Chapter 9 – Will

Everything was dark.

Nico's head felt like it was full of cotton and his mouth was dry. So dry it hurt. He could tell he'd been drugged, but his body felt like lead and he couldn't even manage to get alarmed about it.

He tried to swallow, to lick his lips and relieve the painful dryness, but he couldn't.

His senses were all out of whack and he couldn't really get any kind of reading about where he was. It was all slippery, elusive, like a dream. Fear flooded him, thick and cloying.

Nico willed himself to move, to open his eyes, to sit up and rip at whatever bonds were holding him captive. He didn't know where he was, but he needed to get out or the people holding him captive better watch out because he was going to tear their freaking heads off.

As soon as he can figure out how to open his eyes. Damn… when did that become so hard, anyway?

Nico kept struggling and finally lights flooded his vision. Blurry shapes, indistinct lines coalescing slowly with effort. Fear and worry drained away from him with warm relief, because the first thing he saw was…Harold.

"H-…" Nico's voice croaked, his throat dry and aching. Before he could think about swallowing his own spit to wet his parched throat, a hand came flying down across his face, slapping him hard.

Geez…what the hell was that for?

Everything went quiet and for a moment, Nico thought the darkness was going to take him back in. "HAROLD, NO!" Nico heard a familiar voice scream out loud, just moments before he saw another hand flying toward him. This time, it was stopped just inches away from his face. Nico's face twisted in pain as he peered at his savior. Oh, thank god Violet was here.

Wait, where was here?

Where am I? What happened? Nico vaguely remembered flashing lights and the taste of something sweet… His heart suddenly started to race as the memories flooded back. Valentine… he'd drank Valentine's blood. He'd kissed and-…Nico shuddered despite himself. He'd kissed Valentine. Maybe that's why his mouth was so dry and tasted so foul. He almost smirked at the thought. Just almost.

Slowly, Nico was able to survey his surroundings. He was in his bedroom and god, someone had bothered to tidy the place up a bit. He was going to wring out the neck of the person who did it. Nobody was allowed to touch Nico's stuff. But first, he had to sit up…

Nico reeled in shock and pain. Ill-hidden panic flashed across his pale face as pain shot all throughout his body almost unbearably. He felt a hand gently shove him back down against the bed, "Try not to move, your body's still weak," Arielle's soft voice soothed him only for a moment before Ivan burst into the room, face slightly flushed.

"I-..Is it true, is he finally awake-…Oh god I could kiss you right now," Ivan ran to the bed where Nico was laying down, and Nico's eyes widened at the other vampires, as if to say 'isn't anyone going to stop him!?'

Unfortunately, no one did, and Nico had to squirm uncomfortably and hopelessly as Ivan planted a fat one against his cheek, right where Harold had so nicely slapped him.

"I'm going to kill you," Nico hissed at Ivan through gritted teeth, but the curly-haired boy merely grinned at him.

"Awww, Nicky, come on. You finally wake up after two weeks and the first thing you—"

It seemed to take Nico a moment to absorb what Ivan was saying and confusion flickered through his green eyes. Two weeks? He'd been out for two weeks?!

"Um, Nicky, you okay? You look a bit pale," Ivan said, pausing for a moment, then smiling as if someone had said a joke. Ha. Vampire. Pale. Get it? Ha. Haaha. Ha. Ivan coughed.

"Where's Valentine? Does he know about…" He looked up at the other vampires, and they seemed to understand what he was trying to ask. Does Valentine know that vampires exist? It's only obvious the halfblood would ask, since he'd been awake when Nico sank his teeth into that soft, sweet flesh…

A tense, miserably uncomfortable silence hung over the room. The four other vampires present were frozen, trying to avoid looking at anything, including each other. Violet shifted from behind Harold, one hand resting lightly on Nico's shoulder, "Nico…You don't remember?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, her expression pained.

Nico felt sick for a moment. Did something happen to that stupid halfblood? The blonde wouldn't forgive himself if he killed the kid, and the tension in the room wasn't making the bad feeling in his stomach any better. "Remember?" He croaked, frowning. "Remember what?" His eyes narrowed in frustration, "Where the hell is Valentine?" Not caring about the pain, Nico slapped Violet's hand away from his shoulder and made another attempt to sit up. Clenching his fists at his sides, the blonde ignored the waves of nausea that crashed hard through him. If Valentine died… No. Nico simply refused to believe that he'd killed that pathetic kid during a hunger frenzy.

