Axel: I realized that in my last chapter, I didn't do any warnings, or disclaimers, or introductions or anything like that. SORRY. I TOTALLY SPACED. HURHUR.

Squalo: VOOOI! What kind of fangirl are you, forgetting to do that shit?

Axel: STFU. I'LL DO IT NOW. Sorry, I don't own any of the characters, and yes… THIS IS YAOI. DON'T LIKEY? DON'T READY. 'NUFF SAID.

Squalo: Stop having my crap boss rape me in this story!

Axel: PFFT. It's what he does. Can't change that. NOW SHUT UP SO I CAN START THE STORY.

Squalo: Bitch.

Axel: Shark. Anyway, on with the show!

The silence was broken with the sudden eccentric flapping of small wings.

A little ball of yellow feathers descended from the midnight sky, slowing its fall as it neared the raven haired figure below. Before it could land, the figure lifted its right arm, offering his index finger as a perch. Tiny orange claws gripped onto the digit tightly, as it had done many times in the past, and continued to flap its wings while it chanted something that sounded like, "Hibari, Hibari!" The corners of the figure's mouth twitched in amusement.

"Kyouya~. Are you ready to leave?"

The amusement left the figure's face, replaced by a scowl that adorned his thin lips.

"I was preparing to leave without you," Hibari Kyouya said calmly, face dark. The scowl pulled up his lip slightly, revealing the ending daggers of two pointed fangs. "I prefer to work alone, Rokudo Mukuro."

A slightly taller man with a semi-spiked mass of blunet hair appeared from behind a cluster of thin trees, smiling despite the glares he was receiving. He looked somewhat normal, unless you counted his left eye, a crimson, demonic symbol of his power, quite literally. "Come now, Kyouya. I'm merely worried for our brethren." He approached the smaller man, grin still plastered on his lips, and despite the obvious warning in those midnight eyes, he lifted his fingers to Hibari's chin and tilted his own head in an almost curious manner. "I won't get in your way. You have my word."

For a few seconds, the two kept still, Mukuro staring gently while Hibari glared daggers. Hibird broke the silence and flew from its master's finger, giving Hibari his arm back enough to shift a tonfa that had been hidden in a loop under his black jacket against the blunet's chin. "Your word means nothing to me." After the raven haired beauty jerked the metal pole away, Mukuro sighed in a way that made him sound almost as if he were infatuated. After all, Hibari always was one to play hard to get. Always ignoring his advances and sweet nothings. But then again, Hibari Kyouya wasn't the average vampire. His rank among the elders as a commander of the militia gave him the authority he desired, but he wasn't always leading their forces into battle. The raven haired vampire always had a peon to do his "crowding" work, since he wasn't keen on being amongst others. And when it came down to investigations, he was the first to take charge. Hibari Kyouya didn't lose. He was the vampire race's ace.

Mukuro glanced up at Hibird as the tiny creature flew beneath the canopy of trees. Hibari was leading them to Castle Chateaux, where the oldest vampires of the world held their reign. This was also home to both younger vampires, where they were brought when turned from their human flesh. From there, they would bid farewell to five of elders – two were away with other affairs – and take a flight to Italy, where rumors had brought them to believe the mighty Vongola Manor had fallen to a ravenous pack of werewolves.

The two vampires were met at the front gate by four guards, who quickly identified them and allowed them to pass. They were offered a guide, but Hibari bluntly refused, and found the elder council room within the span of the large castle in only five minutes. A guard quickly announced their presence and the council granted their entry.

The elder council hall was the most spacious room in Castle Chateaux, and also the most important. It was close to midnight, so the curtains along the length of the walls were drawn back, allowing moonlight to illuminate the room at regular intervals. The ceiling was rounded, decorated with murals of deceased vampire elders, or epic battles, whether they be civil or race oriented. Candlelight was the only source of an orange glow, set beside each window and along the far wall where the seven thrones for the vampire elders were laid out evenly. Despite the century's technology, the elders insisted on making the entire castle based on ancient times, so nothing besides toiletries were current. As expected, two of the thrones were vacant, but the five elders present were sitting elegantly in their respected thrones.

Mukuro momentarily bowed his head in respect. Hibari merely closed his eyes.

