Time was not of great interest to Ichigo. It required a bit of effort, he found, to keep track of the nights. Time was unreliable, like the inconstant moon, varying world to world and confounding his attempts. The third night since he had spoken with the boy the gates aligned and he returned to find the town more peaceful, the siren's call silent so that only the random predator came looking for any strays in the night. His senses sought and found the boy, still hurting but with that numbness of those who move on without letting the wound heal. And the pain was under layers of anxiety, not something he was accustomed to feeling from his Toshiro, usually so determined.

The window was closed. Every window he could see from his side of the wall, closed, shuttered by heavy wood and iron, but this window had never been closed until he spoke with his prey. Ridiculous. If he could breach the barrier, which he could not without a dangerous and potentially fatal drain of his power, then what would wood and iron do? Other than deny him the sight of the boy and make it very clear that the human did not wish to see him or speak to him. But that was not exactly true. So experienced was he at reading the child's emotions after so many nights, he detected the bright streak of curiosity, the underlying longing. Longing for the dragon, for him, or simply relief from the loneliness that had long been present?

Only a few were drawn to the city while he watched, and he dispatched them before they reached the barrier, before any hint of them could disturb his Toshiro. He did not speak as he watched, now so much closer. He did not send temptation or threats to force the human's surrender, did not send nightmares to wreck the bright mind, did not call with words though he could, only calling with his will.

Come, bright soul. Come run to me, then run from me, and I shall catch you.

Two more of this world's nights he was away, returning to the closed window. Four long nights elsewhere before the gates aligned again. Only one wasted night, and he decided to perch in the young tree that had fed on his energy to grow, close enough for some branches to sway in front of the window, some branches to stretch across the wall causing subtle ripples in the spirit barrier. There was a sharp hum of hostility from the barrier through the slow veins of the tree, not quite comfortable but easily ignored, and he laid his hand on the largest branch and willed it to be strong. He could see into the garden. But his Toshiro did not come into the garden, did not open the window.

He would not have taken back his words to change this unbearable situation. It was the truth; not that he was above lying, no, far from it. The memory of the shock and horror taking over those lovely eyes, the pained gasp, the quick retreat stumbling like a new colt, and then that short but delectable scream that made his heart race, that memory was well worth an exile. And Ichigo was certain it would be temporary. The window would open again. Those bright eyes would see him again.

The human would not understand, though some humans were drawn to torment their fellows almost as badly as a demon could torment. It was his nature. He was not unaware of the cruelty of it from a human perspective, not unaware that such mental torture was not entirely necessary. But it was too pleasing to earn true reactions, to understand and be understood, to be seen as he truly was without the cloying charm and seduction that was so much easier to use.

The boy could not resist it. His Toshiro was clever and curious, too much so, unable to turn away from the unknown for long no matter how dangerous. The child would come to him fully aware that it was death and pain, cruelty and brutal truth that he courted. He shivered in anticipation, willing it to happen soon and end his hunger, willing it to not happen soon, to continue to provide distraction from the monotony of eternity.

Tempted to speak, to scream his grief at being shut out, he stayed silent and counted. Was it twelve nights now? Twenty? Something like that, he thought, the idea of time too slippery for him to be sure despite his efforts. He felt the familiar combination of calm concentration and inquisitiveness, suppressed seconds of anger, anxiety, surprise, pleasure, that sweet yearning. He knew these soothing and irritating feelings; the child was reading, always reading, lost in a world of ideas and thoughts of other men, other humans. If he thought too much about it, he would become angry, the only response he had to counter unwelcome jealousy.

His Toshiro was so close, so very far away, the window closed.

ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooo

"Demon?"

When no response came, he wondered if he had miscalculated. There was a cycle, he had learned, to the nights when demons appeared. It had always been rumored, an old wives' tale that never proved accurate. It should be much better understood and studied, the advantages of knowing which nights were safe were many; it could heavily impact society if there was a reliable timetable. But the three different accounts of it did not agree, though they aligned enough with his own observation to give him some confidence that this was a night when demons walked the earth.

Maybe the demon had moved on. Likely it was lying when it implied it had known of him for years, just a taunt to frighten him further. It had certainly worked. The very thought that a demon pursued him for a moment was terrifying, let alone years without him ever suspecting. It had a grain of truth to it, not just in the tone of the demon's words, but in the timing. The creature could have been stalking from afar, only closing in when the dragon was no longer a threat.

