What's this? Honestly, I don't know. I just wanted to write a gay vampire AU, and it ended up turning into something. It's easy, lazy writing I do when I'm really tired after class, so please don't expect a ton of historical accuracy out of this one. Don't expect anything about of this one really. My girlfriend said I had to post this here so she could read it on her phone. Here you go, Blusey, you butt.

There's some minor gore in this one, so be wary. I apologize for any mistakes, and I hope you enjoy something somehow.

Next time that young head priest took a walk by himself late at night, he would not have the chance to sneak up on me. Next time he would face me head-on, and I would be the last thing he saw.

For now all I could do was vengefully bleed on the church carpet. I'd left the stake through my shoulder, the spike visible from the corner of my eye. Even with the wound clogged, my blood still seeped out to ruin my clothes and dripped to the floor. It may have shown my trail, but I doubted he would notice it. Presumably, he was still back in the forest surrounding his church. I'd departed faster than his eyes could keep up, and priests had a tendency to think my kind couldn't set foot in a church.

They were quite wrong, of course.

I could smell someone else just down the hall. The gentle drum of their heartbeat pulsed in my ears as though it could have been my own. They would be the one to heal this ugly wound.

The church halls were as dark as a starless night, but I could see just fine. Every corner and ridge of the old stone walls stood out in a soft gray against darker shades. The only light was the dull yellow of a candle spilling from beneath the door of that room down the hall. As I drew closer, I reached back over my shoulder and ripped out the stake with a slight wince. My bones completely unhinged, and without any support, my arm hung down at a slope from my collar. Blood poured in a heated river down my back and chest.

No matter. He would fix that in a moment.

Of course the door squealed on its hinges, loud as a wailing cat. Before I could even glance at the room, its occupant's eyes were on me. He was young, early twenties I assumed. A lean, muscled kid, his hair was an overgrown but neat brunet. His wide eyes reflected gold in the candlelight. As soon as he jumped up from his seat, I almost went for his throat, but he stopped me dead.

"Dear Lord, you need a doctor," he gasped.

Oh dear, he was stupid. I always felt bad about draining the stupid ones.

He rushed forward to examine my shoulder despite the color draining from his face, and I kicked the door closed. It was hard to complain when dinner served itself.

He was a good half-head shorter, and he didn't notice anything amiss until my good hand was on the back of his neck, dragging him in. A small noise of confusion escaped him just before I bit through the smooth skin at the base of his neck. Then I could feel his heartbeat against my fangs, his blood pooling out. He was sweeter than the usual, maybe because he was so young or maybe because I needed it so much. Either way, I appreciated it like a fine dessert wine. The pain from my shoulder faded with each racing pulse of his heart.

Another small sound escaped him, this time a sweet mix of surprise and pleasure. Being bitten wasn't without its perks, and I was quite content to give back to him in some way. The humans I'd asked had told me it started with an all-consuming internal warmth. Next came a sensation spreading out to every inch of the body that they could only tell me was a pleasure better than sex. Eventually, their limbs would begin to cool, starting from the tips of their fingers and toes. That was when I knew to stop. If they cooled off completely, I was left with a corpse reminiscent of a china doll.

My hand slipped down from his neck to trace his chest through his shirt. He was well muscled for a church boy. It was too bad they had that whole chastity nonsense.

Just as my bones realigned, my vision was overcome by flashes of black and white. I opened my eye to find myself on the floor. As I came to understand what had happened, my hand listed up to the side of my head.

He'd hit me. Hm. No one had ever stopped me in the middle. Their strength was usually long gone. Despite the dull ache of my head, I felt a smile itching on my lips. I liked this one.

I glanced up to find him glaring at me as though I'd done something unspeakable. One hand was glued to the bite mark, the other still raised in a fist. "You get out of here, demon," he spat.

It was a true struggle not to smile. He was so naïve. "I'm not a demon," I said as I stood. "One of the priests attacked me without reason, so I was simply making things even."

