Hi, everyone! :)

I know it's been a while; I'm very sorry. The last few months have been hectic - I've finished my degree, started working full-time and had to deal with some health problems alongside it. I really want to get back into writing again.

This fanfic has been in my head and in the planning stages for a long time. It's like nothing that I have personally seen before in Grey's Anatomy fanfiction - this is fantasy, horror, romance and drama all rolled into one. It's a side of Derek Shepherd that you won't have seen before.

I've drawn on inspiration from a few sources - 'Dracula', 'The Vampire Diaries' and the 'House of Night' series in particular, but the characters in this story are my own version of fantasy.

If you are looking for a cushy, soppy, lovey-dovey MerDer romance, please look somewhere else. I love MerDer, but this fic will involve a lot of angst and pain, and they will spend a large portion of the time trying to resist each other. And who knows - we may also receive a visit from everyone's favourite redhead neonatal surgeon and her steamy love interest later on.

Let me know what you think. While updates won't be constant, they will be long - I'm aiming for about 3,000 words per chapter, but if you find that too long and would prefer shorter, more frequent updates, I'll appreciate your feedback.

Thanks for taking the time to read!

Love,

Chloe xoxo

Bloodlust

In. And out. In. And out. Derek Shepherd found himself subconsciously breathing in time with the foreboding ticking of the clock that graced the wall of Richard Webber's office, as he toyed with the intricate detail of his watch in an attempt to focus his thoughts. Focus. Focus. Even the word itself seemed a blur in the anxiety that clouded his mind. The Chief of Surgery and Derek's friend and mentor from his medical school years watched him closely, a frown etched across his wise face.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Richard asked, his voice laced with genuine concern. Derek breathed in deeply once again and sat up straight in his seat. He hesitated. His brain was suddenly plagued with screams of terror and a crying child; his memories seemed to move in slow motion as he recalled the traumatic incident of just over nine months prior and, with that, he could practically taste the familiar metallic taste that had exploded in his mouth. He held his breath, convinced that the memories would trigger his uncontrollable thirst, yet merely felt a light pulsing underneath his eyes and across his gums. Quickly, he covered his mouth with his hand and glanced down, pretending to be wiping the sweat off of his upper lip as he forced his mind to think of something else instead. His family. His mother's smiling face. That always helped calm him down. As he slowly lifted his eyes to meet Richard's once again, he nodded.

"I'm ready…" he decided, only pausing for a few seconds before rising from his seat and motioning to the door into the main hospital hall. "Am I getting a guided tour?" Richard smiled and ushered his friend out of the room. He was incredibly proud of everything that Derek had achieved. He had nurtured him since he had met him as an intern in his late twenties, and had been overcome by his talent and surgical skill. He had overstepped the many obstacles in his way, and had done what nobody could ever have expected someone in his unfortunate position to do. He was now an attending, and not only that, he was Richard's new Chief of Neurosurgery. Despite Derek being one of the greats, however, Richard could not shake the worried feeling that appeared whenever he thought back to the panicked phone call that he had received from his apprentice nine months before.

"You know, George, they called Bailey 'the Nazi' for a reason," blonde bombshell Izzie teased her defenceless new colleague, who had been too terrified to even walk past the door of the Pit for fear of running into the ruthless yet pint-sized Chief Resident, whom he had accidently clashed with mere minutes into his first shift at Seattle Grace Hospital. Alex snorted.

"She'll eat you alive, Georgie-Porgie. You'll be on her service for the rest of the month," he sneered, wickedly, causing poor George's skin to pale an unattractive shade of grey. Flashing George a small, encouraging smile, Meredith put her arm around his shoulders, only causing a bright red tinge to appear on the apples of his cheeks.

"Leave him alone," she responded, protectively, though she extended her smile to Izzie, knowing full well that her teasing was only playful, "You'll be fine, George. Those two are just jealous that Bailey picked you while they're both stuck in Ortho with Dr. Torres."