As he sat up, Nico realized there was a lot of stuff hooked to him. IV drips – filled with crimson liquid that he could only assume was blood – and other needed equipment. He wasn't wearing a shirt, though white bandages practically covered his whole abdomen and chest, all the way down to his hips. If Harold had used the same method to remove the poison as he did last time, Nico didn't even want to know where the man had bit him. He shuddered at the thought.

Focus.

"N-..Nico, you're not ready to get up yet!" Arielle protested, quickly reaching over to remove the IVs from his arms before Nico could yank them out and make a mess. Why the hell weren't they telling him where Valentine was?

Violet was suddenly in front of Nico, preventing him from standing on his feet. He'd already made it up this far, he wasn't going to give up now… Reaching forward, he tried to shove her out of the way, but she didn't budge.

"He lost a lot of blood, Nico," She started slowly, watching as Nico's irritated expression turned to one of confusion.

Oh god, he is dead. Nico's chest was so tight he couldn't breathe. He was still reeling in shock. All he could see in his minds eye was Valentine's trembling body convulsing under his grip as he sucked the life out of him. His fault…Oh God…his fault…Rage, quick and hot flew up to cover the unbearable agony and his eyes were icy steel as they locked on Harold.

"Idiot! Why did you save me, why couldn't you save him!?" His voice rasped raw, anger only just covering his broken and shattered insides, but the others couldn't see that. "You tried so hard to protect him for 12 years. So why friggin' let him die now?! What, was this what you meant by 'testing' him out to see if he was a halfblood?!" Nico almost trembled from the rage and hurt tearing him apart.

"Shut up," Harold ground out through his teeth, too worked up with Nico's bullshit to even come up with a better retort. He'd warned the boy not to touch Valentine, and he'd disobeyed. He thought Nico would be stronger than that, which is the only reason he'd allowed Nico to go on watch-duty that night. Clearly, he'd been wrong. Nico was weak. Weak, but… he didn't deserve to feel as bad as he looked. Reluctantly, Harold lowered his gaze. "Valentine's not dead, Nico. But he's not awake yet, either."

Nico's heart had almost literally stopped beating – and this time, it wasn't by will. There was no expressing the sheer, terrified panic that staked through him in that horrible moment. Nico was prepared to swear it had taken centuries off his life. "Wh-..what?" Valentine wasn't dead? Why the hell did these guys make it seem like…like…

Because they're worried you'll just go and hurt him again.

Ivan must have read his thoughts, because he suddenly spoke up. "He's taking a bit longer to recover than you did, so it might be better if you just—"

Nico's glare hardened. "I didn't mean to bite him, alright? He just started bleeding, and I…" Nico's voice cracked. And I devoured him. I lost control. I vamped out.

Ivan lowered his accusing gaze, "I didn't mean that, it's just… He's conscious enough to hear us. You…You sort of scared him back there, Nico." His voice was gentle, sympathetic. "He was barely alive when we found him. And you…" Nico peered at Ivan, silently daring him to say anything. Nico would have at his head. "…You wouldn't let go of him. If we hadn't called to make sure you were okay out there in the rain, we would've never…You both nearly died. Was…was it worth it?"

Yes. Every last drop.

"No. He makes a terrible midnight snack. I feel bloated." It was a pale shadow of Nico's usual sarcasm, but the fact that that was actually faintly, if painfully, a little funny threw the other vampires off. They didn't know how to respond. Nico didn't need them to. He shut his eyes for a moment, preparing himself for the pain, and took a step forward.

His insides felt like they didn't want to stay inside, but the pain was definitely subsiding. He couldn't remember how much he'd drank from Valentine, and he didn't even want to start thinking about how much poison had coursed through his veins. The other vampires immediately stepped forward to stop Nico from stressing his body, but Harold made a gesture telling them to leave the blonde alone.

It took Nico a lifetime to make it to his door. He ached so badly inside he could barely breathe. The others so desperately wanted to help him, but Harold's expression clearly told them to back off. They'd already done their part in healing Nico – for days, they constantly and so very generously shared their blood with him to keep him alive. Now, he had to heal on his own. Harold needed them to understand that.