He'd taken to threatening me with a cross, which was as amusing as always. He held it out like a sword pointed at my chest. His eyes were firm in their belief that it could protect him. "I'm not the one who attacked you, so I don't see how that's fair," he said. "Now you get out of here before I go get my brother."

I wasn't sure why that should to scare me. "What's your name?" I asked.

"Like I'd tell a demon." He continued inching closer to me with the cross as though it would start working from two feet instead of three.

"You're a thick one, aren't you? I'm not a demon. My name is Harlock."

If nothing else, he was brave. "I'm not interested in you," he said. "Leave."

"By the way, you're drooling a bit." I tapped a finger to the corner of my mouth to mirror where his cheek was glistening. He immediately copied the move, scrubbing away the hint that he'd been enjoying himself. His face was a brilliant scarlet, and I could imagine his thoughts were filled with pleas of forgiveness from the Father.

My eye wandered to the parchment he'd been working on when I'd come in. He'd left his quill on it, and a large blot of ink had formed at its tip. But at the top of the page was a name. A name meant hypnosis was a possibility.

"Yama," I smiled. An odd name for a place like this. "You can relax, Yama. I didn't come to bring you harm, and that cross isn't doing anything for you. I'm too old for that." Religious pieces only worked for the first few hundred years. After that I suppose God stopped caring about our blasphemy. We outgrew him, though holy water was still not something I wanted a bath in.

It was clear Yama wasn't sure what to think, wobbling back and forth between his feet. The cross stayed between us, while his eyes glanced around the enclosed room for answers. After a good minute, he opened his mouth. "E-Ezra?" he called.

I blinked. Ezra was the head priest and…his brother? Wonderful. The threat was more viable now that "brother" had a face. I was not healed enough and in no way prepared to face the head priest in such an enclosed space. Bastard child was trying to get me killed.

"What's the matter, Yama?" came the head priest's reply. He sounded the same as he had with me, distant and uninterested as though he had something more important to do. I'd expected more care to touch his voice when it came to his brother.

Yama's eyes flicked to me, and I stared in return. If he was going to rat out my position, then so be it. I didn't approve, but I couldn't blame him for it, nor could I harm him.

It appeared he wanted to say something, his mouth open as though he was still trying to work it out. "What?" his brother snapped from just outside the door. As soon as it swung inward, I lunged for Yama. His heartbeat rose to a trill, like a caught bird struggling against the grasp of a hand. Had he known my true intentions, he could have called my bluff by pulling away. But my fingers dug into his throat just enough to restrict his breathing. I could have torn out his windpipe with a flick of the wrist.

The head priest paused in the doorway as he found me at Yama's back. To the boy's credit, he didn't show his fear. He didn't plead or whimper, and his hands clenched in fists at his sides to subdue his trembling.

"It looks like you weren't dead after all," Ezra said in that dry tone. He looked nothing like Yama. His black hair was chopped short, and his eyes were deep blue. Their sharpness held none of the soft childishness of Yama's. He was taller too, more muscular. I wondered if "brother" was a nickname of some sort. Made sense for a priest.

"I'm a difficult one to kill," I said with a slow smirk. "Now, if you'll step out of the way, I'll be leaving."

The bandolier hanging across his chest still held the stakes he'd used against me, along with a few vials of holy water. He stared at Yama's neck, frowning. It took me a moment to realize it wasn't my hand he was so upset about. "Did you bite him?" he asked through a growl.

"Just a little nip. I can do much worse than a bite." I tightened my fingers long enough to drag a choke of pain from my hostage. I would have to apologize like a proper gentleman later. For that moment, I could only lean down and whisper a gentle assurance into his ear.

Ezra was either insane, or he knew I wasn't going to hurt Yama, because he didn't hesitate to rip a stake from its holder and charge me. How he was planning to stab me though his brother, well, I didn't want to find out. Instead, I shoved Yama one way while dashing the other. Ezra spun on a dime as I whipped around him, but his wild swing at me only cut through my already damaged sleeve.

