Ok, so, new fic! For those of you who read my old stuff and are like, dammit woman! What happened to those? Well, ok. I'm working on it. But life has been tough and I have massive writer's block, except for NCIS fic apparently. That show is one that I've been rather obsessed with as of late. BAH. I'm sorry v.v I'll finish em, eventually.

Now, ONWARD TO NEW FIC A/N!

Heyo! Let me start off by saying that the entirety of this story is written. It's not all that long to begin with, spanning maybe 5 chapters, and I just sort of wrote it all in one sitting. Then, I chopped it up, cleaned some of it up, and after a lot of inner turmoil, decided to put it up here. This means that I only have to clean and post.

The damned plot bunny wouldn't leave me be!

That being said, I'm new to this fandom, like, totally new; that is to say, I just finished watching the first few seasons recently, so there may be some discrepancies here and there. I'm using ignorance and artistic license as my excuse. The next thing is that this features supernatural!Tony, key-to-Tony's-survival!Gibbs (sort of), and a lot of discrepancies with vampire lore. That's my fancy way of saying that I basically created my own vampire-lore.

Other than that, watch out for SLASH (of the Gibbs/Tony variety). YOU ARE WARNED. The next thing is that it's probably not all that well written; I haven't had the time or motivation to REALLY clean it up. Don't get me wrong, it's readable. But it's definitely not the best writing out there. There will be bad writing, bad grammar, OOC, and a bunch of other things about it that make me cry.

BUT DESPITE ALL THAT, PLEASE R AND R! REVIEWS MAKE ME HAPPY AND MAKE ME WANT TO POST MORE.

And please, for the love of all things holy, do not flame me; it saps at my will to write. Concrit is allowed, and even asked for. But flat out flaming? Please don't. I'm not making you read this; so if you don't like it, go elsewhere. SO YEAH. R AND R (IN A GOOD WAY)!

One Last Note: this first chapter starts off slow, things kick off for real in the next chapter.


As Gibbs finds out later, it takes him 5 years, 3 months, and 13 days to realize it, which is odd for him because he looks through people and assembles things about them as easily and as instinctively as breathing. It usually doesn't take him more than about five minutes to figure a person out, much less five years.

His team and everyone else on the planet, in order of importance, think that he's got magical powers, or ESP.

Abby squeals that she's going to 'learn to do it one day, and then it'll be your turn for a heart-attack! Not that I want you to have a heart-attack! I meant it figuratively! Because heart-attacks are bad for someone your age! Not that I'm saying you're old or anything!'

Ducky says that it's, 'Simply uncanny! Why I remember this one fellow from my university years….'

McGee and Palmer stutter a helluva a lot, and Ziva tries to pretend that it doesn't freak her out even though it does.

Gibbs takes pride in those reactions, more than he ever lets on, because only Tony knows what he can do and even that's only because the other man is the same exact way.

So much for that, though; the ex-marine can't help but scoff because despite all his talents, it's still taken him years to figure things out, and even then, he still doesn't even have the full picture. If he did, have the whole picture that is, he wouldn't have to sitting here, trying to burn a hole through his SFA's head instead of getting work done.

Then again, he figures that he can cut himself some slack on this because shit, it isn't as though this is something that pops into mind with a single glance at someone, least of all Tony. The very same Tony who is capable of revealing absolutely nothing by talking about everything; the same Tony whom Gibbs is convinced could have been an actor, and a successful one at that, had he not been drawn to law enforcement.

The very same Tony who knows how his boss operates, and knows exactly how to work around it.

Still though, a part of Gibbs wishes he could have seen this coming because then…

…then, Tony wouldn't be sick. Because right now, that's what he's doing, being sick that is. And Gibbs doesn't mean the regular kind; he means possibly terminal.

Even thinking it in passing, in an obscure sense, it enough to give Gibbs shivers, but when McGee turns to him with a, 'you ok, boss?' he gives him the evil eye until the probie looks like he's about ready to cry, then turns away to stare a hole in Tony's head again.