The centermost throne belonged to the oldest – though he didn't look the part – vampire elder, Reborn. He was tall, wearing all black, besides the rim of his fedora and his undershirt, which were both orange. His hand was extended lazily to his left, where it loosely gripped the hand of the eldest female vampire, Luche. She was always smiling. To Reborn's direct right, two seats were empty, besides the middle of the two empty thrones, where Verde, the green haired elder, sat looking quite bothered. After Luche, however, the two thrones were occupied with Fon, Hibari's father, and Colonello, who seemed distressed.

"My Lords," Mukuro said coolly, with a hint of sarcasm etched in his voice. The elders ignored it.

"Where is Sawada Tsunayoshi?" Hibari asked, not afraid to be blunt. His father frowned slightly, shifting in his throne.

Reborn was the one to respond. "He's been missing since last night. We believe he's gone to Italy ahead of you. After all, he has many close ties in the Vongola clan."

"He's a fool," Mukuro mused, breath laced with a sigh.

"He's an elder," Reborn corrected, the brim of his fedora casting a shadow over his eyes. "Tsuna can take care of himself, even if his actions weren't fully justified as rational." Luche lightly squeezed his palm with her small fingers, and he glanced at her knowingly.

"Tsuna will not be too rash," she assured them, "He cares deeply for his friends and family, so he is doing what he believes he has to in order to protect them. Don't think badly of him."

"He's letting his heart lead him, kora!" Colonello chimed in, nodding his head in complete agreement.

Verde sighed irritably, earning him a slight pointed glare from the outgoing blonde elder. They leaned forward in their thrones slightly, but one look from Reborn caused them to part gazes and relax. "When you rescue the survivors, bring Tsuna back here. His matters aren't official, they're personal, and he needs to return to his duties." The eldest vampire then closed his eyes, finished with finalizing the two younger vampires' assignment.

Luche happily concluded for him. "Please be safe on your journey, young ones. May the stars illuminate your path."

Unlike the typical stereotype foretold, vampires could comfortably sleep at any hour, whether it is day or night. After a disturbing, painful rough night, Squalo was doing just that, but he wasn't alone. He was wrapped in the warm arms of a powerful man, the same man who'd ordered the kill on a majority of his clan. It was fucking ironic, or pitiful, but Squalo was too exhausted to care. He felt warm, for once. Stupid warm werewolf.

Xanxus' crimson eyes were open. He'd been awake for the past half an hour, after getting up to relieve himself and close the chamber's curtains before dawn approached. Squalo was free of his platinum binds, but could barely move to save his life. Xanxus was thinking of letting the vampire bathe with him soon.

It was a complete wonder why Squalo wasn't dead. The vampire was vulgar, angry, hateful, and with the blood Takeshi had given him, stronger. Xanxus wasn't usually the type to keep that kind of nuisance alive, but he was beginning to see why he might. Looking past the newly formed bruises on the pale male's cheeks, the shark-like vampire was flawless. Those longs strands of silver hair pooled over the male's back like water, and Xanxus already knew it was silky soft to the touch. For the fifth time that morning, he found himself brushing his lips over the top of the silvernette's head. Screw responsibility. He could spend half the day doing just that. As long as Squalo was sleeping, of course.

Squalo shuddered, and Xanxus held the beautiful creature closer to his warmth.

After taking all of the balled up anger – about his disobedient newphew, the stress of his idiot underlings, etc. – out on Squalo the previous night, the werewolf leader didn't bother to confine him. There was no possible way that the silvernette was going to be able to move freely after the abuse Xanxus had put him through. It was a good thing that both races could heal relatively quickly, because the werewolf was sure there were deep scratches along his back from where Squalo was avidly gouging at him.

Grunting slightly, Xanxus pushed the hair away from Squalo's neck, a smirk curling on the corner of his lips at the sight of his love bites and marks lining from the collar bone , leading upwards. Vampires could have more than just pale skin; one just has to know how to make it that way.

The werewolf was put off from his thoughts when Squalo coughed and buried his face into the crook of his arm. There was an urge, somewhere inside of him, to push the vampire off and press his thumb into a new wound he'd left somewhere on the other's body, but he didn't. The shark wasn't doing too well to begin with.

"Boss?"

Hell no.

