Tainted But Beautiful

Part 2: The Secrets

20. Darkness

Pairings: AkuZeku, Zemyx, AkuRoku, AxDem, minor onesided VexZex, XemSaix

Rated: M

Warnings: Vampires, vampires, vampires...uh, yaoi, AU-ish-ness, abuse, noncon, rape, graphic scenes, character death, OVERALL WEIRDNESS.

Summary: Axel is a powerful vampire slayer who's captured Zexion, a vampire, as his pet. What Axel doesn't bargain on is Demyx, his former student, developing a strong attraction to Zexion...

Notes: Another update! And probably the last one in a while, seeing as on Saturday I'm leaving for NYC for 2 weeks. With no internet access. But it's NEW frakking YORK frakking CITY. Who needs internet there? So small sacrifices.

You're probably going to all hate me with this chapter, because...it makes no sense. It will, come chapter 21, but right now...a lot of stuff happens with no explanation. I won't do the BSG thing (heaven forbid) and never explain it, but I figure I've been hammering you readers with too many explanations recently, so...bear with me. I'm not suddenly doing an ass-pull or anything like that.

Anyway, I hope you'll all enjoy the Zemyx scene at the end (fluffy, not sex). I like this chapter for its emphasis on character development. Hahahaha, I'm actually unsure now whether Zexion or Demyx is the protagonist. It started out Demyx but the focus has been steadily shifting to Zexion...

For a wild moment, it felt almost like time had frozen. Zexion remained still, where he was, not daring to breathe, while from behind him Axel, Demyx, and Roxas were staring in utter astonishment. Zexion didn't dare look ahead, to meet what he was sure was going to be Saix and the Superior's disapproval...

A sharp intake of breath from Saix; Zexion flinched, it was happening. "What do you mean, 'no'?"

"I mean what I say," said Zexion, and, wildly, before he could think about what he saying: "Generally, as far as I am aware, 'no' is a statement in the negative, used to deny a statement or reject a request."

He had no idea what he was doing, reciting definitions to Saix of all people, but the words just came tumbling out anyway. The instant they did, he felt mortified: Saix had known perfectly well what Zexion had meant.

An ugly spasm crossed Saix's face, before his usually flat neutrality replaced it. He didn't speak, though; instead, Xemnas stepped forward, his coat swishing around him, his dark presence hardening, becoming icier. Zexion, despite himself, took a step backwards, not wanting to face the Superior's disapproval.

When Xemnas, spoke, though, his tone was low, almost cajoling. "Are you certain, Ienzo...? Are you aware of what you are saying? Did you mean it, when you said that?"

He was talking down to Zexion, treating Zexion like a child or worse. No, like an incubus. Zexion gritted his teeth and took another step backwards, closer to Demyx's sea-salt and ocean breeze presence. No one moved; all were tense, waiting, waiting for the inevitable reaction. There could be no turning back now, once Zexion had openly defied the Superior. He could never, even if he eventually came to regret this decision, crawl back to the Superior and beg for forgiveness. He'd irrevocably put a chasm between himself and the Superior. In a way, that frightened him, but at the same time, in strengthened him, gave him a sense of fierce resolve.

For the first time in his life, he had made a decision not as Ienzo, the Superior's obedient incubus, but as Zexion, the vampire who wanted nothing more than Demyx's safety and happiness. If he had to defy the Superior to ensure Demyx stayed alive, then he was all too glad to do it.

"Yes," said Zexion, squaring his shoulders and looking the Superior dead in the eye. "I meant it."

Xemnas gazed back, his expression unreadable yet ominously dark. "So that is it. You have chosen to defy me, Ienzo."

"That," said Zexion, astonishing himself by the certainty he was putting into his words, "is not my name."