Then I was out into the hallway, running. I hated running, but I had to finish healing. Then I would return, apologize to Yama for my rude behavior, and tear Ezra's throat out.

Brother was mad.

I assumed it was because I'd allowed the demon to bite me, but I didn't have time to ask before he'd thrown me in the cellar. The room held no light or warmth. Most of the space was crowded with wine barrels, but even if that had been any different, I wouldn't have been able to see it.

I could only guess it was for my own safety that he'd locked me in the crate. The tight space forced me to crush my legs to my chest. Crosses and nails of silver sealed it outside and inside. Brother doused me in holy water, which was fine until it touched the marks on the side of my neck. The burn had been enough to weaken my knees. Now I could only lay on my side and sleep, though the scuffling of rats woke me what felt like every few minutes. After a few hours, Brother would let me out. I'd already repented my sins. The demon wouldn't touch me again.

But, God, it was so cold. It ate at my skin and sank beneath it. I shivered every few seconds, my arms and legs breaking out in goosebumps in endless waves.

That demon had been warm when he touched me. His eye swam with heated gold. His breath was hot against my skin. Remembering it made me squirm. Devils were unfair, just like I'd heard. Their lies were kind, so sweet you could drown in them. But, God, that bite. I'd been so hot, like the fires of Hell were running through my veins. It should have been painful, but I'd never felt anything so good.

It didn't make sense. The punishment from a demon made me feel so loved. Though he was a lying, scheming cretin, he was so careful. Even when he was harming me, holding me between him and Ezra, the arm around my waist held me with gentleness as though I was a fragile child. Just before he'd pushed me away, his lips had brushed the back of my ear. "It's alright," he'd whispered.

God's form of punishment was the worst Hell I could imagine. I was alone. The darkness was a void that never ended. The cold made me wish for any source of heat. I prayed for forgiveness every time my thoughts wandered to Harlock, but then my mind would fall back to him.

I wanted him there. I wanted his bite again. "Harlock," I whispered into the darkness. I was going to Hell, but I needed that heat.

To get away from the thought, I fell asleep again. Once Ezra let me out of the crate, I knew I would have the sense to repent like a proper man. The prison made me lose myself too much to be considered one.

The first time Ezra had locked me in it I had screamed and cried for hours. I'd clawed at the walls until my fingers were all bleeding and riddled with splinters. I was sure the smears of blood were still there. I had found a fingernail the second time he'd locked me in it.

I'd learned to hide my fear and hysteria. He let me out faster that way. Quiet meant reflection to him. I was thinking on my sins, and I was learning better.

In reality, it wasn't going to work this time, because I couldn't get that demon out of my head. Or, not a demon. A vampire. It was ridiculous to consider, but if Brother's reaction was any indication, Harlock was a true vampire. If it hadn't been sacrilegious, I would have prayed to see him again.

I slept on and off for countless hours. It felt like an eternity, but no time appeared to have passed at all. There was only darkness and silence until the top of the crate flew open with a splintering crash. I didn't care about anything else at that moment. My joints popped and ached sweetly as I jumped up to hug Brother. He never approved of my shows of affection, but I needed it. I was a shaking mess. "I'm so sorry," I said into his shoulder. "It won't happen again."

Then, for the first time since before the accident, I felt him hug me in return. His arms circled my back, and I leaned completely against him. He was warm like a sunbeam through one of the church windows, and it made the darkness seem like nothing again.

"You're right," said a graveled, angered voice that did not belong to my brother. "It won't happen again." His arms tightened at my back. "If I'd known that bastard would do this to you, I wouldn't have left you with him." He leaned his face down into my hair, his breath brushing my scalp. "I'll take you with me."

My mind caught up late. Harlock, I finally understood. The demon had been the one to let me out. I jumped back and tore out of his grasp, but his hand caught my arm, and his eye caught mine.