It's slowly killing Gibbs; the knowledge that Tony, vibrant, excitable, bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, borderline adorable

God he hates even having that word in his vocabulary, much less having to use it; but it seems an apt description for Tony, who reminds him of an exuberant puppy half the time and a serious guard dog for the rest. He's the cheer of the team, their (but mostly Gibb's) very own loyal Saint Bernard. He discretely keeps everyone stable, and he's something Gibbs' been thankful for since the damned day he met the man in Baltimore.

Tim depends on Tony to whip him into shape, to keep him from being the quintessential geek. He may not know it, but he depends on Tony to be his friend, to turn him into a better agent, to keep him living in the real world.

Ziva depends on Tony to keep her human, to keep her sane with every case, because each and every one is always too close to home. He's her ticket into the team, her only chance of properly fitting in, and she knows it but doesn't acknowledge it because she hates it.

Abby depends on Tony to be the younger and older brother in turns, depending on what turn life takes. She depends on him for unconditional love, the very same love she freely offers to him.

Ducky, well, he doesn't depend on Tony, per se. But he does enjoy the younger man's antics (stupidity?), and dote on him much the same way that a grand-parent would. And Tony, well, Tony does his best to keep the older man in the loop, to bring the older man out of his morgue as much as he possibly can. Ducky knows and appreciates what he does and indulges Tony as much as he possibly can, even if he doesn't think the efforts are quite necessary.

As for Gibbs, well, he can't even begin to describe what Tony means to him, mostly because there are blurred lines everywhere and things are confusing, and it's a place that he'd rather stay far, far away from because he isn't sure he wants to know exactly what's going. All he knows is that he has feelings, and that touching them with the proverbial ten foot pole would unleash a can of worms that he isn't sure he can deal with. But in the end, Tony is his own and valued beyond all reckoning.

To think that something could take that away from them all, from him, is terrifying.

Hell, that's a bit of an understatement; it would be more accurate to say that Gibbs has never been more terrified in his life.

Considering that he's an ex-marine who's seen more than pretty much of all NCIS combined (death; destruction; desert storm), considering that he's seen Tony survive the damned plague, that's saying a lot.

But then again, maybe it's not.

When Tony had the Plague, lips blue from lack of oxygen and hope dwindling to nothing, there had been someone to go after. Gibbs'd had no doubts about his agent's survival rate because there had been someone to squeeze answers from. There had been someone to blame, someone with answers whom he could shoot, kill, destroy—until a solution had been provided and things could be fixed.

Admittedly, the end results had been less due to answers and more due to sheer stubbornness and Tony's willingness to follow his Boss' orders. But Gibbs had still felt better, had still felt as though he could prevent his agent from dying because things had lined up and dammit, he'd ordered his man not to die.

Now though, all that doesn't even matter because it's not on him. There's no one for Gibbs to threaten into submission, no obstacle to overcome. This in turn leaves him feeling cornered and endlessly scared, which pisses him the fuck off.

But more than anything else, what pisses him off the most, beyond words, and pushes his very limited capability to not kill things over the age of 14, is the fact that there could be something to fight. There could be something to overcome.

If only Tony would spit it out.

Fuck, even if his SFA refuses to specific, the least he could do is to atleast acknowledge that something is wrong, as far as Gibbs is concerned. But DiNozzo, the brain-dead little jackass, is absolutely refusing to give up anything.

Gibbs is so fed up that he sort of wants to kill the other man, himself.

Questions regarding his health result in DiNozzo peeling off with a, 'I'm fine!' and a grin wide enough to distract the most focused of people. Any further questions are thrown off with big drama over minor injuries including but not limited to paper cuts (Oh my god, boss! I'm bleeding! Holy crap holy crap holy crap, you think it needs stitches?), sore fingers (I'm forced to type too much, boss! Something needs to be done about this before they fall off!), and, on one memorable occasion, head trauma (you give out too many head-slaps, boss! One more and I could end up brain dead!).

All inquiries about his well-being are fobbed off with an expertise borne of years of experience. And for a forthright man like Gibbs, well, at the risk of sounding redundant, it's pissing him the hell off.

Shit, Gibbs is pretty sure that he wouldn't have even noticed if it weren't for two things.

One, he's spent the last couple of years doing what can only be described as 'tony stalking,' which actually amounts to him shamelessly using his marine training to covertly stare at his agent with varying degrees of…something.