Then, for the first time, Xemnas became--angry. Truly angry, not just lightly irritated. His golden eyes darkened, as if a shadow had passed over the surface of the sun, and his mouth twisted in a horrible scowl--

Zexion tensed, prepared for Xemnas's motion--so he was caught completely off guard when, instead of Xemnas grabbing him and flinging him across the square, something blue and reeking of musk and moonflowers collided into his chest, snarling, knocking him clear over. Wildly, Zexion grappled with the Saix wolf, digging his claws into its paws and trying to kick it off, even as it scratched at his shirt, tearing it open, leaving lines of bright red where it scratched--

Xemnas, Xemnas, where is he, where is he-- thought Zexion wildly. Saix was just a distraction; whatever Xemnas was doing, that was more important, he had to find the Superior, but couldn't detect Xemnas's familiar dark scent anywhere, not when he was being overwhelmed by Saix's stinking musk.

"Get--off--you--feral--dog!" he snarled, managing to kick the wolf off him. Saix flew with a growl and collided against the stone; Zexion quickly scrambled up and swept his eyes over the plaza, searching for Xemnas--

"Demyx!"

Xemnas was right in front of Demyx--he'd reached out and grabbed the startled blonde slayer by the front of the coat, leering dangerously, his mouth only inches from Demyx's neck--

Three gunshots shattered the silence, and Xemnas stumbled, though he did not release Demyx. He whirled around, his silver hair flying, to face Axel, his face drawn in anger, aiming his gun straight at the vampire.

"Put him down," said Axel dangerously.

Xemnas merely smirked at Axel, ignoring the bullet wounds on his back, and bent back over Demyx--but then doubled over when Demyx, grim determination in his blue eyes, drove his knee firmly into Xemnas's stomach. The vampire released Demyx, who dropped to the ground before scrambling to his feet, turning wildly, seemingly looking for something--before he locked eyes with Zexion.

Zexion felt his stomach drop out from under him, and something cold to shoot through his veins. He'd never--never--seen such a light in Demyx's ocean-blue eyes before. A determined light, a fierce light, a light that said I'm ready to fight; are you?

Zexion jerked his head in a nod. He couldn't, however, quell the sinking sensation inside him, the feeling that he had lost something as well as gained. Because he saw in the clarity of that instant that Demyx had changed, that he would never smile so easily or laugh with such carelessness again. He'd become grim, focused, whittled to a sharp point of purpose just like Zexion had been. Zexion, and Axel, and Roxas.

He didn't get much longer to muse on the new Demyx, though, before the stench of musk approached him from the side; whirling around, Zexion saw the Saix wolf barrelling straight toward him, sharp canines bared, a murderous light in its golden eyes.

Zexion reacted on instinct more than anything, letting the vicious hatred for the werewolf and all of its kind that flowed through his veins guide him. Snarling ferociously, he rolled out of the wolf's path before leaping upright again. The wolf unleashed a rumbling growl, which Zexion returned with an answering snarl, and the two circled each other, locking eyes, blue into gold, instinctual hatred propelling them, waiting for an opening...

A tiny flicker of movement distracted Zexion--he saw out of the corner of his eye Axel tossing a gun to Demyx and then the both of them, shooting together, riddling Xemnas's body full of bullets--

The opening was enough for Saix. The next instant Zexion fell, sputtering, to the ground, cracking his shoulder hard against the stone as Saix swatted at him with a massive paw. Zexion kicked out, catching the wolf in the abdomen. The wolf unleashed a howl that seemed to cause the dark sky above to tremble, before dashing towards Zexion again, its razor-sharp teeth gleaming, prepared to catch Zexion's throat between its powerful jaws...

Not that the incubus was about to let that happen. As the wolf approached, he raked out with his claws, opening four lines of bright red over the wolf's already-scarred muzzle. Saix roared, shaking his own blood all over Zexion--Zexion backed off, breathing hard, wiping his blood-stained claws on his pants.

"Have at me, you foul dog," he hissed.

The wolf merely growled, and dove for Zexion again. Zexion leapt backwards, out of Saix's reach, landing gracefully on the edge of the fountain. He had the high ground, now, but wasn't sure how much of an advantage it was, not when he was breathing so hard and sweat was standing out in a slick sheen on his pale neck...