"What about you, Mer? Whose service are you on?" Cristina asked, glancing up from her numerous pages of patient notes for a brief second. It wasn't that she was a dork or a swot, she merely aimed to be the very best in everything she did.

"Some guy named Shepherd who no one seems to know anything about," came Meredith's reply.

"Oh, I heard Burke and Chief Webber talking about him earlier, he's the new Head of Neuro. Starts today."

"Surprised you heard anything Burke said with your head so far up his arse," Alex retorted, smirking to himself. Cristina shot him a glare in response.

"Screw you, Evil Spawn. Go set a fracture and leave the real surgeries to the big boys." Just as Alex was about to give a smartass reply, Meredith cut them short by stopping dead in her tracks, her eyes resting on the breathtakingly handsome man in front of them, just leaving the Chief's office. He looked like the sort of guy who belonged on a poster on her bedroom wall rather than in an unflattering white doctors' coat, though he even managed to pull that off.

"Who the hell is that?" Izzie hissed excitedly from behind her, her grin practically audible. Richard noticed the group of fresh-faced interns out of the corner of his eye and turned to them, his gaze instantly finding Meredith's. She gulped, a sweet pink shade appearing in her cheeks. She hated the fact that the Chief knew who she was. She was meant to be one of a dozen new faces that all blurred into one another. But he'd known her mother, the formidable Ellis Grey, which Richard hadn't let her forget since her initial interview. She groaned internally at the smile that lit up his face when he saw her.

"Meredith!" Awkwardly, Meredith broke away from the group of interns and moved towards the Chief and his attractive companion. "This is Dr. Shepherd, our new Head of Neuro. I believe you're on his service today. Derek, this is Meredith Grey, she's one of our new interns, one who probably knows the halls of this hospital better than I do. I'll leave you in her capable hands." Richard placed a hand on his old friend's shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile. "If you need anything, anything at all, come and find me." Derek nodded, forcing a twisted smile onto his face before turning to Meredith and trying his best to pretend to be the world-class surgeon he once was.

"Hi, I'm Derek."

"So I heard." Meredith subtly eyed him over from head to toe, her heart lurching as she met his own electric blue eyes. "Wanna head straight up to Neuro?"

"Sure." She turned on her heel and strode off in the direction of the elevator, Derek quickly falling into step behind her. "So, what makes you know this place so well? Interns only started today, right?" Meredith shrugged, refusing to drop the walls that she'd built up around herself to protect her from every man she'd ever met; every person, for that matter.

"My mother used to work here. This place is where I grew up," she replied, nonchalantly, hitting the button for the third floor and taking a deep breath as the doors of the elevator closed in front of them. She hated elevators. They were far too hot and stuffy and awkward. The two rode in silence through the first stop, before Derek opened his mouth and sliced through the tension.

"Do you know what you want to specialise in?"

"Not really. I like Neuro, though. It's interesting."

"It is interesting," he agreed, somewhat thoughtfully, "it's not like any other specialty. It's in a league of its' own." Meredith raised an eyebrow.

"Are you saying that you're in a different league to other surgeons? That's bold." Derek chuckled.

"Does it still count as bold if it's the truth?" he shot back. Meredith said nothing, pressing her glossed lips together as a smile tugged at the corners. They were engulfed in an intense silence once again, the whir of the elevator shifting between floors suddenly seeming very loud. Meredith dared to sneak a sideways look at her companion from beneath her eyelashes. God, he was unnaturally beautiful. His chiselled jaw was covered with a light stubble, and his luscious hair was styled so perfectly that Meredith couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to run her hands through-…

'Stop it,' she chastised herself, quickly tearing her eyes away and staring straight ahead instead, 'He is your boss. Just another obnoxious attending. You already know plenty of those.' The elevator pinged and the doors sprung open to reveal the crisp white walls of the Neurology unit, which the pair stepped into, entering a world full of some seriously sick people – and, consequently, some seriously cool surgeries. Meredith smiled, her eyes scanning the familiar bays and the edgy atmosphere in the room. Though her mother had been a general surgeon, Meredith had always been gripped by a fascination for the inner workings of the brain, and had frequently begged her mother to allow her to roam the Neurological halls. Ellis had often agreed purely for the sake of entertaining her young daughter, providing she kept out of the other doctors' way.