Gibbs hasn't actually figured out what that 'something' is, yet.

Second, well, he may or may not have caught Tony vomiting blood in one of the more rarely used men's bathrooms a few hours ago. Combining that with the things that he's noticed about Tony for a long time now, such as the near constant drop in his energy level and appetite, the way his skin is starting to have less of its normal glow, and the fact that Tony gets this lost look in his eyes sometimes when he thinks that no one is looking. Well, it can only add up to the fact that Tony DiNozzo ill, and refusing to own up to it like a good little agent.

Gibbs is pretty sure that Tony doesn't know that he knows. He's just enough of a bastard to want to keep it that way so that he can cash in on that particular upper-hand when the time comes.

God knows he's going to need it when he tries his very damndest to wrest the information out of the definitely ailing and unforgivably obstinate senior field agent. Overall, someone's gonna pay, and Gibbs is going to make sure that Tony names some names in order to make that happen, no matter what. He will use any and all advantages, upper-hands, methods, whatever because no one and nothing is allowed to hurt Tony, including his stubborn self.

All that resolve and internal mumbo jumbo aside though, Tony is still ill, and has been for years. And Gibbs, well, he's been happily, annoyingly unaware.

And now that he is aware, it's hard as hell to find a way to fix it because Tony is not cooperating; in fact, he's flat out refusing without so much as a single 'no.'

Gibbs can't help but rub a hand over his eyes; trying to stave off the headache he can feel forming.

God, he needs coffee; atleast it's never been a major pain in his ass.

As he makes his caffeine run though, bee-lining for the elevator with the finesse of someone who does it multiple times a day, the last thing he hears is McGee's cry of outrage and Tony's happy laughter. Gibbs is pretty sure that Tony only pulled that prank to make 'his' probie forget about the angry glare that his boss had just dished out.

In turn, that only makes Gibbs more resolute. He will preserve this no matter what; he'll get Tony to give him answers.


Of course, when Gibbs finally manages to get his recalcitrant agent good and trapped in his basement, (having invited him for dinner, then forcing the other man to sand the boat, then promptly locking the door and standing in front of it with a deadly glare), things only get worse.

"You're dying," he says to start off, the glare deepening on his face, "Wanna tell the rest of the class about it?"

He's expecting a name to a disease, he's expecting to cart that name off to Ducky, whom he expects to come up with a neat little cure.

He expects things to be simple, or about as simple as it ever gets when one's name is Tony DiNozzo, anyway.

What he doesn't expect is the blank look in Tony's eyes or the reaction he has immediately after.

Laughter.

Tony starts laughing, probably at him, in a way that would have Gibbs concerned about the other man's lungs if it weren't for the fact that he's being laughed at.

As it is, he can't even get a word in edgewise; the brat is laughing loudly enough for it to echo in the otherwise quiet basement, and every time Gibbs thinks he's stopped and tries to say something, the laughing starts all over again.

All in all, Gibbs feels that the headslap that he delivers is very well deserved.

"Dammit DiNozzo! What the hell is wrong with you!"

This is serious, dammit, and Tony damn well needs to understand that. Even if he doesn't give a shit about himself, Gibbs gives a shit about him. In fact, he cares almost more than he's willing to admit, to the point where he's scared shitless right now. Dammit, he doesn't think he'll survive if Tony doesn't; fuck, he hopes he doesn't survive if Tony doesn't. He doesn't want to live through losing a lov—losing someone that important ever again.

So, the bottom line there? Gibbs needs to get answers because he doesn't want to die; worse still, his survival hinges on Tony's. So, he digs in, grits his teeth through the unending laughter, and asks the question again. This time, he uses his very best Gunny voice, the one that says, 'give me what I want, now, or I will make sure to make you suffer' and then gives the mental imagery of hailing fire, brimstone, and scrubbing the men's toilets with a toothbrush. It's never failed him before and he doesn't expect it to start now.

Unsurprisingly, it works. Unfortunately, it doesn't work the way Gibbs expects it to.

Tony does stop laughing; his spine unconsciously straightens and he's got his game face on without even realizing it.