Though he knew this was the most fortunate turn of events he could wish for, he couldn't help the regret the disappearance of the demon. Almost a month had passed. Other than his work and the most minimal of daily chores he could get away with, every moment had been spent reading everything he could find on demons. It was no scholars' library he had amassed, but he had found dozens of books with some mention of demons, three books and two scrolls focused on demonology, and countless accumulated stories that probably had little basis in fact.

And of course, there was religion. Religious texts had much to say on the subject of demons, no two chapters agreeing on anything resembling a fact. It was all bad poetry and scaring the wicked into submission with tales of devils and hell where the faithful always escape the punishment they deserved if they were obedient to mother church. Who could believe such things when it was a known fact that demons were a relatively recent addition to the world? Of course, the priests had an answer to this, that the demons were a scourge sent by the Gods to restore faith and punish evildoers. Rubbish.

What he had learned was simple. No one had any real idea backed by evidence, no idea what a demon was, where they came from, what they wanted if anything apart from killing, nothing. Demons had not always plagued this world, the first encounters recorded only around 150 years ago with a surge in numbers 124 years ago. Since then, nothing but struggle and the two disastrous wars against demonkind that had wrecked all civilization. Finally, the retreat to daytime cities where humans huddled like mice in burrows. Yet they knew appallingly little of the predator higher than them on the food chain. Perhaps someone did, the great scholars, the mages, the kings. But here where ordinary people lived in paralyzing fear of the night, they knew nothing.

And that was what prompted him to call out louder. He stared suspiciously at the walnut tree to his left, a lovely tree taller than his house, which had not existed a fortnight earlier.

"Demon, are you there?"

One breath, and he started to relax.

"I have missed you, my sweet."

His heart lurched at the sensual whisper in his ear. Fear, fine, he could handle fear. It was perfectly reasonable when you realize that you've been going about your life with a demon outside your window, a demon who dreams of ripping your body apart. That thought made him angry, and his eyes focused on the rustling of branches, the sudden movement. Graceful and silent as a cat, the demon landed lightly and moved a little away from the wall to where they could see each other clearly.

Anger and fear dropped away. He had forgotten how alluring the demon was. Many of the stories mentioned it, that demons could appear beautiful, could bewitch the senses even if they were hideous monsters underneath the glamour. Every demon he had seen and almost all sketches of them in the books were of creatures like distorted animals, claws and fangs, strange proportions, white masks with horns and glowing eyes. Only two of the books had sketches of demons that looked human, and what they had to say about this type of creature was not at all comforting.

"Demon, have you been there all night?"

"From sunset to sunrise, every night possible, you have not been alone."

Swallowing hard, he pushed fear down again. His eyes glanced at the bed nearby, rarely slept in lately in favor of the windowless office. Remove the walls, 40 feet, perhaps less from where his head would rest was the demon's perch. He wouldn't pretend bravery he did not have, but he would not allow panic again. The demon would say things that would give him even worse nightmares, and he had been warned not to listen.

"For how long, demon? How long have you been hunting me?"

"Hmm," the piercing eyes looked down and fine lips pursed, a very human expression of thought, "will the truth frighten you away again? It was not pleasant, sitting outside like a dog denied sight of his master for barking too loud. I should stay silent."

He snorted, hoping it sounded more derisive than amused. His hands went to the shutters, moving to pull them closed.

"Stay silent then. Good night to you, dog."

"You do not play fair, child."

The click of the latch solidified his resistance to temptation. And it was so very tempting. There, only a stone's throw away, was the ultimate source of knowledge, the truth of humanity's enemy. But it was not as simple as asking. Demons lie, just like humans. He had to sort truth from falsehood if he could get the demon to answer at all. And with every comment, every answer, he put himself at great risk.

One thing all the sensible texts agreed on, a demon drove you to madness with terror and with desire until you walked willingly into the night. He had already experienced a taste of it. With just a few words, he had been so scared and shocked that he had simply huddled on the floor of a closet waiting for death. How many more words until he ran into death's embrace just to escape the fear of death?

As if his thoughts were spoken aloud, he heard the demon's deep chuckle, sounding so close that his head whipped around to stare at the shutters, to make sure the demon had not come in. And he shivered.

ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooo

This human world was not of great interest to Ichigo. He often would stroll other worlds, and sometimes he would find a worthy distraction. And by distraction, he meant an entertaining hunt, a long pursuit, a soul worth the time. Other worlds had more humans, or less. Some were so thoroughly dominated by humans that his kind were nothing but myth. Hunting in those lands was almost comically easy. Other worlds were awash in superstition. He would play into their fears, come to them as a dark god and take willing sacrifices. This offered great amusement at first, but quickly grew bland with the lack of challenge.

