A/N: Inspired by conversations with two people who happen to know who they are, so I don't think I need to mention names here. I think this one might possibly be continued, but I'm not entirely sure as to the when of that. I hope you enjoy it, and please, constructive criticism is accepted gladly in reviews. Enjoy!

When a born vampire goes through their process of merging in front of the family's Blood Mirror, it is a painful process, but when compared with eternity, it is at least relatively short. The longest recorded time for a merging stands at 26 hours, 37 minutes. Born vampires, it is understood without stating, are more than capable of dealing with the surge of power they will feel. They are, after all, superior to breathers. Changing a breather, the pathetic life form that they were, was a rare gift, offered to only those who had proven themselves in some way.

When a breather becomes a vampire, in stark comparison, the process of turning is long, bloody, and painful. From the minute the vampire forces inch long canines into the jugular vein, to the feel of the heart slowing, the sound somehow echoing in ears that were otherwise losing hearing. The process is designed to bring a breather pain unlike any they have ever felt, and freeze their body with fear. Thus, on awakening to their new life, they see the vampire as their saviour, the person who brought them new life. They are devoted to their Sire, bound by the new blood pumping through their body to do as their Sire wills them, be it good or bad. This is something that will always be.

Well, apart from that rare one time.

Robin Branagh's disappearance had been reported in all the local papers of Stokely and surrounding cities, but when evidence of a struggle appeared at his halls of residence, the disappearance became nation-wide news. Robin, it was reported, was a smart boy who was very focused on his studies in English Lit. He didn't have many friends, but those few who were close to him had reported nothing particularly out of the norm about his behaviour on the day he disappeared. The search took the headlines every night for six months, but when it no fresh evidence appeared, the media fury around the case began to die down. It wasn't that they were disinterested, but no one wanted to hear about an event in which nothing had changed. No change meant it wasn't news.

The family were grieved, but they understood. Nothing could be done. All evidence that had been gathered pointed to the almost certain fact that Robin was dead. They held a small, quiet service, and made a memorial in the back garden. His brothers honoured their brother by reading two of his favourite Edgar Allen Poe poems at the service, and his sister prepared a collage of his art work to be framed in the living room. His father was solemn and quiet, and his mother was heartbroken.

But, as breathers are so used to doing, they kept calm, and carried on.

With the media attention off the boy, it was finally safe.

Fitzgerald Worthington was what would once be described as a man of consequence, beholder of a large personal fortune. He was handsome, of a generally good nature, and could be considered to be a man of bountiful information. As a vampire, he had lasted over two centuries. He had not intended to make a stop where he did, but had found himself drawn to the dark breather boy, who had a … something surrounding him. It pulled him in, bewitched his senses, and he was turning the boy before he knew it.

Fitzgerald was not the type of vampire who could be considered a natural Sire. He had long avoided the process, being a 'half-fang' himself, and not wishing to bring the pain to anyone else, regardless of how much he did enjoy his vampiric life. But that boy... He knew what was to be expected of a newly turned, he had gone through it himself, after all. That boy apparently didn't. On the eve his process was completed, his eyes opened. He stared up at the ceiling, and Fitzgerald cleared his throat.

"I expect you find this all disorientating-" he had begun, but the boy spoke without even hearing him.

"Oh, I am going to kill you, Vlad!"

It had been a year since his 18th birthday and subsequence coronation, and Vlad had taken up residence in sizeable estate in the county of Kent. His whereabouts was not exactly a secret – he would often conduct Council Business from his estate, instead of travelling to the Council Chambers, but it could not be said that they would be easily found by anyone who was not already in the know if it. There wasn't really anyone living close enough to be called a 'neighbour' to him, so he did not have to worry about unexpected callers.

The knock on the door was unexpected. The punch he received on opening it was even more so.

"Bloody bastard! How could you wipe my memory?!"

Seeing Robin Branagh as a vampire was … like nothing he ever thought would happen.

"Robin?!"

"You going to invite me in then? I'm starving."