What Tony doesn't do, is give Gibbs straight answers; instead, the younger man proceeds to adopt an uncomfortable look (which is odd for him because he's never uncomfortable) and stutter his way through three or four lies.

He starts with, "I'm fine, boss," goes on to say that he's, "simply got a cold," then comes back to, "seriously, it's all good!" Through it all, there's a shit eating grin on his face and a hint of mirth in his eyes, as though they're saying, 'I know something you don't know!'

Gibbs is not happy, to say the least, so he ups it a notch. He goes from 'Angry Gunny' to 'himself without Coffee,' and proceeds to give Tony a look so evil, that the other man actually flinches.

But he still doesn't talk, damn him.

And so, with no other choice, Gibbs goes into his final form of terror: 'Angry Marine Gunny Gibbs with no coffee, sleep, and twelve months celibate.' He doesn't even have to fake that last bit, which makes him even surlier. Damn Tony, anyway, that's his fault too. If he didn't pop into mind every damned time Gibbs decides to pick someone up, well, Gibbs is pretty sure that he'd be getting laid.

With that in mind, Gibbs doesn't feel even vaguely guilty about trying his damndest to make his second-in-command piss himself.

He feels even less guilty (which is easier said than done) when said second-in-command refuses to break. Admittedly, the other man looks terrified, as though his very life is flashing before his eyes, but he's still not talking.

Damn.

Well, Gibbs decides, two can play at this game.

He proceeds to give Tony a (wounded) glare and walks over to work on his boat. He isn't concerned about the younger man making a break for it for two reasons. One, Gibbs is better shape than Tony is; if the other man decides to run, then Gibbs can merely take him down and sit on him until answers spill out. Two, well, there's really only one good reason. The other one involves pride and all that jazz on his SFA's part and god knows that Tony isn't above dropping pride to get results.

Bah, option one is good enough on its own anyway.

Gibbs is fully planning on simply giving Tony the silent treatment; he hopes that silence will break him in a way talking hasn't. Unfortunately, he doesn't get to follow through, which really sucks because this plan would have worked. Gibbs can feel it.

As it is, Tony decides that the exact time Gibbs starts in on his silent treatment method is the most opportune moment to prove Gibbs' suspicions, and proceeds to throw up all over the floor.

When Gibbs looks down, the floor is covered with, ding ding ding, blood.

And at that point, Gibbs doesn't even care about answers anymore because he's too busy being concerned (and damned feelings anyway; they keep screwing him over) and trying to make sure that Tony isn't about to die.

He can't help but utter a quietly desperate reproof though.

"Dammit, Tony! Tell me what's wrong, damn you! I can't…I have to…"

After that, he's too busy trying to help the younger man through the retching to say much else.


It's another half hour before everything settles; Tony's finally done vomiting and he's just sort of tiredly sitting on the floor next to Gibbs, quietly allowing the older man to clean it up.

Gibbs is more grateful for that one concession than he can ever admit. But, as thankful as he is, it just isn't good enough. So, he presses in one more time, this time running his fingers through the other man's hair in an unconscious gesture of affection, as a way of grounding himself while his world was falling apart.

He doesn't even notice the way Tony leans into his touch when he asks one last time. He's desperate for answers now because this is the second time that he's seen Tony be so ill, and he isn't sure that he can handle seeing it again without being able to do something about it.

This time when he talks, his voice is full of uncharacteristically quiet pleading, as opposed to the commanding tones he'd used before.

"Tony, please. You've gotta let me in. Please. I can't…"

Gibbs can't even finish that sentence before he falls to silence; wounded eyes trained on his SFA, and desperation shining through in a way it hadn't in years.

Then he has to turn away because he's bared his soul and Tony's still clammed up. At that point, all he can do is go and get a damn cloth, clean Tony up, and hope that the other man can take care of himself.

Considering said man's track record, Gibbs doesn't allow hope to cloud his mind.


It's another half hour before anything else is said; Gibbs has resigned himself to being in the dark about this…

Well ok, he's actually nowhere near resigned; Gibbs fully plans on dragging Tony, unconscious and hog-tied, to Ducky later on.

But still, he's still sort of pissed that it's come to that, that Tony hasn't said anything.

He wishes that Tony would talk to him.