"Well, Dr. Shepherd, welcome to Neuro at Seattle Grace."

"I have spent the last twelve and a half hours doing sutures," George commented, staring vaguely at his tuna sandwich, which was in the centre of the tray in front of him, "That is 750 minutes. That is… That is 45,000 seconds doing sutures that I will never get back again."

"At least you have math as a life skill," Izzie shrugged, prodding the single cherry tomato in her salad with her fork, causing the juice to ooze out of the puncture, "There is no skill involved in Ortho."

"Torres is a machine. You should see her reducing joints: grab, snap, onto the next one. It's almost scary," Alex agreed from beside George. They, along with Cristina, had managed to stake a claim on one of the tables in the cafeteria, leaving one seat empty. Their first shift had already been draining and tedious for most of the group, and they had yet to even cross the halfway line. Their lunch hour was a much-needed escapism. Meredith dropped her tray down beside Izzie's and slipped into the seat. Cristina slowly raised her head and glanced at the empty space behind her friend.

"Where is it?" she asked.

"Where's what?" Meredith frowned, following Cristina's line of gaze but not understanding her question. Cristina blinked and put on a puzzled expression.

"Your shadow…" She snorted, taking a large bite out of her apple and continuing to mumble with her mouth full, "Shepherd is like a puppy following you around."

"He is not. And even if he is, he's new. He doesn't know where anything is," Meredith replied, indignantly, not meeting her fellow intern's eyes as she cut into her jacket potato.

"You're new, you don't know where anything is…" Cristina hesitated briefly, contemplating her next words. "Or, at least, you wouldn't if your mother wasn't Ellis Grey." Izzie's fork clattered to the table, and George's mouth dropped open in an almost comedic manner. The group was silent, and Meredith's eyes grew round.

"Did you Google me?"

"Your surname is Grey, Webber knows you and you're pretty sharp. Plus, there's a picture of your mother in my Human Anatomy textbook and you look scarily similar. It's hardly brain surgery." Cristina shrugged, though it was clear that she was smug about the bombshell that she had dropped on the table. Meredith drew in a breath and met the gazes of each of her new colleagues in turn – even Alex was suddenly interested.

"I'm the daughter of a surgeon-"

"THE surgeon," Izzie interrupted. Meredith merely rolled her eyes.

"I'm the daughter of a surgeon, not a museum exhibit. So George, stop staring at me like that, okay? I'm no different to everyone else here, I'm not getting special treatment, I'm not a genetically gifted surgeon and I do not have attendings following me around like puppies," she snapped, before hastily tucking into her lunch of spaghetti bolognese. The others hesitated, before gradually following suit. "So, George… How's the Pit? You do many sutures?"

Meredith paced through the hospital corridors, dodging past patients, nurses and doctors as she headed in the direction of the Neurology unit. Bursting through the double doors, the first person that she laid eyes on was Derek Shepherd, and she was surprised at how calm he looked. She stopped in front of him, and he flashed her a charming smile.

"You paged me?" It was more of a remark than a question.

"I paged you," Derek agreed, straightening up and picking up his patient's files from the nurses' station, "I'm doing a neuroendoscopy on Mr Hansen, you want in?" His eyes were sparkling in excitement, and his vibe instantly rubbed off on Meredith.

"Seriously?!"

"Seriously. You can observe the whole thing from the front line. I have an OR booked at six o'clock. Prep the patient and I'll see you there." He nodded to her, before brushing past her and moving towards the corridor. He had not, however, noticed that their exchange had drawn the attention of an eagle-eyed observer until he fell into step beside him.

"Dr. Shepherd, I'd like a word."

"Sorry, Dr. Webber, I have a lot of prep work to do before-"

"It wasn't a request, Derek." Derek froze, narrowing his eyes at his boss and his friend of many years before reluctantly following him into a side office, where Richard closed the door behind him.