Damn. No matter how wildly the adrenaline surged in his veins, he simply didn't have the strength, the speed, the stamina, to overwhelm the werewolf Saix. But that doesn't mean I can't fight back--with my own skills.

So, as Saix barrelled towards him again, shaking droplets of blood on the ground as he bared his canines in a snarl, Zexion raised his arm in the air and began to call forth an illusion. He'd make Saix think the ground had become slick as oil, and steep as a ramp, so that he'd be slipping and sliding and unable to approach Zexion.

The wolf howled in frustration as he struggled against a ground that had suddenly, for him, become frustratingly slick and steep. To Zexion, of course, it appeared that Saix was just huffing and puffing and sliding and struggling to maintain a grip on the solid and flat bricks with his paws. Convinced he had Saix distracted--at least for the moment--Zexion leapt off the fountain and turned his attention to the fight between Demyx, Axel, Roxas and Xemnas.

The two slayers and the half-made vampire were together assaulting Xemnas, Axel and Demyx firing shot after shot into Xemnas's chest that Xemnas plainly seemed to ignore. He stepped aside from them, as if their shooting was but a minor annoyance, and effortlessly flowed over to the astonished Roxas, whose throat he tightened his hand around--

Only to have Axel charge straight towards him, grabbing Xemnas's wrist with one hand while swinging his silver-plated gun in an arc with the other, bringing it down hard on the side of Xemnas's face. The vampire actually stumbled backwards from the force of the blow, giving Demyx an opening to dive for Xemnas's arm and tug, yanking Roxas free of Xemnas's grip. Roxas tumbled to the ground, disorieinted, but regrouped and leapt up again after a second, scrabbling at Xemnas's bullet-riddled chest with his claws, splashing Xemnas's cold blood on his own face.

They weren't, Zexion thought, doing so bad. He stepped forward to join them--

But then Saix was charging at him again, his head down, murderous intent shining in his golden eyes. Zexion cried out as Saix tackled him, bearing him face-down to the ground; the incubus banged his head against the bricks and felt something wet spread across his forehead, while Saix hooked his claws into the flesh of Zexion's back, drawing blood, crushing Zexion with his horrible, unmovable weight, drowning Zexion in his hideous scent...

"Nggh--get--off--" gasped Zexion, struggling against the wolf. Wildly, he began weaving another illusion, one of himself becoming as darkness, intangible and smooth as liquid, flowing free from beneath Saix's pinning grip. The wolf howled in confusion, releasing him; Zexion quickly stumbled away from Saix, towards the fight.

But he was seeing, to his surprise, his illusion: how odd, Zexion usually didn't see his own illusions unless he specifically willed it so. But he could see it, the darkness creeping from under the werewolf to spread across the bricks, consuming their red roughness with smooth black...now snaking up the fountain, coating in a dull sheen of impenetrable darkness...

It took Zexion a brief, horrified second to realize this was no longer his illusion.

He looked up, even though he felt he already knew what'd he see--the darkness everywhere, snaking in tendrils to cover not just the ground, nor the fountain, nor the storefronts, but also creeping up streetlights, snuffing out their yellowish glows like a candle placed in a bell jar; also reaching towards the sky, blocking the natural silvery light of the stars in favor of a blackness more extreme than any Zexion had ever set his eyes on before. He thought he'd known darkness, being a vampire, a creature of the night, but now he realized he didn't.

He knew the inky blue of the night sky, the white-cold light of the stars. He had not known pure darkness, darkness so concentrated and heavy that it seemed to dull everything, not just his surroundings but even his senses, muffling the scents that had been sharp and clear just moments ago.

Zexion didn't recognize this darkness, and he didn't like it. Whatever it was, it had gone long beyond the petty illusion he'd summoned, into something powerful, all-encompassing...threatening. Whoever was controlling this darkness had to be a threat. Perhaps it was Xemnas himself, but no, because the darkness was swallowing Xemnas at that very moment, a wide-eyed Xemnas who glanced wildly around as if he didn't recognize this strange magic himself.

