**Warnings: MAJOR SPOILERS! DO NOT read this story unless you have watched all of the Vampire Knight Guilty anime (or don't mind spoilers), because I cover things that happened at the end. This story will have no relation whatsoever to the VK manga, nor any issues that take place after the end of Vampire Knight Guilty. Also, I tend to use small doses of profanity, violence, and sexual situations throughout my stories, and this one is no exception. You have been forewarned.

**Summary: Set after series end. The Friendly Fang – a punny name for a tavern that houses some fangs that are, eh, not so friendly... Zero x OC, maybe some Zero x Yuki later. Again, SPOILERS.

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* . B L O O D .. :.:: M O O N . *

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Prologue/Chapter One:

The Friendly Fang was largely known as an infamous hot spot for tourists in the small city just outside of Cross Academy. The building itself was built like an old-style tavern, inside and out, with a thatched roof; glassless windows; shutters; broad wooden doors; wooden tables; ale, mead, ancient red wine (all overpriced, of course); costumed wenches for servers; and a short, plump, red-faced man for an innkeeper.

Well, he is who the tourists always mistook for the innkeeper, anyway. The real owner of this fine tavern was someone a bit taller, more handsome, alluring, and a lot thinner – someone the tourists and regulars rarely ever saw in the common room. His name was Paris, and he was responsible for the clever pun in the tavern's name. A short, fat man would probably name his inn something like "The Boar & Stag" or "Porky's Pub" because all he ever thought about was food; but a vampire… Contrary to popular belief, The Friendly Fang truly was the first major landmark of the area, and had thrived on the main street for far longer than Cross Academy had existed.

Paris—named by his mother after the dazzling capital of France, the city of his birth—first moved to what was then only a tiny village in the 1800s. Upon his arrival, the few people who'd inhabited the thick forest already seemed to realize there was something special – something different about him. They greeted him with open arms and swiftly appointed him "mayor" of their small township. Paris instantly knew when he met them that they were ignorant of the existence of vampires. Still, he was as gentle a vampire as they come. He was ultimately grateful that he'd happened upon this village first instead of one of his vicious cousins.

One of the reasons he left his beloved France was because his father cast him out of the vampire aristocracy there. He was twenty in vampire years – barely old enough to attend the banquets – and for weeks he had refused to drink the blood of a human. His father refused to deal with him. "You'll never make it among our ranks with blood that thin," he'd spat on a frigid December night, "You are a disgrace to all Purebloods. Go – make friends with the humans, but mark my words, Paris: you will never find peace! You'll live forever just to regret becoming so docile, so worthless in your youth! Now be gone!"

So far he hadn't, though. He was one of the happiest vampires he knew (considering the few other vampires he knew were quite moody and usually had something to bitch about). Paris was considerably wealthy, having established the single most popular attraction in the state, though he chose to conceal this fact from the local vampire nobles. Not many of them even knew of his existence, and he preferred it to be as such.

He had watched the primitive people of his lovely village grow old, have children, and die. Their children's children then had children who grew old, bore more children, and died as well. He would sign off the deed to the inn every so often and fake his own death just long enough for his immortality to be inconspicuous. Eventually, once the township had grown into a city, Paris took on a Phantom of the Opera type role, only he was the Phantom of the Friendly Fang. Everyone knew the inn had a "living" owner, but the deed stated that he had died of typhoid fever in 1938. Add that mystery to the long list of reasons The Friendly Fang was so popular. Again, only Paris's closest friends knew the secret to that mystery.

Paris, having lived in the village/city nearly all of his lengthy adult life, had watched the rise of Cross Academy. Word swiftly spread that the school was actually an experiment, executed by none other than renowned vampire hunter Cross Kaien. Supposedly, vampires and humans would both attend the academy. Their classes would be at opposite times of the day. There would be two prefects to monitor the transitions between the "day class" and the "night class." On the whole, it was a profound gesture of peace between vampires and humans.