Nico was smart and had already picked up the fact that Valentine was probably somewhere in their mansion. He doubted Harold would leave the kid alone back at his apartment. So without wasting any time, Nico fled past each bedroom, unlocking and pushing doors open. Only one door didn't budge – Arielle's door. Nico's knuckles turned white as he gripped the door handle, ready to dislocate it from the rest of the door.

"N-..No! Hold on, I have the key!" Arielle's long auburn locks flew behind her as she hurried to Nico's side. She slid a single silver key inside the lock, but paused before pushing the door open for her secret crush. "I…Nico, I don't think you're ready to—"

Nico shoved her out of the way and took a step forward, freezing at the doorway. Arielle closed her eyes, battling the butterflies in her stomach and the intense tightness in her throat. Don't lose perspective, she told herself as she quietly removed herself from Nico's path to let the boy absorb the sight in front of him.

The room was too empty. Yes, Nico could hear the bustle of noise outside the door as the other vampires caught up, the hurry of feet in the hall, muted voices, the small beeping of the machine Valentine was hooked to….Nico could hear what was being said three rooms down if he wanted to. But he had no interest in what was going on out there. His entire focus was on what was going on in here. In Arielle's room. And the room felt far too empty. Because even though he could see Valentine's still body on the bed, he couldn't smell him and his steady heartbeat was so weak, so faded.

Valentine's eyes were closed, the machines were practically breathing for him in soft, steady rhythm. He lay still and silent, and….it wasn't right. That kid was never silent. Even when he slept. Even when he didn't speak, there was always that annoying quirk of his lips or the spark in his eyes that spoke volumes. For one long moment, Nico actually expected Valentine to sit up and shoot him one of those lazy, nervous glares of his. A sarcastic remark, one endearing insult from those deathly still, pale lips. Nico practically willed him to open his eyes. To yell at him. Tell Nico it was his fault.

Please, just wake up.

But Valentine didn't wake up, leaving Nico alone in his guilt. He'd never truly harmed anyone he didn't want to harm. Sure, he wasn't fond of this guy, but he wasn't fond of losing control either. And he had definitely lost control. What he was looking at was just the result of his weakness, and Nico didn't like that. He couldn't help but wonder if it had been better if Valentine had died…that way, Nico could just be guilty for a while and eventually get over it. But now… that pale, weak face would just be a constant reminder that Nico had screwed up. He hated screwing up. He hated mistakes.

Nico's eyes narrowed in deep anger. Valentine was his mistake.

None of the other vampires seemed to know what was going on through Nico's mind as the blonde slid into the room and stood at Valentine's bedside.

Nico knew Valentine's will was strong. The stupid boy had always been strong inside – it's the only reason he'd lived through his parent's abuse, probably. It was the only reason he lived in a coma-state for 12 years without giving out. It was the only reason he was still alive now. A small part of Nico knew that he despised the boy for being so strong – he'd felt that hatred the very moment Harold brought him in 12 years ago, which is why he'd so violently disagreed to taking care of him. Nico could only hope to have such strong will. It wasn't jealousy, it was just…annoyance. Irritation in what he didn't understand. Valentine's life was a mess, Nico didn't see why he'd want to live through anything. But, clearly, something was keeping him going.

He just didn't know what would keep him going now. Valentine was a fighter, but what was he fighting for?

Someone from behind Nico asked if he was okay, but the blonde didn't seem to hear. His gaze never left the dark hair that brushed the pillow, the dark lashes that brushed against Valentine's cheek. Valentine was shirtless, with only a thin sheet pulled up to his chin. Nico tugged the sheet down, just an inch, and froze.

Valentine hadn't just been bitten… he'd been bloody butchered. The faint scars revealed that he'd been bitten at least three or four times on both sides of his neck, and though the cut on the corner of his pale lips was barely visible, the scar left behind was much larger than he remembered it being. He'd always had the impression that Valentine could somehow heal bitemarks completely, but it seemed like this time the scars remained, as if to taunt him. Nico swallowed hard and pulled the sheet down a bit further, just a couple more inches.