A new enemy? thought Zexion with something akin to panic. Who? Who could be more powerful than Xemnas?

He glanced wildly around, back and forth, searching for Axel, Roxas, Demyx, even Xemnas and Saix--anyone besides himself. But he saw nothing except the mysterious, shrouding darkness.

It was the strangest situation, standing here all alone in the midst of the deep blackness, seeing no one and nothing else. He'd never felt so exposed, so vulnerable--so alone--before. The solitude, especially, he couldn't stand. The feeling of being isolated, the sole being in a lifeless universe, the last star burning in the dying expanse of space. Zexion fought down a shiver, angrily telling himself it wouldn't do--who the hell was he, a vampire, to be afraid of the dark?

This wasn't a vampire's darkness, though. This was something else entirely, and something he did not like.

Perhaps it was because he was straining his eyes so hard, or only imagining, but he thought he saw something slowly approaching him, something in what he assumed to be the distance (he could no longer tell, given the way the darkness blotted out any noticeable landmarks). It was a tiny blot, but he noticed it because it wasn't dark, but--

Red. The deep crimson shade of life-giving blood. Seeing that blood-red shade caused something inside Zexion to shudder--his hunger. He'd almost forgotten, after all the excitement with Xemnas and Saix... Straightening, Zexion watched the red figure move closer, its crimson color standing out starkly against the uniform blackness.

As it came closer, Zexion realized it was a person--a man. A man dressed in a long, blood-red cloak, his face swathed in bandages the same color, like a livid mask. The man's cloak billowed around him as he walked, casting amber-colored eyes back and forth as if searching for more figures hidden in the darkness. Zexion remained still, uncertainty running through his veins: was this man an enemy, or friend? Was he the one who had cast this darkness?

Zexion thought the wise thing to do would be to back down, but his muscles felt frozen and he couldn't move. He could only stand there, unmoving, fear surging through his body, as the red-cloaked man approached him.

The man paused about two yards in front of Zexion. Zexion swallowed, painfully for he could find no wetness in his mouth. For a long time, the two regarded each other silently, vampire and--mysterious stranger, neither speaking. In a rather foolish way, Zexion was aware of how much taller the man was than he was...

Then, the man spoke, his words sending a jolt running down Zexion's spine: "Greetings...incubus."

Zexion blinked, startled by the sound of the man's voice--it wasn't a deep, all-consuming rumble like he'd been expecting it to be, but a rich, precise, British-accented voice. A voice of a mortal man, not a monster... Straightening his shoulders, Zexion said, "Er....ahh...sir..."

He didn't know what he was going to say, just that it felt better to force words out--foolish as they might be--than to remain standing there silently. The man made it easier, though, when he said, "What is your name?"

"Zexion, sir." Zexion didn't know why he was referring to the man as "sir", as if he was a superior vampire...but figured it wouldn't hurt to show some respect. Especially since he still wasn't sure if the man was an enemy or on his side.

"Zexion." The name was briefly stated, flat as the darkness surrounding them. It was all harsh consonants; nothing like the gentle sounds of his real name, Ienzo--

No, not his real name. His old name. The name he had shed the instant he had defied the Superior.

"You are...an incubus," said the bandaged man, his crisp words cutting through Zexion's thoughts and forcing Zexion's attention back to him. "Very young--less than a century, are you not? You would have been born sometime around 1914--in France, I presume. There is something French to the way you speak..."

Zexion stared in astonishment at the man, unable to do or say anything in response to hearing so many facts about himself from a complete stranger. He was particularly startled by the last bit--for the longest time he'd thought he had purged the last traces of an accent out of his speech, had trained the habits of the old language out of himself. He'd taken care to adopt the neutral American-accented English all the Coven of Thirteen vampires used in dealing with each other.

And speak of the devil. "You are a member of the Coven of Thirteen," the mysterious man was saying.

"No," said Zexion immediately.