And Paris wanted nothing to do with it. Something as socially concentrated as a school could never, in any way, succeed in bridging the gap between monsters and mundanes. He knew this for a fact once he found out what kind of strings Cross had to pull in order make his experiment possible. The only reason the noble vampires agreed to let the young ones attend his idealistic Academy was because Kuran Kaname, notable Pureblood Prince, had agreed as well. He was the reason Paris refused to get involved. He also had dreams of a peaceful relationship between vampires and humans, but that particular Pureblood was nothing but trouble.

His assumption proved correct sometime later. An all out war broke loose within Cross Academy, putting most of its human students in imminent danger, and drastically dividing the noble vampires. In the end, the Academy lost all of its night class members, and Cross's dream of a placid coexistence crumbled before his very eyes. He left the Academy open, but with its members almost halved Paris hardly saw the point. He expected the school to close completely in a couple of years, regardless.

Occasionally, a tall teen with a slender build and a slouched walk would show up at the Friendly Fang. His eyes were a rare shade of lilac that matched his even rarer silver mop of hair. The boy would always arrive very late in the evening – almost closing time – and order somewhere around sixteen bloody marys (and only pay for about half of them). Then he would leave for a month or so. He always came back a month later, and always ordered gratuitous rounds of bloody mary after bloody mary after bloody, bloody mary.

The reason was most obvious; what stood out most to Paris were the boy's Cross Academy day class uniform, and the fact that he was a vampire.

Tonight, the boy with pale purple eyes and moonlit hair quickly shoved his way through the weekend crowd to the oaken bar counter, probably drawn like a moth to a flame for umpteen bloody marys. Poor chap, drowning himself in alcohol like that. The perpetual frown that usually graced his handsome features was donned with extra ferocity tonight; something had obviously upset him.

Paris watched the student curiously from his private balcony above the common room. Down below, eager tourists' eyes hungrily scanned the landing for a glimpse of the "Friendly Fang's Phantom." Chuckling to himself, Paris decided to stay hidden for the moment. He would grant them their wish shortly; for now, he didn't want to take away the attention his audience was giving to the other performer on stage. Not only that, he didn't want the boy to notice him yet either.

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Zero was well aware of the many eyes that zoned in on him whilst he was making his way through the sea of people. A couple of times he'd even worn a hood, but that drew more sideways glances than even his off colorings, so he worked with his looks the best he could. His footsteps started to drag as he neared the bar top. He could feel his skin prickling, and if he wasn't careful his eyes would start to bleed…for the smells of the Friendly Fang never ceased to intoxicate him: sweat, alcohol, apple pie, chicken, ham, turkey, stuffing, oil, smoke, wood, and fresh linens. Heavenly, to be sure, but all of those paled in comparison to the overwhelming aroma of blood that clung to everything and everyone there.

He shook his head quickly to get rid of the thought of blood. It wasn't usually this strong, damnit! Of course, if he had to pick a night to literally rip someone apart, he would definitely pick tonight. After that fiasco, who wouldn't?

His old friends Yuki and Kaname Kuran decided to pay a visit to Cross Academy today, two years after they decimated it with their little family reunion. When they arrived, Zero told the two lovebirds to piss off before he killed their asses – wouldn't even look them in the eyes. They took him seriously, got pissed off, and left almost as soon as they'd come, leaving his sap of a headmaster in a pool of tears and anguish. (The headmaster's dream had always been a peaceful union of vampires and humans. Zero knew better than to fill his head with such trash; he'd made a promise, after all, to hunt down and kill every last pureblooded vampire, including Yuki. What gall for them to show up expecting a warm welcome…)

But it wasn't the fact that they showed up. It wasn't even the fact that they were together at all. What riled Zero to his bones were the memories that seeing Yuki evoked, especially the last one – of the bite she'd given him as her vampire self. She'd cut her hair short again now. It hadn't helped.

So here he was trying to control a bloodlust he hadn't felt since nearly falling to Level E, shoving his way through the local bar to order the one and only thing that satisfied his thirst.

A broad grin suddenly flipped his frown around. He thought of what the humans ordering those awful drinks would think if they knew that the Friendly Fang used real blood in their bloody marys. It was that special ingredient that left his hunger so insatiable. It seemed like no matter how many he ordered, there were always five more he needed. (Usually he became plastered long before his blood thirst was quenched; puking your guts out is one sure fire way Zero had found to kill a blood buzz.)