"Boss, are you awake?"

A knock, followed by a pause, and then another knock.

"What do you want, scum?" Xanxus irritably snapped, though his voice was lower than it could have been. Squalo shifted in his arms.

The man behind the door cleared his throat. It was Levi.

"I have some information for you, boss. Also, your breakfast has been prepared. It's ready for you as soon as you get up."

As annoyed as he was, Xanxus was a bit hungry after wasting so much energy on Squalo. He snorted loudly, enough for Levi to hear, and reached for the empty wine bottle on the bedside table. With a quick flick of his wrist, he sent it flying into the door, and Xanxus smirked when he heard a tussle from the other side of the wood.

"Fuck off, scum. I'll come out when I'm ready."

Levi didn't need to be told twice. He hurried off, most likely towards the banquet hall, where Xanxus' breakfast was being served.

The noise disturbed the vampire in his arms enough for those silver eyes to peak open. Xanxus was too busy silently contemplating on who he would make clean up the shattered glass on the floor – and he was leaning towards his destructive nephew – that he didn't notice. That is, he didn't until Squalo let out a very loud, very defined, "VOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOI!"

The vampire's head was quickly slammed face first into the mattress, muffling his struggled cries of protest.

"You nearly busted my eardrum, fucking trash," Xanxus growled, tilting his head, eyes closed, while he tried to adjust to the ringing in his right ear. He was gritting his teeth in annoyance now.

"Myew phffukling wraped mie, aphhwole!"

Xanxus smirked. "What was that?" He pressed Squalo's head down harder, now amusing himself with drifting his free hand down the vampire's bare back, over the bruises and closed wounds he'd created. If it weren't for the heavy blanket covering Squalo's spine, the silvernette's exposed bottom would have most likely convinced Xanxus into another romp.

Silence. Actually, not too long afterwards, Squalo's body went limp. Xanxus instantly frowned, no longer amused. Another minute passed that Squalo didn't move, so he pushed the vampire over and examined the silvernette's motionless features.

Then,

"FUCKING ASSHOLE!"

Pale, bitten hands flew up at Xanxus' face, and slender fingers wrapped around the tanned man's neck. Xanxus growled automatically while Squalo launched at him, tossed, turned, and somehow ended up straddling the man's waist. The vampire strangled Xanxus for a good two minutes before the werewolf finally had enough and slapped the hands away from his neck. And despite the blood Squalo had consumed the night before, he was still too exhausted to fight back. Xanxus had him pinned to the bed again in less than ten seconds. But Xanxus was grabbing Squalo in all the wrong places, and all the silvernette could do now was groan in pain and try to throw the man off. In vain, of course.

"I'll let you wear clothes if you shut the fuck up," the crimson eyed man proposed, though his voice didn't make him sound like he was in the mood to bargain. He loosened his grip slightly when Squalo calmed his thrashing and put out all his frustration by gripping the sheet on the mattress. Xanxus waited a minute at least before he flipped the vampire over, pulled Squalo to his chest and swiftly pulled the two of them off the bed. Xanxus had no shame in being completely nude, but apparently Squalo did. The vampire slapped Xanxus as hard as he could, baring his fangs with embarrassment while the werewolf tried to ignore him. He skipped the wardrobe, much to Squalo's dismay, and instead headed right into the adjoining bathroom, where he dumped the paler male into an empty bathtub.

"What the hell, mutt—"

"You'll get your clothes after you've had a bath. You smell dried blood and semen."

Xanxus drowned out Squalo's embarrassed cries of alarm by twisting the handles for the faucets and watching the warm water flow out onto the vampire's head. Squalo was quick to shift his position to the other side of the tub, panting heavily, which only allowed Xanxus to slip in on the other side. The water splashed up, and Squalo pulled his legs to himself, glaring hatefully at the werewolf. Xanxus was merely amused that the clear water was starting to turn a light pink from the dried blood that had caked on their scabbing wounds.

As desperate as Squalo tried to get in staying away from him, Xanxus eventually grabbed the vampire by the wrist and pulled him closer. Squalo would have thought it was a sexual assault – since it wasn't unheard of – if it hadn't been for the fact that Xanxus soon dumped a huge amount of shampoo onto the top of his head. And by huge amount, it was practically half the bottle.