"Nico, maybe you shouldn't…." Nico barely heard Violet's scared whisper as he eyed the thin scars trailing down Valentine's collarbones down to his chest.

"Oh, stop your screaming, no one will hear you," the soft, raspy hiss from the other boy that barely sounded like Nico's voice sent an unexpected shudder down Valentine's back. He wasn't sure Nico was entirely conscious, and he definitely wasn't himself, but…he was right. Some part of Valentine had a feeling no one would hear his desperate cries for help under this rain, and he could feel himself resigning to accept that.

Valentine gave up fighting and screaming and let the strange, dark mix of pain and fear take him, his head falling to one side, his heart thudding loudly as he let the other boy have way with his neck. He was too tired, so tired…

Nico continued to bite him and drink his blood in deep, needy droughts despite the burning sensation in his own guts. He knew the poison would soon consume him, but not before he consumed this delicacy first. He untangled his fingers from one of Valentine's hands and used his sharp nail through the boy's shirt, cutting through his skin in the process. He savored the boy's gasps, the taste of fear in his blood. Yes….more blood…that's what he needed. That's what would make him happy. Nico felt Valentine fading, but he didn't care as he cut at Valentine's collarbone area, his body shivering as he caught sight of the seeping blood.

He felt so powerful, despite the burning sensation in his gut. Nothing could stop him. Nothing.

Nico's hands were shaking and the tip of the bed sheet nearly slipped from his trembling fingers. He had a feeling he didn't need to look any further down Valentine's body to know that he'd ripped the boy apart. He did not forget the raw, dark pleasure of drinking and tearing that flesh, it echoed strongly through him even now. The bloodlust had clouded his memories of the slaughter, but they'd come back soon enough. He didn't want them to.

"He woke up a few times," Violet's voice tore through Nico's suffocating thoughts. "He wasn't really conscious, he just… he asked about you." When Nico glanced up to meet Violet's gaze, she continued. "He wanted to know if you were okay."

If he was okay? If he was okay? The boy had practically been slaughtered out in the open, and he wanted to know if his near-killer was alright? This kid was so irritating, and so.. so…

"Stupid," Nico mumbled under his breath, his piercing gaze back on the still body. "Wake up so I can kill you properly this time," he scowled, pausing as if waiting for a reply from the taunting, pale face.

"He can hear you," Ivan pointed out quietly as he connected with Valentine's mind and sifted through his thoughts.

"Good. I was hoping he did."

Vincent pressed his hands over his ears, shaking, trying to block out the words. He couldn't do this. Maybe if it wasn't all so fresh and raw and his mind didn't feel like it had been run through a meat grinder, he could have handled things better. Maybe then he could have done what he knew what he needed to do. He could have nodded and acted like everything was okay and what Fitch was saying was a lie. Could have pretended that his son – his own son – wasn't a vampire murder weapon. He was so horribly hurt and confused, he just couldn't deal with the truth and Fitch was accidentally forcing him to do so while the wounds were still much too raw.

"Stop…" Vincent groaned, the unstable sensations unfurling inside of him, frightening in their intensity as they seared through his chest like a wave of power expanding outward. He screwed his eyes shut, swaying.

Fitch shook his head, trying to reason with his hurt friend. "You can't pretend it didn't happen. That girl's body was poisoned, and blood from your lineage was on her lips. It's only time before the Elders find out. When we find Valentine, you will have to—"

Hearing Valentine's name mentioned, being reminded of everything he had forfeited and lost just about broke him. He couldn't play this 'what will we do with Valentine next?' game right now. They'd been playing it far too long. "Stop! Shut up! Shut up!" he half raged, half pleaded. "I-…" his voice croaked and Vincent had to clear his throat with a cough before continuing, "I haven't even had the chance to speak with my boy…"

"You know that's not possible. We made a promise long ago to keep him away from our world, and—"

"Y-you don't understand what I'm saying, Fitch," Vincent slowly opened his eyes and lowered his hands, his hoarse voice a near whisper. His pained blue eyes fixed on his friend, as if expecting the other vampire to understand what was in his mind.

