If you haven't read my story Witchcraft, go read it. This will seem to come out of no-where if you haven't. I prefer to ease my readers into alternate possibilities, not punch them in the face with it.

I would first like it understood that no characters belonging to Anne Rice are actually in this. They're all dead, or referred to vaguely. I don't want to misinterpret or besmirch the characters inadvertently. Read the books. They are very good. Srsly.

Chapter 1

It began at her funeral.

The funeral home, Lonnigan and Sons, was decked out in true Mayfair fashion. It was her last party, after all. She's been the lost one, the one who came back and defeated the families demons, and now… death had finally taken her hand and gently guided her away. Yami had always thought of her as a grandmother, and legally she was; His mother had been adopted from another branch of the Mayfairs. He lingered in the background, watching those who game to pay their respects to a great, and good, woman. An elegant blonde man in a frock coat knelt on the pre-dieu , and whispered into the dead ear "This didn't have to happen to you, darling. Not ever." Then left, through the uneasy glares of various cousins. Everyone was filing out now, it was almost over. They would bury her in the cemetery now, in the old tomb. Yami didn't need to go there, see that. Yami put his hand on the coffin, and looked at her sadly. "Goodbye."

…

Yami was seventeen. He could be in school, but he didn't have to be. He was close enough to the family legacy as Her adopted grandson to want for nothing all his days. He chose to play games for the most part. His favourites were strategy games. As far as friends went, he didn't meet many people outside the Family, and the Family… well, they usually weren't very comfortable around him. Grandmother was the only on who… Yami swallowed. Her absence hurt.

She's trusted him, told him things, and helped him to understand himself. She told him what the others were seeing, why, even when he was a child, conversations stopped when he entered a room, no one wanted to play his games with him, no one actively tried to talk to him at family parties, or if they did, someone else pulled them away. Yami was powerful, that was common enough in this family. His power was… different, though. He didn't see spirits or the future or into people's minds. Yami's most mundane abilities involved incredible luck when it came to random chance, like drawing a powerful card or guessing lottery numbers, which he did for fun without actually buying a ticket. His potential, however, involved speaking to monsters he could only call demons in his sleep. Each time he closed his eyes, all color drained out of the world, and a purple-black void overtook him. He knew he was searching for something, but not what he was searching for. Sometimes, a voice called to him, but the monsters… Their advice was circular, never to the point, and often veiled in threats. He found that if he slept with a Duel Monsters card in hand, that monster would always appear in his dream.

It wasn't his powers, or lack thereof, that made the Mayfairs cautious of him. He'd had no idea, before that night on his fifteenth birthday. He could still remember the embracing heat and the scent of Jasmine blooms, and the soft smell of his Grandmother's perfume. She'd told him in her earthy voice, so like butterscotch even in her old age, that every human being had two halves to their souls, darkness and light, Yin and Yang. Who we are is affected by our inner turmoil, the constant swirling of our complete soul. He, Yami Mayfair, had only half a soul. It was worse, even, because the half he possessed was the darkness, devoid of light.

It made sense, in a way. Its why he was so stern, so cold, why he had to win at all he did, why he couldn't connect with anyone.

She understood him, because once, she'd let the darkness in her soul take over, and eclipse the light.

He walked the streets of the Garden District alone, enjoying the simple sound of his boots hitting the cracked sidewalk over and over again. The rich families in the area had wasted no time restoring everything after Katrina, and the Garden District itself had fared quite well. The papers said they were on higher ground, which saved them from the flooding. It certainly had nothing to do with the location of the First Street house, and of course the house's importance to the Family was unrelated in its remarkable lack of damage.

Yami stopped suddenly. There was someone else on the path. He looked warily at the pale, white haired stranger, who stared back with undisguised astonishment.

"You're back? Already?" The stranger asked, in a crisp British accent.

"Who are you?" Yami retorted, squaring his shoulders. There was something not right about this individual.

"Ryou Bakura. We knew each other, once. We were friends. We killed you." Bakura frowned, not explaining the plural in reference to himself.