The man cast him a strange, sidelong look. Zexion flushed under the intensify of the man's amber-eyed stare, though he didn't know why. "And what do you mean by that, incubus?"

Funny, how his words could have absolutely no weight to them...coming from the mouth of a superior vampire, the self-same phrase would have sounded patronizing, challenging. But coming from this man, it was flat, wordlessly intoned, weightless as darkness.

"I..." Zexion swallowed painful dryness again. "I...when I defied the Sup--Xemnas--back there, I renounced all ties to the coven. I am not part of them anymore. I am--my own person."

It felt strange, being able to say those words. Words he'd never believed in. For as long as he'd lived, he had never belonged to himself--always to other people. To his Superior, then to Axel, then Demyx...but now he was acting as Zexion. On his own.

The man stared, unblinking and silent, at him for a uncomfortably long time. Then, he said, still as weightlessly as before, "You are..quite a remarkably erudite young incubus, Zexion."

Zexion didn't know what to say to this, so he didn't say anything. At length, after he tired of tugging on his sleeve cuffs just for something to do, taking in the ugly red burns Axel's chains had left behind, he said, quietly, not looking up, "What has happened to the others?"

"The one you call the Superior, and his werewolf follower, have been lost in the darkness. But only for now; it cannot hold them for long. Your friends, I assure you, are safe."

There was something in the way that the man said "the Superior" that caused something to tighten within Zexion's chest; it had only been a fraction of a second, but a flash of real pain had shone in the man's eyes when he had said the name...

"What...you..." Zexion's head was beginning to spin; he just couldn't understand this. What was this man? He couldn't be human, but he didn't have a vampire's presence, either. Why had he come here? Had he helped Zexion, and why? There were so many questions, so many things he didn't understand.

So many things he wanted to understand. But he didn't know where to start. All he felt was a throbbing his head, and a weakness in his limbs, and the strong desire to just curl up and sleep...but of course, thinking about everything he'd been through, it made sense. He had spent two months in Axel's "care", constantly being abused; afterwards he'd been punished by the Superior, had even injured himself in an attempt to avoid eating Demyx, and then physically fought against Xemnas and Saix. It was a marvel that he hadn't collapsed earlier under the weight of all his injuries.

"The darkness is affecting you," said the man, his words as flatly-intoned as ever. He took a step closer to Zexion, but strangely the distance between the two didn't seem to close...or maybe Zexion couldn't judge distances anymore in all this uniform black. "Come. You need to rest."

A tiny, rather irreverent part of Zexion thought, No shit. Most of him was feeling to weary to reply, though. Nonetheless, he still wanted an answer--at least one tiny answer, to one tiny question. Quietly, struggling to force words out that wouldn't melt and fade into the omnipresent darkness, he asked:

"Sir...may I ask...what is your name?"

A long silence. The man gazed back at Zexion, his expression unfathomable behind the bandages--yet pained as well, the same sort of life-stealing pain that had gleamed in his eyes for that brief moment earlier. Then, in a voice that was almost gentle, almost sad, he said:

"You may call me DiZ."

Demyx threw himself into the soft pillow, feeling so happy he could have kissed it. Instead, he just threw his arms around it and tugged its softness closer to himself; it felt light as a cloud, warm and comfortable, swamping him like a coccoon.

"Oh, this is great, this is the best," he gasped into the pillow. "I can't believe this is really happening."

Truthfully, Demyx didn't really know what was going on. All he knew was that the mysterious darkness had descended over the square, and then a strange man in red, followed by Zexion, Axel, and Roxas--all of who looked as astonished as Demyx felt--had approached. The man had introduced himself as "DiZ", implied that he created the darkness, said that Saix and Xemnas would not be escaping the darkness for some time, and then...

He'd lead them to a goddamn car. An Aston-Martin, actually. Which was quite nice and comfortable, Demyx had to admit. The instant he'd sank against the leather-upholstered seats, he'd curled up and fallen asleep, despite his pitiful attempts to fight the soul-sucking weariness that had fallen over him. He'd slept comfortably through the rest of the journey, waking up only when he felt a light, cool hand on his shoulder shaking him awake.

