture of Ana; she said she was stunningly beautiful and asked me if she was a redhead. I said yes, and a sweet smile of sorrow and knowledge spread across her face. She looked at me and said, " Gabriel, I can be Ana for you tonight. You call me her name and tell me what to do—things she would have done. I want to make sure you can find a moment of happiness. With that, I broke down. I cried so hard that my body shook. As I cried, this tiny, petite girl held me and comforted me.

I was so embarrassed, and she assured me she would never speak of this to anyone. I believed her wholeheartedly.

As I was leaving town with my men, I got her information, name, and address, and then I gave her mine in New York. I let her know that I didn't know when I'd be able to contact her, but I would like to contact her just to let her know that I was alive and to make sure she was okay. She said that would be nice. I worried she would develop feelings like the girl in New York had, but she was very sweet and didn't have any ideas in her head; this would be a romantic, long-term relationship. She knew what this was, and she was professional, but she was compassionate and caring when I needed that the most.

A year and a half later, when I could, I sent $20,000 to Celeste, and I told her that I would love to see her buy herself a home with this money and maybe find someone who would treat her well. I told her I never wanted her work to be selling herself to anyone ever again.

During another of our brief visits to this small French town, I encountered a man whose thoughts were of the vile things he'd done to his five-year-old daughter last night as his wife slept. His mind was consumed by thoughts of unspeakable cruelty as he eagerly anticipated repeating his actions. With a mix of revulsion and determination, I acted swiftly, draining him. I made sure he knew I was going to kill him. I wanted to feel the fear oozing from him, and I did. He died in sheer terror. This deed allowed me a twisted sense of satisfaction in ridding the world of a monster, even if just for a moment, and the additional boost to my vampiric abilities saved several of my men that night. I was able to hear an incoming assault miles before it arrived. This upper hand won us the ground advantage, and my squad gained their infamous name, "Hell Squad," that night.

The next night, unease was in the air. I spoke with Alexander the night before his troops were ordered to retreat. He wished me luck, and I told him to stay safe and never let them find out he worked against the Germans. The news of the German forces retreating ramped up my troop's morale. My connection with my men grew stronger, making us a relentless force. Yet the loneliness of loss continued to haunt me. Ana's memory was a constant companion; her absence left a void that could never be filled.

As a high-ranking officer, my days were a whirlwind of planning and leading, consumed by the relentless demands of war. I worked tirelessly to ensure the safety of my troops, coordinating with other officials, attending meetings, and conducting briefings. But no matter how busy I kept myself, Ana's absence loomed large, a reminder of my lost love and the darkness that constantly threatened to consume me.

Orders came down, pushing us further into enemy territory around Christmas and amplifying our risk.

I couldn't help but feel a knot tighten in my stomach as I considered the implications. Every step forward meant delving deeper into the heart of danger, exposing my men to even greater peril. Yet, as a leader, I had to steel myself, projecting an aura of confidence and determination even as doubts gnawed at my mind.

The landscape around us transformed, becoming more hostile with each passing mile. The air was tense, and every shadow seemed to hide unseen threats. The day after Christmas, our world shattered with the deafening roar of bombs, and I watched helplessly as several of my men fell victim to the relentless aerial assault. Our flack cannons deterred and prevented more devastation from occurring. As the battlefield shifted to trench warfare, the injuries piled up, each one a painful reminder of the brutality of war. On January 17, 1943, news of reinforcements brought a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos. Yet, every day felt like a whirlwind, and with the constant barrage of violence and destruction, it left me feeling like I never had everything under control.

Even as a vampire, I marveled at how humans managed to maintain their sanity, muster the energy, and fortify their minds to keep up with the relentless barrage of sensory input and the weight of the ceaseless chaos of war.

In that fleeting moment, the battlefield erupted into a hellish symphony of destruction. Above, the sky was a flurry of chaos streaked with the trails of roaring aircraft and the fiery bursts of exploding bombs. The ground trembled beneath my feet as artillery shells pounded the earth, sending plumes of dirt and debris skyward. The air was thick with the acrid stench of smoke and burning metal, mingling with the metallic tang of blood that hung heavy in my nostrils.

Amidst the cacophony, the cries and screams of pain and suffering from my fellow soldiers pierced the air, a haunting song of agony amidst the chaos of war. Every sound, from the deafening roar of engines to the sharp crack of gunfire, reverberated through my senses with an intensity that bordered on pain.

January 29, 1943

The new forces brought some hope to the otherwise bleak situation. Seeing the fresh faces and new equipment that came with them was heartening. The surgeons, nurses, and aids were an especially welcome sight, as they were desperately needed to treat the wounded. The news of a third medic tent brought a needed sense of relief. It was clear that they were determined to do their part in the ongoing conflict. Despite the chaos in the sky, the ground remained eerily calm. We knew it was only a matter of time before the next wave of attacks, but we were grateful for the temporary respite. It gave us a chance to regroup and prepare for the grim unknown.