The problem was that truly great souls were rare. This world, where humans thrived but had not yet conquered their ancestral fears, where magic was still a very true and effective weapon and defense, where there was still the possibility of monumental achievements and discoveries, this world could produce souls of such power and individuality that they dazzled him. Hard to find, harder to catch, these souls could change one of his kind, strong enough to become the dominant soul, to cause an evolution. His precious Toshiro was one such soul, one that might change the destiny of a devil. Not for one such as he, with an identity long established. But for this pack of creatures, certainly.

He watched, keenly aware that one great soul was within his reach and therefore well within this pack's ability to sense. They were strong enough to recognize the prize even if his Toshiro was currently quiet, not advertising his delectable soul by broadcasting a call for death. He stayed in the walnut tree, eyes trained on the horizon picking out five that were on the cusp of evolution, two quite close indeed. At that level, the five would speak, have some sense of self, but no stable identity and no guarantee that they would ever achieve it.

They followed a fledgling. He grinned. A familiar fledgling. It had been a long time to a human like his Toshiro, many years since he the first time he had seen the delicate boy-child and the promising new fledgling. The creature had not left his mind, but then, those years were only a quick blink, not nearly long enough to forget the sapphire eyes and the bold defiance, not nearly long enough to forget the temptation to kiss or to kill.

The window was shut. The night was quiet. And the pack of hunters was close enough to justify his departure from his Toshiro's side. Power carefully regulated, he circled wide to come closer from another angle, using just enough power and speed to be judged less than he was yet great enough to warrant their attention. He stopped not long after feeling them fan out, falling into their trap. Crouched and ready, looking like an oblivious target, with his head down to hide the lack of a mask, he waited.

Two could not hold their eagerness, the two strongest apart from the fledgling. Predictable, so close to a major power gain their hunger knew no restraint. He chuckled as a bright streak of blue and white knocked one of his would-be killers back into a tree and just managed to tackle the other before it entered striking range. The remaining three crept slowly forward, the one recovered from his unexpected collision with foliage sneaking up from behind.

"Down, you fuckin' fools! On your knees!"

Two complied, one backed away before sinking down in obvious confusion. The stronger one growled low and froze. Ichigo straightened with a hiss. Now they were all down, the scent of terror growing thick as they got a good look at him and tasted the release of a small portion of his power. Only the fledgling still stood, caught between the instinct to grovel and the need to maintain authority in front of his pack.

"Ruining my fun, Grimmjow."

The familiarity, the playful note gave permission, and Grimmjow grinned as he bent his head without kneeling. He was one lucky devil, and he was quite aware of it. Two Vasto Lorde he had encountered from a great distance when he was weaker, both times lucky to escape with his life. Only speed and slower companions had saved his ass. Hell, that's the main reason he allowed these sycophants to trail him. When you're running from something stronger, always helps to have a few slow friends to sacrifice.

Then this one. There had been no way to run when he met this one; he'd walked right into the jaws of death and wholly failed to be eaten. Instinct and legend told him it was impossible to survive such a direct confrontation with a Vasto Lorde, and this one was terrifyingly powerful. Yet he had escaped with not just his life but his pride intact. It didn't make sense, but mercy or no, he had never wanted to face such a formidable predator again.

Just how far would his luck hold? The Vasto Lorde let him keep his head up again, even gave him considerable status in front of the pack he'd never asked for but damn well demanded respect from as long as they tagged along in his shadow.

"Sorry, Lorde. You wanna chase a few of 'em? Maybe this dipshit?" He hoisted the still dazed creature up by the collar and shook it a bit. Weird looking, arrogant prick deserved to be prey.

"You can keep your toys, kid. And I'll keep mine."

The sudden threatening aura made him slightly weak in the knees. He dropped the pathetically shaking one and he fought the urge to join his followers groveling in the dirt. His mind raced, suddenly realizing where he was, why he had chanced upon the same lethal creature twice.

"Right, right, meant no harm. We were just hunting, nothing special, didn't even recognize the place. I mean, it's been a while, hard to remember shit, never would have come this way if I'd known."

He was babbling, and he hated himself for it. Almost every living thing he met was weaker than him, so much weaker that he was king of all he surveyed. Until he wasn't. Until he was reminded that there were some just as far above him as he was above the quivering fool at his feet, the few who made him feel like he did now, weak and pissed. Then, as suddenly as it came, the suffocating pressure was gone, the invisible knife sliding away from his throat.

"I believe you, Grimmjow. You aren't stupid enough to ignore my warning. So, traveling with a pack? Unusual. They don't slow you down?"