The two of them stood on the sidewalk, just looking at each other. A breeze swayed the old trees that hung low over the street, prompting a chorus of insects. A cloud blew over the moon, leaving them with just the streetlamps. Ryou took a step forward, slowly, a hand held out, as if to bridge the distance between them and lead Yami to a new past, a new future.

"Get back, get away from him!" A woman's shout pierced the tense silence. Both Yami and the stranger turned, to see a woman leaning over a low fence, shouting at the Pale One.

It was one of Yami's Aunts, Matilda Mayfair, a petite woman with thin black hair that clung to her head and neck, and became unruly below her shoulders, whisking in every direction.

"I mean it, you lay one tooth on that boy and you'll wish you'd never crawled out of the hole you sleep in!" Oh, and she had a set of lungs like an elephant.

Yami looked back down the street, but his visitor was gone. He stared in silence, as his Aunt guided him off the street and into her home, a lavish building that, although nothing compared the First Street house, was dramatic in its own way. His aunt was a bit of an eccentric, you almost had to be in this family. She'd once shown him her secret library, behind a door made to look like a book case. She'd done it simply because she could, and it kept her away from the eyes of prying relatives. If there was one person in this family he liked, now that his Grandmother was gone, it was Matilda.

She could move things with her mind, and delighted in doing so. She also wasn't afraid of Yami. Or anything, for that matter.

"Just standing there, staring at it, it could have killed you! Or worse, but its gone now, I hope… What were you thinking?" She sat him down in her living room, forced a mug of hot chocolate into his hands, and lowered herself anxiously into a plush chair balanced on thin, shapely wooden legs. Matilda crossed her arms, and legs, and tapped her foot, waiting for the confused teen to gather his thoughts back together.

"I… I don't know. I felt like I knew him. What was he?" Yami knew quite well he wasn't a 'who".

"I'm not really sure. Not one of the usual Bloodsuckers, the blonde one keeps them out. At least, that's how I figure it. He doesn't feel the same. Its like they're all orange juice, and he's iced tea. Whatever he is, he was some interested in you.

"He said he killed me." Yami mused aloud, watching two marshmallows float around his hot cup without really seeing them.

He looked up at his Aunt, who's lips were pursed in a determined sort of way.

"Well, we'll just have to make sure he doesn't turn out right. Yours is a migrant soul, that's clear enough, and he could be a piece of your past life, its true, and this might have something to do with that… but… lets leave the past in the past, shall we? It doesn't need to destroy the present. You stay inside at night, you hear me? Either here, or at First Street, and always with a Mayfair in the house."

"I will not be treated like a fool, or a child. I can protect myself, and I can choose my own path." Yami said firmly. He'd always had a way of saying things, like every word from his lips was an announcement. People tented not to question him. True to form, his aunt backed down, though she bit the inside of her cheeks to pieces worrying.

…

Outside, Ryou Bakura sat in a tree, watching and listening. This was Yami. Fate had even given him his old title. Darkness. The question now was, should he find the Millennium puzzle and give it to him? Or let him continue to live in blissful ignorance? If he regained the puzzle, the wheels of fate would start turning again, driving them straight off a cliff, no doubt. There was also Yugi to consider. He was still trapped in the puzzle, which meant he was in the Shadow Realm. Right between Hell and Purgatory, or swimming in the river of the dead, or a million other things, depending on how one's culture looks at such things. The point was, he can't have been having a good time these past few years.

Bakura weighed the matter with Ryou's conscience, though really, now, they were the same person. At least, they were as long as the millennium Ring remained with them. If he left it anywhere, slowly the feeling of being torn apart at the seams came over him, and grew unbearably worse until the ring was returned to him. He'd only made that mistake once. Bakura twisted a point of the Ring thoughtfully, even as Yami swirled his cup of Hot Chocolate.

This was going to be a nightmare.

Ryou dropped from the tree, and darted away with preternatural speed.

Again, this story will be much better if you read the prequel. To all those who followed that story, and found me again- I love you. *srs face* (You feeling creeped out yet?)

So, Yami's alive again. Who's got the body now, bitch? What's Bakura been up to these past few years? Hint : It won't be as easy to get the Puzzle back as you would think. No just asking nicely.