"Yama," he said. "Look at me." Nothing else was visible. It was all darkness except the single golden circle of his iris. It was beautiful, even as it sank to a deep red. I felt like I was falling into it, just like when he'd bitten me. There was a promise of comfort if I simply let go. And at that point, I saw no reason not to.

My comfort vanished the instant Harlock jumped away from me. Brother appeared in his place, illuminated by the light streaming in from the open cellar door. His face was screwed up in rage, another stake in his hand. It was strange to see that anger directed at someone else. He'd always reserved it for me, while others saw only his mask of calm.

I was the one he hated, because of my mistakes, because of Nami. It shouldn't have made me happy to know that he hated someone besides me, but it was nice not to feel so alone.

"It's time you were put down for good," he spat at the vampire. Harlock stood a few feet away with a mask of calm as though his life wasn't being threatened. "You've lived long enough."

"Perhaps," Harlock said. "But I can't allow you to continue treating your brother the way you do. I don't believe you deserve the right to kill me. You're too low."

Ezra's rage mounted, but as he started forward to attack, I found myself jumping out of the crate. My attack was in no way graceful. I simply grabbed him around the middle and dragged him down with me. We landed on the dirt floor in a heap, my head on his chest, but he was quick to start pushing me off. "Don't hurt him!" I begged with as tight of a hold as I could manage. I owed Harlock for letting me out. He couldn't die.

"What is wrong with you?" Brother screeched. "Destroying everything you touch! You must have been born a demon."

His words felt like claws digging away at my chest. I loved my brother. He was all I had, and I'd apologized for my mistake until my voice was so raw I couldn't speak anymore. Nami was gone, but we still had each other. I wished he could have accepted that much.

Harlock yelled something. I wasn't paying attention to him. Then a mind-numbing pain smashed through my spine. I felt my eyes go wide, but I couldn't see. There was only the pain in my back. Something was there, jammed into my body like a rod stuck between cogs. My hands tightened into fists at Ezra's back. "Broth…brother," I whimpered.

He pushed me away like I was nothing. I took him in as I lay on my side, his eyes filled with loathing toward me. I felt myself crying, but not from the pain that was spreading like fire through my back.

Before Ezra could stand, Harlock's arms scooped me up. He ran up the stairs and out of the cellar to leave my brother behind. "I can't believe him," Harlock said distantly. "Dear God, I can't believe this."

The pain began fading, like God finally decided to show me mercy. I became a ragdoll in Harlock's arms by the time we made it out into the forest. The moon hung above the trees, full and beautiful. I almost imagined I could reach up and touch it. "Hang on just a bit longer, Yama," Harlock said. "I won't let you die."

Die? Was I dying? It was cold, just like the cellar, but I was tired enough to sleep through the cold. Sleeping would protect me from the horrors of the cellar. Sleep was always safe.

"Yama! Look at me!" Harlock commanded from somewhere far away.

When I opened my eyes, I found that golden ring again, beautiful and shining just like the moon. His lip was bleeding from a deep gash. "Yama." The ring faded red once more. "You just have to swallow a drop. I'll protect you, so there's no reason to worry."

Of course. I would do whatever he wanted, so I would never worry. My eyes felt heavier than they ever had before, but I kept them open for him as he took hold of my chin and kissed me.

This demon had ruined my life, taken me from my home and was now taking a kiss all without asking. But for some reason, I didn't mind. I swallowed like he'd told me to, and then I felt a second heart beating in my chest. Unlike mine, it was strong in its rhythm, alive. It was his heart, beating for me.

"Yama," I heard him breathe. "I always ask first, because I wasn't given a choice, but you have to understand that I couldn't let you die. You can hate me all you want later, but I couldn't let him kill you like that. You're no longer his. You're mine now, and I'll take care of you."

I fell away into sleep, or maybe death. It was hard to say.

"Why was Yama locked in a crate?" someone asks. "That's really weird."

Yeah, well my girlfriend has this thing for scared sad boys in crates. Go ask her.