What the hell? Now the tone was almost friendly, like they were old buddies. At least pretending to have recovered his dignity, he grinned again. The grin wavered into a feeble, sickly smile as the regal and horrifying man began walked casually toward him, stopping only arm's length away as he struggled not to take a step back. The one previously at his feet had no such pride, or had stronger survival instincts, scrambling back in the dirt almost to the trees.

"A bit, but they have their uses, my Lorde."

"Thought I told you to call me Ichigo."

He didn't miss the quiet gasps, the surreptitious glace from the one who recently started calling himself Shawlong, still kneeling low behind the Vasto Lorde. He couldn't figure this guy out, but he'd gladly take the sudden elevation from king to god in his follower's eyes. None of them would ever get to call one of the big dogs by name, and he dared any of them to stand in his place. This must be how his prey felt, the weak humans he held in his claws and graciously gave time to come to terms with their impeding painful demise.

"Well, Ichigo," his voice did not shake, despite the loud voice in his head screaming at him to run, "sorry to have bothered you again. I'll remember to hunt elsewhere. We'll just run." Run, run, run!

Hopefully none of the piss-ants noticed him flinch when a long-fingered hand reached for him. And he really hoped they didn't see the shivering of his skin or hear the involuntary purr when that hand briefly caressed his neck before landing on his shoulder. The power, the unbelievable power that nearly seared his flesh and made him want nothing more than to feel that hand burning him as his thoughts hazed and his knees shook. Fuck!

"Do me a favor, Grimmjow." Which meant, do this or die. "Keep an eye out when you roam here. If you see that ice dragon, let me know where. I would be very grateful."

"S-sure th-thing, Ichigo." He did not lean forward when that masterful hand moved away. He did not want to seek more of that deliciously terrifying aura. He definitely did not stutter.

"Good man. Be sure to tell your pets that not all souls are fair game here. In fact, best tell them to avoid this area entirely. Well, you have a good hunt."

He didn't even have time to blink before the Vasto Lorde vanished, not even a hint of his delicious power remaining. With a growl, he kicked the dirt, glancing around at the slowly, cautiously unfolding figures. He turned and stalked away, badly needing to kill something. The pack chattered, adding to his bad mood as he ignored excited and awed questions. It was Shawlong's comment that got his imagination spinning and picked up his spirits.

"Just what do you think you'd get from a grateful Vasto Lorde?"

ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooo

The window was open, he noted as he walked across the open field. His Toshiro was a fickle human, locking the window many nights after their second, too brief conversation. The tree had grown, as he had told it to, but not yet enough for the branches to allow him to sit and see easily into the window. So, he settled at the usual distance and waited silently. The light had barely faded in the west before the child was framed by the windowsill, candlelight behind and weak red sunset reflected from clouds lighting the pretty figure in peach and amber.

Happiness. He had not felt it from the boy since before the loss of the dragon, and he dared to think his presence might have brought that light into the bright eyes he greeted with a tender smile. Caution, with a small but tasty dose of fear ever present, and the excitement that flared in the little mortal every time their eyes met, he hummed in pleasure as he explored these feelings, the rapport between them much stronger when he could look into those lovely gems.

"Good evening, demon."

"Oh, are we being polite tonight? Good evening, human. How are you this fine night?"

The little imp grinned, and he spared a moment to appreciate the spike of sharp hunger in response. It was fortunate that humans could not sense emotion the same way his kind could, or the window would have slammed shut once more.

"Well enough, demon. Are you not cold?"

"I do not get cold easily, but I thank you for the concern. Have you lived in this city your entire life, child?"

"I have. Why do you ask?"

"You have never seen true winter, then. The harmless treat of snow here is very different elsewhere. I have walked lands where the snow and ice are so deep they would cover your city and leave no trace."

He had the human's full attention now, much to his delight. Ichigo had been thinking on this, the best approach for the surprisingly resilient mind. The boy's own curiosity was the answer, the mind's doorway that would open into that intriguing soul. It would be the key to dragging his prey out from behind the wall into the night without force or breaking the strong will.

The smile vanished as the shining figure turned and left. He was certain he had the right lure. Then the noise of scraping reached his ears. His Toshiro reappeared, sitting in the chair he had dragged as close to the window as possible. What a charming sight as the white-crowned head rested on arms folded across the windowsill.

"Will you tell me of it, demon? Do humans live in such a harsh place?"