And somehow, Fitch did. And he didn't like it – not one bit. It was something they'd discussed before during evening conversations, but it had been a joke at the time. Vincent wanted to meet Valentine – not as his father – but as a simple acquaintance. Vincent knew he couldn't speak to Valentine without revealing his identity as his father, as a…vampire. However, if Valentine's identity was soon to be revealed to the Elders, the boy didn't have much longer. It didn't matter at this point if Valentine found out who his father is – Vincent just knew that he had to talk to his own flesh and blood, at least once. Fitch's eyes widened as he processed what Vincent might be considering, "You don't… No! Vincent, it's too risky! The boy is already doomed, why must you place yourself in a situation with the Elders that will make them consider getting rid of you, as well?!"

"He is not doomed," was all Vincent muttered.

He was getting tired of these conversations with his dearest friend. If Vincent wanted to doom himself, then why can't Fitch just let him be? They had already lived far too long, anyway, and Vincent would gladly risk his life to his boy at least once. Fitch had never wanted children, he would never understand. He would never feel the pain of a father's worry over a son that was in danger.

It was a surprise when Fitch pressed a reassuring hand against Vincent's shoulder and gave the other a warm smile, "I hear there's a group of young vampires living near the area the girl's body was found. A large mansion, not far from the forested area. Perhaps you can start there?"

Vincent wasn't sure how to thank his friend. He felt guilty at heart for accusing Fitch of being heartless and misunderstanding, so all he could do was nod weakly. His son… was it really okay to finally see him? He wondered what he was like, if he had his strong chin, if he was eating well… Vincent swallowed around a lump forming in his throat. Was it finally time?

"Which vampires reside there? Anyone to be worried about?" Vincent knew they were far older than most vampires – they were nearly 500 years old, yet looked fresh in their early 30's. It was nothing compared to the thousand year old Elders. Still, that didn't mean he could underestimate the young ones. If anything, it was the young ones he had to worry about – they were still hunger-crazed and irrational in their actions. Like young teenagers with credit cards and fake .

Fitch looked deep in thought for a moment, "Harold is the oldest one, their guardian. He is perhaps one or two centuries younger than us. The others cannot be much older than a century, maybe a century and a half. They're nothing to worry abou-…. Actually…" The man suddenly turned away, his gaze drifting off into the distance.

"What? What is it, friend?" Vincent pushed, growing impatient with anticipation.

"At a meeting not too long ago, Harold spoke of one of the vampires he resides with. A rash boy, just a bit under two centuries old. Dirty-blonde hair, striking green eyes. He said the kid had a death wish," Fitch lightly snorted under his breath. "A vampire with a death wish is a dangerous one, they always do stupid stuff."

Vincent could have rolled his eyes. "He hardly seems like a threat, but I'll be careful."

Fitch lightly chuckled under his breath. "It's just ironic, because the kid apparently originally died of suicide. Damn the vampire that revived him and decided to double his misery and make him immortal."

Suddenly, Vincent's blood went cold and a chill ran through his body in shock. Suicide?

He recalled one time, just a few centuries ago, when he found a teenage boy just at the edge of eighteen years old. The boy had killed his parents in some accident that Vincent couldn't recall the details of. However, just after the so called 'accident', Vincent had found the boy slashing at his own wrists and flesh, screaming something about hating life and blah, blah, blah. Some teen angst. Vincent hadn't even felt sympathy for the boy – he'd felt nothing back then, really. It was just not very amusing to watch some kid cry over his life, so Vincent had taken it upon himself to shut the kid up and drink from his already bleeding body. It was basically a free meal, so why not? The boy hadn't even protested, hadn't tried to argue.

It was probably the most boring meal Vincent had had in a while.

In an attempt to spice things up, he gave the boy some of his own blood at the point of his death, turning him into one of Vincent's kind. The boy never forgave him and had sworn revenge, but that was centuries ago.

The boy probably found a way to kill himself by now, surely? Vincent didn't want to have to enter some revenge-seeking kid's house unarmed.

"Was the boy's name Nicholas?"

Fitch looked puzzled for a moment, and Vincent nearly sighed in relief.

That is, until Fitch chuckled lightly and nodded. "How did you know?"

uh oh cheerio! And now the actual story begins. *wheezes* pretty please, for the sake of this story's survival, shoot me a review or any feedback you might have! Everything is appreciated and read! For those of you who have been with me since the very beginning, i love you and hope you receive the big fat smooch i'm throwing you right now!