And then Demyx found himself in...a manor. A manor in the countryside, overgrown with vines and surrounded by towering maple trees dropping violently-colored leaves. Demyx had stared in disorientation at all the red-orange-yellow, with tinges of green and brown, spread around the manor. Living in a city of black and gray, he'd never seen so many colors in his life. He hadn't thought it possible.

Zexion had snapped Demyx out of his disorientation by dragging the slayer (rather roughly) inside the manor, after the red-robed man. No one was speaking, quite probably because they were all too astonished to put their thoughts in order, let alone voice them. They just allowed the mysterious man to lead them inside, where he then directed them to the baths and bedrooms, before departing.

Right before the man left, though, Axel yelled, his voice trembling with something approaching hysteria, "Just--who the hell are you? What the hell do you want with us?"

The man, DiZ, simply stared back at Axel, his expression unreadable. At length, he said, his rich voice ringing through the vast hall, "Get cleaned up and rest first. Then I will explain everything."

"Awww, fuck--" Axel retorted, but broke off, turning angrily to the side. DiZ seemed to have viewed this as Axel conceding defeat, so swept soundlessly off. Leaving the motley group of slayers and vampires to stand there, until Demyx, still tired, suggested that maybe they should follow through the mysterious man's suggestion and get cleaned up and go to sleep.

And so that had brought him here. After his first hot shower in a week, Demyx had staggered into a sumptuously furnished bedroom and hurled himself in an instant on to the feather-soft bed, hugging the pillow and crooning his joy.

Sure, he was confused as all hell--but happy too. Maybe he didn't know why he was here, or just what the hell was going on, but at the very least he was somewhere that had working showers, bathrooms (thank everything...), soft beds, and seemed relatively far away from Saix and Xemnas and all other sorts of evil vampires.

"Oh, great, this is great," he groan-sobbed.

"Talking to yourself?"

Demyx jumped, startled at hearing the familiar voice laced with sardonic good humor. He tore his eyes from the soft white pillow to see someone standing in the open doorway.

A slight young man with a shock of slate-colored hair, clutching the doorframe with clawed fingers, surveying Demyx queringly with his visible dark blue eye. Zexion looked even paler than Demyx remembered, and much thinner--he could see the sharp angles of the vampire's cheekbones. And injured, too, though all his wounds (both recent and newly-inflicted) had been bandaged. Yet there was something different about the way he was carrying himself. Something more confident.

Zexion stepped into the room without asking for permission. He was wrapped in a fluffy white bathrobe that seemed a size too big for his slender frame, similar to the one Demyx was wearing. Casting his gaze around the room, he said, "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"Er..." Demyx felt himself flush crimson. "No. Nothing at all."

"Are you certain? You sounded like...you were enjoying yourself." The barest hints of a smirk twitched the corners of Zexion's lips.

Demyx blushed brighter, knowing what Zexion was implying. "No, I wasn't doing that...uh, just...just come in. Ienzo."

Zexion twitched as if dispelling a fly. "That's not my name," he said sharply.

"Huh?" A familiar feeling of confusion twisted inside the slayer. "But you--you said--"

Please, not another revelation-and-slash-or-explanation! I've had enough of those, thank you very much!

Instead, Zexion said, looking bitter, "Not any longer. Ienzo is a fool and a weakling. Zexion...is something else."

Demyx realized what the vampire was talking about. He said, "Something better?"

"Not...I don't know." Zexion shook his head. "Perhaps not better...but different."

When he looked back at Demyx, there was such resolve flashing in his eyes that Demyx couldn't argue. He moved closer to the bed, but seemed to be waiting for permission to be allowed on it. Demyx said, patting the bed beside him, "C'mon. Get up here."