Well, that was even easier than he expected. So far, he was enjoying this exchange, civil, almost friendly. Once, long ago he thought, he had trapped a strong demon hunter. The man took days to die, and Ichigo had not torn down the wavering barriers the human had hidden behind, respecting the strength of his prey in its final moments. They had talked, his first true conversation with a human, until the man willingly lowered the weak shields and welcomed the death he had fled. Ichigo remembered every word, and the nearly kind touch of the warrior's hands. It had been a gentle death, an intimate death. He would win the same knowing surrender from this beautiful boy, he swore it to himself.

"On one condition, and it may be painful for you to pay my price." The turquoise eyes narrowed. "Tell me why your kind would trade a mighty defender for a crude and ugly spell."

Toshiro looked away. It was not as easy to think rationally when those inhuman eyes were the center of his attention. He tried to think quickly if there was anything dangerous in giving the demon what he knew of this but could not see a clear risk. There must be one. But he had already committed to conversing and knew it would involve give and take. He did not want to make it a war of wits, even if that decision meant he gave away more than he received.

"Some time ago, let's see, five years now, the petty lord who runs this city died."

"The same fever that killed your mother?"

The interruption was too sudden to hide his wince. It was just one of many wounds the demon would inflict, he knew, and he could almost feel the enjoyment the demon took in causing him pain.

"Perceptive demon. Yes, it was, and the man's son took over. The former lord was nothing impressive, but his son is slovenly, greedy, arrogant, and worse. He's stupid, an utter imbecile. It was his decision to stop paying the dragon's tribute. The mage was not cheap, I have heard, but the mage's spell is supposed to last twenty years, making the cost far less than the tribute."

"For money? They let the dragon leave for the sake of money?"

"Do you understand this, demon? Humans will do just about anything for wealth."

The demon's chuckle was a dark sound, a deep sound that seeped sin and decadence straight into his veins. He had prepared for it, and this time he did not shudder at the thrill of fright and something else that he did not look at too closely. A demon would find many easy meals with a clawed hand full of gold. Yet, this demon had not offered him riches, had not offered him anything at all.

"This I know well, having seen the proof an infinite number of times. Yet for all my experience with your species, I still find it hard to believe that any creature could be so foolish. That dragon was spectacular, and a true deterrent to my kind. Even I did not dare to approach the city when he was present. And now, here I am, almost close enough to tear out your pretty little heart."

This time he was ready and let the potentially damaging words flow through him as if reading them on a page. Something else caught his attention, and he celebrated his own small victory as the demon showed surprise.

"He? Are you saying the dragon was male?"

"Of course. The sheer size made that clear, males being much larger. And a female ice dragon would never travel so far from home unless ancient or too young to reproduce. Certainly, a female would not commit to years away from the mountains. Dragons take a very long time to bear and raise their young, one reason why they are so rare."

He blinked, dazed by the many jewels scattered in front of him, unable to decide which to pick up, what question to ask next. Lands with snow that covered cities, the secret lives of mystical creatures, the far darker secrets of demonkind. He took a slow breath, feeling the black and gold eyes boring into him above the smirking lips. The demon had decided to seduce him with knowledge, to intrigue him. It seemed an unreliable and long way to go about earning a meal, but he was certain there were dangers he could not yet see.

He had read that strong demons only needed to gain a sliver of their prey's attention, a second of eye contact to invade your mind and drive you mad. Other than implications of a gruesome death, this demon had done nothing of the sort. But the monster did not hide the temptation nor the consequences.

"You do not even try to hide your intentions, demon."

The handsome face cocked to the side.

"Why would I hide my nature, human? This is a simple exchange. I will give you what you want; ask your questions and I will answer. And you will willingly give me what I want in return."

"I will not."

The demon just widened his grin, too wide for his face, and the image of a snake unhinging its jaw to swallow him whole flashed through his mind.

"The high mountains are the best places to find ice dragons. Humans cannot live there; the very air would freeze your fragile lungs with your first breath. At the tops of these mountains, you can see the stars even at midday, and the strongest birds cannot find enough air to fly. It is the magic of dragons that allows them to master such heights."

Toshiro let the fear go. He would have to become much better at surviving the taunts and threats. Otherwise, the demon would be right, and the knowledge gained would cost him his life before he could do anything useful with it. He let his chin fall back to his forearm and listened with rapt attention to the words of the demon.

ooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooo


A/N - In response to Buddy the Mean Peacock - thank you for the review! It's going to be a long while before Toshiro/Grimmjow, just so you don't get too anxious. I've been flirting with pairing those two in several of my stories. Ichigo/Grimmjow isn't that far off, though. This isn't what I'd call slow burn, but it is for me - I usually have sex scenes within a few chapters!