A woman in traditional Renaissance peasant clothing glanced his way and barked, "What'll ye be havin' tonight, young sire?"

"Ten bloody marys," Zero replied, a small fraction of his grin still lingering at the corner of his mouth. The thought of throwing up bloody alcohol was highly amusing.

"Ten? That's a right smart amount 'o booze, ye know. Gonna be payin' fer all that up frunt?"

Zero slammed his palms down literally into the wooden bar top. "Sure," he whispered, voice deadly. "Ten. Bloody. Marys." His tone said that he wanted them now, whether he paid up front or not. His eyes flickered down momentarily to observe the splinters he'd sent flying from the counter, and his wicked grin broadened even wider. "On second thought, make that twenty."

A quiet hush had fallen all around Zero. Even in the midst of a Saturday night crowd, it was impossible to miss him. And he couldn't care less at the moment.

An image of him and Yuki during their first and only year together at Cross Academy flashed before his eyes. She was holding a despicable black case of blood tablets and grinning like a Cheshire cat that had just won the lottery (she'd stolen the tablets from Zero right after she'd knocked him flat on the ground). Another image of Yuki as a human flashed in front of him, this time wearing a gorgeous, baby pink dress for the school's only ball. Another image, then another, and another flashed before him in a mental slideshow, over and over a thousand times, always of Yuki Cross, not Yuki Kuran the Pureblood.

That's when everything around Zero died away and he focused all of his energy on the drinks that the frightened bartender was lining up in front of him, and the memory of his best friend and true love. He didn't hear the gasps of amazement as he chugged the first five mugs effortlessly. He didn't see the two men placing bets against whether or not he could drink them all. He didn't feel the other vampire's presence in the room as it subtly made itself known. All he knew was the delicious numb working its way through his veins, the aftertaste of blood, and the re-breaking of his heart all over.

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Paris decided to save the boy tonight. After all, he didn't seem like the type to covet attention. In fact Paris had seen him avoid such glances before, fervently (as far as wearing a cloak to the inn for a few months, though that plan backfired horribly). With his hands folded humbly in front of him, Paris stepped forward from the safety of his shadows into the light of the candle-lit chandelier, posing himself right in the center of his balcony for the entire inn to see.

And all it took was one gasp. "Look, the Phantom!"

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The girl watched in rapt delight as the old coon in the attic finally revealed himself. Of course she'd known he was there the entire time, though he'd kept himself hidden far better than the young whelp up front. That poor vamp didn't even try to mask his scent. He might as well have waltzed in with guns and eyes blazing. (Actually, he pretty much did just that. Huh.)

What a waste of her time; this stupid club didn't even have any music. Well, nothing she called music, anyway. There was a band around there somewhere playing a flute, a lute, a drum, and a dulcimer, but they were all so off key to her sensitive ears it was painful. For someone like her to find good music was a rare treat. She preferred techno because of its computerized sound; it was never off key.

Unfortunately this place didn't seem likely to have a rave anytime soon, so she settled herself in for some good old-fashioned vampire hunting. A song sprung from her coral-colored lips:

"Eenie, meanie, miney, moe,

Catch a vampire by the toe;

If he hollers, kill him slow…"

She laughed melodically. If she couldn't have her music or her techno rave, she would have her treat one way or another. She continued to hum softly as she chose one misfit over the other.

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Zero's world spun before his eyes. The three bartender twins—no, wait… He blinked several times and his vision cleared somewhat. Ah, it was the bartender from before – the one dressed up as a tavern whore. She seemed to be gesturing angrily at Zero, and for the life of him he couldn't imagine why. Everyone was always mad at him for some reason or another. Maybe that was his problem, though. He tried to please everyone except himself, and in the process pleased no one. Stupid woman… Zero wished she'd stop pestering him. Couldn't she see he'd happily forgotten all about Yuki?

