Notes: AU. Set some time after the 'dairy boy' incident. Simon and Alisha aren't together, but are instead close friends. Nathan never met Marnie and never went to Las Vegas.

Chapter 1: Always Him

Nathan felt weird.

His eyes burned and his head felt fuzzy. He didn't understand. Why was the world clouding? It wasn't like he had done anything but drink a few beers. Okay, maybe he'd had a couple shots, too, but he should know that getting' drunk didn't make him feel this funny. At least, it usually didn't.

Either way, his body felt completely different from normal, and with no warning, he felt a breeze of Déjà' Vu. Without bothering to think much of it, the curly haired boy walked out of the club without so much as a wave to his friends. People around him called his name, wanted to have a good chat with the funny and clever Nathan Young, but he couldn't hear them. They were so far away, just like his mind was.

The second he began to feel like his thoughts weren't connected to his body, he knew that something was really wrong. And still, he couldn't piece together the clues. He couldn't remember that he'd felt this same way the night his brother died.

So off he walked, outside of the club and into the dark, cool night. His skin lingered with a sweat, half from the dancing and half from an unknown dread. A shaky hand ran through his hair and he looked around without really seeing.

What was out there? He didn't know. In fact, he didn't even know where his car was. Wait, he didn't have a car. How did he get here, then? Hell, he didn't know. All he knew was that he felt sick- and that an odd dread was still clinging to his smooth, warm skin.

"Fuck it," he mumbled before heading past the parking lot. So what if he didn't know how he got there? He sure as hell knew how he was getting home, and that was by walking.

The walk was pretty normal during the beginning. Despite his heavy panting, Nathan didn't bother to reach through his mind to pick out the warnings of emerging danger. Only when it started to rain did the boy grow weary, feeling as if something lurked deep within the shadows.

He didn't really know what the hell was wrong with him. If he were drunk right now, he'd be hollering into the creepy night, beckoning the shadows (whether they're there or not) to come fight him, followed by some crude comment about being pussy. If he were drunk, he'd have confidence.

But he wasn't drunk, he was on drugs- that part was evident now. And although, for the most part, Nathan felt like himself, he didn't have the courage to face whatever he knew was following him.

So when a foot stomped into a large puddle, making a splash only a few feet behind Nathan, all he could do was run.

He wasn't only running because he was scared, though. He was running because he'd realized what was happening.

Someone had drugged him, probably on purpose. And what happened when he was on drugs?

Well, he could die. And Nathan couldn't have that.

So off he went, attempting to concentrate on the road ahead of him yet failing miserably. One simple slip on water sent him flying, and before he could scramble up, he was kicked down to the floor by a heavy boot.

Nathan flipped over, breathing rigid and quick.

"Listen, bloke, take my money. I've barely got a dime on me, I swear it- my wallet's bone dry."

A kick to the face and he shut up.

There was a gleam of light from above him. The man, holding what appeared to be a knife, had a ski mask covering his face. Too bad. He wanted to see what kind of dick would drug and kill someone. Fine, fine, Nathan at least participated in the crime of killing people before. But he never meant to do any of it in malice!

The stranger's arm shot down, pocket knife still glinting by the moon. Nathan barely had time to move. All he could handle was stretching up a few inches.

The knife, which would have pierced his heart, entered his body a bit lower than that.

The boy gasped in pain, blood slowly beginning to stain his shirt. Hot tears burned his eyes and he swallowed, groaning on the floor in immediate agony.

"Fucking bloody hell," he spit out, but the words were forced out as a grumbling mess, and not even he himself could understand what he'd said.

The robber (was he a robber?) before him grunted in frustration, and his arm shot back up- he was aiming for the heart now, wasn't he? Oh, please no. Nathan couldn't die because of one stupid night. He was immortal… he had expected eternal life. Sure, he hated it, but he sure as hell didn't want to die now. Not at the peak of his life.

"Nathan?"

The brunette could've cried in relief, but was instead too preoccupied with the increasing pain in his chest.

It was Simon. That damn weird kid was good for something, wasn't he?

The man in the mask bolted, knife still gripped tightly in his palm. But Nathan didn't really give a shit if the man got away or not- he was too worried about not dying and all that.

"Nathan!" Simon exclaimed with his heavy accent, rushing to the thinner boy's side. His eyebrows creased and he looked at the wound on Nathan's body with shock and worry. But eventually his face flowed with relief when he realized what would happen. "Good thing you're immortal. You die more than anyone I know."

The other boy laughed before coughing, a tiny bit of blood spilling over his lips. His head felt heavy, as did his eyes. He closed them, feeling too tired to keep them open any longer.

"Barry," he whispered, blood creating a static over his voice. "I was drugged."

Simon shook his head. "Drugged and killed it the same night… you have got to be more careful." He wanted to lift Nathan's head and sit it into his lap- for comfort, of course. But he felt that would give Nathan the wrong idea, and refrained from doing so.

"M-Moron," Nathan chocked out, hand drifting from his wound to his neck. His throat hurt so badly, but he had to talk. Had to explain. "Power… My power is reversed." This came out more like 'powwer s'vered', but by the recognition on Simon's face, Nathan assumed his message got through.

"Gon'… die soon.."

And Simon's face contorted into that of a scorching pain. His breath caught in his throat, feeling as if he'd got the wind knocked out of him.

Nathan would never be able to explain what he saw in Simon's expression on that very moment, but it was a deep, dark pain, as if he'd just lost the thing most precious to him.

And then the curly haired boy began to lose consciousness. He felt strong arms wrap around him and lift him off the ground, and even though Nathan was almost positive that a wounded person wasn't supposed to be moved, he was glad that his friend had taken such a protective approach.

Simon's face hardened with determination, as if he wasn't going to lose anyone. Nathan could hear him muttering, "You'll be fine, you'll be okay. You're not going to die… you can't die," over and over again to himself, a strained struggle in his voice- and before Nathan knew it, the darkness and pain washed over him.


I hope you guys like it so far! If I get a good responses, I'll absolutely continue right away! xoxo