He doesn't realize that he'll be wishing that he could eat his words in just a few minutes.

Then Tony does open his mouth and it's too damned late. Dammit, he makes a mental note to teach Tony a lesson about rubbing salt into the wounds of already (hurt and) pissed off Marines even as he turns a glare on the other man.

He isn't quite positive, but he could swear that he just heard Tony utter, "Boss, I'm a vampire."

Gibbs can't help the twitch that escapes him, unable to decide between glaring spitfire and waiting for the punch line before punching Tony in the face, his hand ready to deliver a smack no matter which he chose.

Of all the damned things that Tony can say, the best he could come up with is this?

It's bad enough that Tony's lying to him, but such a flimsy one? Gibbs can't help but feel hurt; he feels as though Tony should trust him more than this by now. Extra feelings on Gibbs' part aside, they've been friends for years, have literally saved each other's lives on more than one occasion. Hell, the ex-marine has opened his home to Tony in a way that he hasn't for anyone else, and that's with nothing said on how he's opened up his heart. He can't really fathom why Tony would hold back something so important, especially from him.

Dammit.

He lets loose by punching Tony in the gut, and shit, he knows he's in a bad place because Tony's cry of pain isn't making him feel even remotely guilty. Hell, he wants to do it again.

"Ow! Boss, what the—just ow! What the hell!"

Well, isn't that the question of the day?

Gibbs has no words for his fury, so he doesn't say anything. All the panic, hurt and the sheer uncertainty have balled themselves into the pit of his stomach and into his fists and he knows that in a few seconds he's going to become incredibly violent.

A part of him wants to unleash that side of him on Tony.

Instead, he climbs up the stairs, wrenches the door to his basement open, and points out; his hands are shaking from the rage and the hurt and fuck –it-all, he wants Tony out.

Right. Fucking. Now.

Before he does something that he'll regret, even more than he regrets now.

He can't deal with this.

Tony, for his part, merely looks confused and upset, and Gibbs can't help but become even more furious because goddammit, Tony has no right to feel that way. Tony has no right to feel anything but shitty right now.

In fact, as far as Gibbs is concerned, Tony has no rights— period—because he is a fucker, and not in the good way.

He's a total bastard, and an asshole, and why the hell isn't he high-tailing it out?

Gibbs spends two seconds looking at his second, unable to help himself, and watches as a look of enlightenment registers in that pretty face.

Then a smile replaces the enlightenment and that's the last straw.

Gibbs needs Tony out.

It's at this point, that things get a little hazy; later on, Gibbs couldn't retell the events in any cohesive manner if he tried.

Just as the ex-marine is about to bodily haul Tony up the damned stairs and kick him out of the house, preferably literally, Tony let's his fangs out.

Gibbs has to stop mid-stride because holy shit, Tony's just let his fangs out. The ex-marine doesn't even question as to whether or not they're real because Tony does it as though it's a natural part of, so casually and with none of the awkward fumbling that would come with fake teeth. Besides, his gut's telling him that this is (unfortunately, unbelievably) real; and his gut is pretty much wrong.

"I'm being dead serious!" Tony yells out in the meantime, pointing at his mouth before grimacing, "Sorry, boss! I keep forgetting that you're just human!"

Oh.

Gibbs doesn't have the capacity to sit there and question Tony as to what the hell that's supposed to mean, the whole human bit; he doesn't even have the capability to be insulted because he's too busy staring at the other man's mouth and fuck damn those fangs. Suddenly, Gibbs is staring at Tony's mouth for a whole 'nother set of reasons than his normal ones and he isn't quite sure he's comfortable with that.

But it's like he can't help himself.

A quick look reveals that they're now sharp, pointy, and holy mother of god, or should he be saying something like 'unholy spawn of Satan,' now?

Not that it matters because Tony's a goddamned vampire and it's sort of like 'oh' except not really because the ex-marine has no clue what that is supposed to mean. He doesn't know if this changes anything, if anything is going to happen, if he ever going to see Tony again; and he's too damned fixated to panic about any of that right off the bat.

He has better things to panic about, like the fact that Tony is a fucking vampire.

"Oh…"


End of Story A/N: I hope you liked! :) And again, R and R please! Expect an update in two weeks!