"What the fuck? That's too much, jackass!" Squalo complained, shoving a hand through his hair so the shampoo didn't fall over his face. Xanxus ignored the other's protests so he could lather a good amount of the thick liquid into his own hair.

"Shut up and scrub, trash. I'm not doing it for you."

Several arguments, rinses, shouting, glaring, and smirks later, Xanxus had wrapped a towel around his waist and was hauling a struggling Squalo out of the bathroom over his shoulder. The vampire was continuing to lose his energy, which allowed Xanxus to take full control of the situation as he pushed the silvernette onto the bed, slapped him with the wet towel he'd ripped off his own waist, and moved to the wardrobe to fish through for clothing. For Xanxus, it was his usual black ensemble, fitted with multi-colored feathers tied to a string around his collar and a white undershirt. And for Squalo, well, since he'd decided earlier that he was going to force the vampire to attend a dinner party later on in the evening, he threw a formal grey dress shirt and black pants at the tempered male, not caring when Squalo annoyingly pointed out that they were only supposed to be used for special occasions.

"Put it on. I'm not giving you anything else. And if I have to tell you to shut the fuck up one more time, I'll make last night seem like it was romantic."

Squalo abruptly quieted himself after that.

Xanxus made sure to loosen the tie around his throat until it sagged uselessly around his neck before turning to face the silver haired vampire, who was quickly buttoning the shirt over his bruised chest – after all, he had to hurry before the sex-crazed werewolf decided that he was too horny to leave for breakfast. Instead, Xanxus gripped tightly at his wrist and tossed him further onto the bed, where his shoulders were caught by the soft pillows that broke his fall.

"HELL NO!" Squalo shouted, throwing his arms up in defense. Xanxus was already on him, though, spreading the shark's legs apart so he could fit between them. When the raven haired leader got too close, Squalo retracted, trying to push his knees up.

With Squalo's arms raised, Xanxus found it particularly easy to snap the platinum handcuffs around his wrists. For a moment, Squalo merely stared at them blankly.

"What, did you think I was going to fuck you again? I'm hungry. My stomach comes first, trash."

Along with the handcuffs came the neck restraint, and when that was fitted, Xanxus left. Squalo, then alone, finally sunk into the pain the previous night had given him. He gritted his teeth and pressed the side of his face into one of the large pillows he was laid against, wishing that that perhaps this pain could equal the guilt that burdened his heart for losing more than eighty percent of his clan.

When Xanxus arrived at the banquet hall for breakfast, he found his nephew talking to Levi, looking nervous as hell. But despite his curiosity, he remembered the defiance Yamamoto had been brewing lately, and reminded himself that he didn't give a damn. He'd have Levi fill him in later. For now, a gorgeous German steak was calling his name, and he was eager to respond. He soon realized, after about three bites in, that his meal wasn't going to be a silent and peaceful one.

"Uncle, I must speak with you," Takeshi began, taking a seat on the left side of where Xanxus sat, trying to enjoy his meal. Even in a banquet hall that used to belong to a powerful vampire clan, he sat at the end of the table. This was his manor now.

Xanxus ignored him.

"Trust me, I wouldn't talk to you so calmly if it wasn't of the utmost importance." It wasn't like Takeshi to be so hateful. Xanxus was, for the most part, filled with pride to have someone hate him so much, even some one as love giving as his nephew. The werewolf still cursed his long deceased sister for giving birth to such a pansy, and leaving to become the legal guardian of the brat because the human meatbag she conceived Takeshi with couldn't live longer than eighty years.

"Say what you have to and dismiss yourself. Seeing your face so early in the morning is seriously diminishing my appetite." Xanxus never did glance over once at his nephew. He felt that if he did, his hands might lose interest in cutting up his steak and lean more towards strangling the tan flesh of the boy's neck. And that would be a waste of a good steak's warmth.

Yamamoto's lip slightly twitched into a scowl. Only a light one. "We're having guests for dinner tonight. Not ones that you will particularly like."

This peaked Xanxus' interest. He slowed his eating, enough to chew, swallow, and utter, "Who's coming?"

"Lord Byakuran and two of his advisors of the court."

Xanxus dropped his fork and steak knife.

"Fuck."