…Yuki…

Zero suddenly dropped his head down onto the bar top and covered it with his hands. At the thought of his former partner, Zero's stomach did several little flips, none of which settled well with the strong overdose of blood, tomato juice, and vodka. He felt bile rise into his throat and he fought back the urge to spill it right there in front of the bartender.

What Zero failed to notice was that the bartender was no longer paying him any mind. Her attention was now trained specifically on the other vampire in the room, the Phantom of The Friendly Fang.

"Good evening all," a soft, pleasant voice with just the hint of a French accent spoke out above the other voices of the mingling patrons. The common room was quickly falling into an amazed silence. "I welcome you to a night, or many nights, at my humble abode. I shall share with you food, drink, and good fortune – but most earnestly I wish you a well-rested sleep. I am an honest host, and a docile one at that, so please – eat and be merry! I shall share with you that happiness and rest with you when the clock has chimed its twelfth hour. So with that, I bid you fare well and good evening." The vampire then bowed his head and stepped back into the shadows.

And Zero would have missed every bit of this if it wasn't for an instinctual, gut feeling that something very bad was about to happen. His head snapped up immediately when he sensed an immense, unfamiliar source of power at the threshold of The Friendly Fang. Again he bit back the nausea and dizziness that such a quick movement caused and pooled what little energy he had left into focusing. His effort failed miserably; all he got out of that was a migraine. As far as his addled brain could tell, this new power was certainly not connected to the vampire who'd just given a speech. This was something utterly foreign.

With only minor hesitation due to his slowed reflexes, Zero reached into his jacket and put his hand tightly around Bloody Rose. He hoped for his own sake that his inability to register the nature of this new power was entirely due to the alcohol.

But that awful gut feeling kicked him again, hard. No… This wasn't a fluke of his own dulled senses; this was something truly dangerous, something he probably wouldn't have recognized even if he'd been completely sober.

Zero started to panic. Not only was this unknown power source gradually weaving its way to his exact spot, it appeared as though the humans took no notice of it at all.

The tavern, the people, the band, all the tantalizing smells and the atmosphere – everything disappeared. Zero was left alone in his mind on what looked like a giant checkers board. Wait, not checkers – chess. He was playing a game of chess, and there were only three pieces left on the board. The vampire on the balcony was a black pawn on his side, but virtually useless to him now that it was so far out of reach. The great power now five feet in front of him was a white queen, charging towards the certain victory of checkmate. And he was the hapless black king who was too depressed or too stupid to watch his own back. He was stupid for throwing his other pieces (friends like Yuki and possibly even Kaname) away so carelessly. Now, totally at his assailant's mercy, he was about the pay the price.

Suddenly he felt too sick for his concentration to hang on any longer. Zero leaned over the wooden barstool he'd been perched upon for the past thirty minutes and retched half his weight in murky, blood-colored acid. But even as he sat hunched over – stomach curled into knots, throat burning – all the while he was still aiming Bloody Rose right into the crowd at the head of the invisible white queen.

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Paris knew that shortly after his performance several curious tourists would make their way up to the second floor to inspect the balcony area. Some of them always felt the need to satisfy any doubts that were surfacing regarding his authenticity as a phantom. Usually he had time to stick around and tug a ponytail or tickle an unsuspecting patron before heading home.

It seemed there would be no such amusement tonight. A strange aura had cloaked his beloved tavern with a strong sense of fear and foreboding. With the skill and practiced ease of someone who'd had centuries of training, Paris made himself become one with his shadow and silently started to slink unsuspected down the stairs, beneath the feet of patrons, ever closer towards the source of his discomfort. What he would soon find there he loathed to think about.

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A/N: So there's the first chapter. I know there was quite a bit of OC work in there, but that's half the fun of writing anyway – getting to throw my own ideas into the series. Surely if you made it through to this author's note you can quickly tell me if you liked it or if you hated it…? Besides, my stories will not get updated because of sheer lack of motivation if no one reviews. Your opinions and comments are my lifeblood (pun intended)! But okay, I'll stop whoring for reviews now. ;) As always, thank you so much for reading!

Until next night…

~;~Shaku