Zexion obeyed in a heartbeat, sliding across the floor with the grace Demyx had come to expect and clambering up the bed. As soon as he was next to Demyx, the slayer reached out and draped an arm over Zexion's shoulder, pulling the incubus closer to him. He rested one hand on Zexion's lower back, while teasing his soft slate-blue hair with the other, drinking in Zexion's intoxicatingly familiar presence. Moonlight, violets, blood, darkness, coffee...

All the scents and sensations that made up Zexion, the one who Demyx loved.

"You're not afraid?" murmured Zexion, curling up against Demyx's chest. "I am a hungry vampire..."

"No, you...you don't seem hungry anymore," noted Demyx. "When you're hungry, you seem...I don't know. More feral, I guess? But I can tell, you're not...not anymore."

"You are more astute than I give you credit for," laughed Zexion, the gentle notes of his laughter like falling raindrops. "I...he did feed me, from the blood bank, granted, but I'm not hungry anymore, so that's what matters..."

"He?" said Demyx.

"That man. DiZ. Whoever he is," replied Zexion in a mumble, nestling closer to Demyx so that the slayer could feel the puffs of his breath, cold as winter air, against his neck. The next second, he felt Zexion's mouth on his neck, nipping gently at the skin...

Demyx pushed Zexion away from him; gently, but with conviction. Zexion met Demyx's eyes, looking confused.

"What is it?" he said. "I thought...I thought you wanted this..."

He traced Demyx's chin with a cool finger. Demyx wrapped his hand around Zexion's slender wrist and brought it down to the incubus's side, shaking his head.

"But," said Zexion, sounding even more confused, "you...you wanted me on the bed...with you...I thought it meant that you..."

Of course. Zexion wouldn't understand; to him, physical contact was either punishment or sexual. Still, Demyx thought somewhat sadly, he'd thought Zexion might have learned something from spending so much time with Demyx...

"No," he said, shaking his head. "Look...it's possible to touch without sex being involved at all. Right now, I--I just want to hold you. I just want to hold you and be with you and know that you're here and I'm here and that's all that matters."

"That...that does not make any sense," retorted Zexion. Demyx laughed and ran a hand through Zexion's hair.

"It makes perfect sense to me. C'mon. Let me hold you."

Demyx had the feeling that Zexion was going to shoot back a retort, but instead the incubus buried his face into Demyx's chest and drew closer, wrapping his arms around the slayer's neck. It wasn't hard for Demyx to return the gesture in kind, stroking Zexion's hair with one hand and pressing on the vampire's back with the other, drawing him closer, so that all Demyx knew, all he saw and felt, was Zexion, the beautiful incubus with whom he'd been through so much. Zexion, who had come all this way--even killed--just for Demyx's sake.

He still couldn't wrap his mind around it. Especially what Zexion had done to Roxas. It just wasn't--right. But at the same time, he couldn't help but admire, in the strangest way possible, the single-minded resolve that had drove Zexion to transform Roxas and attack Axel, all so that he could find Demyx. He'd never thought he meant that much to Zexion...

And you say you don't love me.

At length, Zexion spoke, his voice low. "You...you've changed, haven't you, Demyx?"

"Changed?" Demyx blinked, unsettled by this tangent. "What--what do you mean?"

"You're different," said Zexion, staring into Demyx's eyes, looking strangely--bitter? "You've become...I suppose...you've become more mature. Harsher and sadder. More like...me."

Mature? Harsher and sadder? Demyx wasn't aware of any change, but he found himself wondering if his old self--the blithely happy musician who'd first stepped into Axel's villa--would have fought Xemnas. Would have stood his ground for Zexion. Maybe he was different. More decisive, but also much less cheerful than before.

Was that a good or bad thing?

He asked this to Zexion. "Do you like the new me, or the old me better?"

"I..." Zexion paused. "I don't know...it...it's difficult to decide..."

"It's all right," sighed Demyx, running his hand through Zexion's hair. "You don't have to." A pause, and then, "You've changed too."

"Have I?" said Zexion quietly, resting his chin on Demyx's shoulder. Demyx tightened his grip on the incubus and nodded.