"Richard, I need-"

"What you need is to slow down and listen to me," Richard boomed, before quickly looking around and lowering his voice, "It is your first day back as a practicing surgeon in nine months. Do you really think that leaping head-first into brain surgery is a smart move?!"

"It's a neuroendoscopy, Richard, it's one of the least complex brain surgeries that you can get," Derek hissed in response, his eyes flashing in annoyance.

"I'm not worried that you can't do the procedure. I'm worried because you're…"

"I'm what?!"

"You're… You!" Richard sighed in exasperation. Derek, meanwhile, shook his head at his friend, a visible hurt showing on his face.

"I am me," he agreed, looking directly into Richard's eyes and speaking earnestly and from the heart, "I am the best neurosurgeon in the state, and one of the best in the country. You've been my friend since I was twenty-six-years-old, so you should know by now that I am me because I have exceptional self-control."

"Derek-"

"If I didn't think that I was ready for this, do you really think that I would take that risk again? Risk losing control, risk exposing myself and losing my licence to practice… Risk killing someone?" Richard was silent as he bowed his head, an uncharacteristic move. He was torn between the best interests for the hospital, the patient and for his good friend, who had had the year from hell and had overcome so much.

"I'm sorry," he eventually uttered, meeting Derek's eye once again, "Just… Be careful. If you need a break, you call me. I can cover for you. Don't push yourself." He amicably patted Derek on the shoulder and gave him a strained, toothless smile before turning and leaving the office.

In spite of their harmonious parting, Derek's breathing had sped up rapidly, and he could hear a dull pounding inside his ears, almost like throbbing. Moments in which he couldn't control his emotions were like the symptoms of a panic attack; he struggled to catch his breath, and every inch of his skin felt as though it were tingling, anger bubbling away inside him. He wasn't even angry at Richard, particularly; more with himself, for what had happened back in New York all those months ago, and the scar that it had left on his character and the way that he viewed himself. He'd been stupid. He'd let the problems in his private life overcome him at work, and because of that, he'd lost control for the first time since childhood – since he'd killed his best friend.

The screaming filled his ears again. The screaming, the crying, the pleading… And before he knew it, the metallic taste on the tip of his tongue was back. His entire mouth trembled, and he subconsciously turned away from the closed door as he ran his finger along the underneath of his suddenly swollen, aching eyes. He hated being so weak. Furiously, he let out an animalistic growl and slammed his fist against the wall. The motion caused the wall to quiver, and the metal shelf attached to it shook too, causing the stacks of files to fall over and topple to the floor. The release of his anger automatically seemed to calm him, and Derek sharply sucked in a relieved breath as the pulsing in his gums subsided, allowing him to clamp his mouth shut. The ringing in his ears and the screaming in his mind slowly faded away, accompanied by a silent tear that slipped down his cheek, released from eyes that were returning to their human state.

His body shuddered as he tried to suppress a sob. He wouldn't cry; he could count on his hand the number of times that he'd allowed himself to cry over the effects of his condition. Today was not one of those such occasions. He just needed to stay focused and remain in control. For some reason, the clinical, sterile environment of an operating room usually masked the intoxicating scent that appealed so much to him, and only rarely had his longing affected his work. Until that fateful day in New York, he'd never before laid eyes on an incoming trauma, stared at the puncture wounds in the man's neck – 'animal bites', according to all official reports – and felt an uncontrollable urge to lunge at the patient and taste the familiar zest of his blood in his mouth. Before he'd known what he was doing, he was sinking his teeth into the flesh of the poor patient's neck, creating fresh 'animal bites' and almost draining the man of multiple pints of blood. It was only down to Mark Sloan dragging him from the room (and promptly wiping the memories of everybody within a hundred metre radius of the hospital) that the patient had lived, and that Derek was still allowed to practice. Derek had reached his lowest point; he'd strictly vowed to himself that he would never allow being a vampire to put a patient in danger again. And here he was, about to slice into a new patient's skin and somehow not find himself lured by the scarlet liquid that would trickle from the wound.