"I don't know how...but it seems you're different. You seem...older, I guess."

"Older." Zexion twitched. "For someone who has lived for almost a century, a few months is nothing."

"I know, but I think these past few months have aged you more than the last century has," insisted Demyx. "I mean, I'm pretty sure I've aged more than I have in my entire life."

"You're just projecting your feelings on to me, then," scoffed Zexion, poking Demyx in the back of his neck with a claw. Demyx squeaked.

"Ow! Hey, don't do that...I'm serious, though." But then, smiling, a strange sense of relief washing over him, he said, "But I'm glad to see you're still in top form. Huh? You've got no problems making fun of me. That hasn't changed."

"Simply because you're still as mockable as ever," said Zexion with a dramatic sigh, though when Demyx looked at him the incubus was smirking. The relief magnified tenfold when he saw such a familiar expression on Zexion's face.

Apparently, even after everything they'd been through--after Zexion had turned Roxas and killed Axel, and then turned his back on his Superior forever; after Demyx had been captured by Xaldin, and had his dreams blasted apart--the two of them hadn't been broken. They'd been twisted, turned, torn, had their deepest hopes and realities ripped clean from their souls, but--

They were still whole. Still, beneath it all, beneath all the trauma and pain, the same people.

Could I have done it--could he have done it--if we were alone? If we didn't have anyone else to turn to? It had been the hope of Demyx, he knew, that had animated Zexion for so long. That had led him to the lengths he'd taken. And for Demyx, it had been the hope that Zexion would find him--and later, the feeling of Zexion holding him, reassuring him that not all was lost--that had kept him alive and whole.

When did I come to depend on you so much? He'd asked that of Zexion that time in the square. Zexion could easily ask him the same question.

A part of him wanted to voice these thoughts out loud, but Demyx knew he didn't have the eloquence to express them. They'd burn and choke and die in his throat, left as miserable stutterings because his mind couldn't convert his thoughts into words without sacrificing something crucial. So instead, he settled for tightening his grip on Zexion--the boy he loved--and drawing him closer.

Zexion returned Demyx's hug, mumbling, "I just insulted you. Why are you hugging me?"

Demyx just laughed and patted Zexion on the back. Zexion shook his head ruefully; Demyx felt it as an odd tickling sensation when Zexion's hair brushed his cheek.

"You're still an idiot..." sighed Zexion.

"And you're still as mean as ever, Zexy," said Demyx. "I guess, the more things change, the more they stay the same."

Zexion didn't reply to this except to tighten his grip. Demyx was perfectly fine with that. Let the inevitable explanations, questions, and plans come tomorrow. For now, he'd just content himself with Zexion's familiar presence. It was what he'd fought for--and come hell or high water, it was what he'd fight to keep.

Awwwww....fluff! I guess I do like Zemyx for fluffiness!

Anyway, I'm aware it was short...next chapter, "History" will be the explanation behind DiZ and more worldbuilding (I really, really like the world I've built here...I might swipe it for an actual novel for publication XD). I haven't finished it, though, and I won't be able to put it up before I leave for NYC, so for now...hope you're happy with at least a little preview:

Demyx was startled by how--different--the older slayer appeared. Before, he'd sauntered with such confidence, smirked like he knew every secret in the world and how to exploit them. Now, he was walking, which rather broke Demyx's brain, because he realized he'd never seen Axel walking for real before, in such precise and measured steps. Instead of cut across by a smirk, Axel's face was flat and serious; even the ever-present teasing light to his green eyes had vanished. Nor did he sweep his eyes around inquisitively, surveying the scene spread before him and searching for an advantage to exploit; he kept his gaze focused, directed in a single point of purpose at DiZ.

And ohh...I forgot! This chapter marks the end of part two, "The Secrets"! Part three, "The Renegades" will begin with chapter next, and after that there are only ten chapters to go (plus an epilogue). I'm 2/3 the way through! Keep on encouraging me, people, with your marvelous reviews.