Disclaimer: I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! or Vampire Hunter D.

Here is the continuation of my labor of love (this year has been absolutely...wild...work-wise).

Enjoy!

Chapter Sixty: Adapt

"You've grown," his father observed, his arm still extended. A towering obelisk engulfed D's vision as he refused to take the other's hand. No matter how much time apart or even the man's current statement changed this. The child still saw him as a figure larger than life—frightening and casting long shadows against reality. "Both in skill, and in physicality."

"Tends to happen when you grow up," D replied flatly. His chest ached from withholding his body's attempt at hyperventilation. Of all times for another face to face. He only hoped his appearance did not betray his fear. Or any emotion, at that. His false sense of calm barely held as it was with uttering that simple phrase.

"And would you call yourself grown?" The vampire asked, nonplussed. He motioned to the humans who D counted as friends. "Is that why you've left the man called Bakura?"

"I didn't leave him."

"Oh?" A gleam of the threatening early morning light flickered in red colored eyes. "Then, where is he?"

"We were trying to get away from you!" Claire shouted from her position. D's face paled, gray as the gloom in the looming cloud cover.

"We? Who might you be?"

"Stop," D demanded. With an unusual smile, his father did as he was bid. Once again, his focus returned to the boy. D gave Claire a sharp look before continuing, "These people are none of your concern. You're dealing with me, father."

"Normally I'd have no trouble trusting you on that, but at the moment I'm not so certain. Perhaps I should teach your new friend how to assess her own limitations better?" With ease, the man materialized at Claire's side. The girl jolted back, snatched up her things, and began side-stepping the one who watched her with quiet laughter shaking his shoulders. Green eyes shone with the instinct of a killer, cornered and dangerous, refusing to back down even as she backed away. She held the vampire's gaze enough that the laughter faded, and once again the tall man observed her in ways D hated to think on.

"Father!"

"D-kun…" Yugi's murmur of his name lent to the rage that kindled within the boy. He would not have been in this position if it had not been for these secretive plots, and now he had to protect people from his father's impending wrath rather than be protected by the only one he saw fit to do so. He snarled and used this burst to race to his friend's side—still aware that this was all allowed by his father. Soon allowances would not be made.

The boy raised his blade to keep distance between the vampire and the girl. Even as he did so, he feared his blade would be rent in two like the weapon that had been brandished against him. "Leave her alone!" he commanded. Desperation lent him the bravery he lacked when facing the fear-inspiring aura that pressed upon him.

"What of the others?" his father asked, cocking his head.

"Leave them alone, too!"

The vampire chuckled. "You aren't fast enough to protect them all. Not yet."

"Stop it!" The boy wondered if he had checked the nigh imperceivable crack in his voice before his father had noticed.

"All you need to do is take my hand—or say that you'll return home," D's father reasoned. "And then I'll leave everyone be. If they choose to continue this silly scuffle after we leave, let them. They can do as they like."

"Thank you, Great One, for your generosity," one of the lesser vampires said. Bowing low in supplication, they added, "And may we have access to them all?"

Amami whimpered from her position at the center of the fracas. It was clear what that question meant. D shifted the point of his blade in fury, unused to the senselessness that this rage wrought. He fought to keep his mind rational, but quick thinking. Fluid, not reactionary. The chill he felt from before filled him from core to fingertips, his body a vessel primed for sinister work. He aimed hell at the bowing creature.

"Touch her," he said with cool certainty, "and you will lose your head."

His father shook his head. "Once again, you cannot protect them all. Nor is it your duty. In the end, some sacrifices must be made for the greater good, dear boy. Choose your battles wisely."

"I'm not the only one who'll fight!"

"I see you…and the slight girl beside you…as the only ones daring to make a move. Impressive, bold, but by no means enough."

D's face pinched in a wash of emotions too strong to hide. He knew the man enough to recognize that he weighed these future deaths as an honorable means of going while perpetuating his own line—his own species. All of which would culminate in the subjugation or destruction of people like the ones the boy had grown to care so much for. For which he was half. If his father did not see this, then he was blind. If he accepted this, then why bother with making him? Gritting his teeth, D hissed poison-filled words aimed at his father: "I'll kill you!"

"Oh, you silly fool," the great vampire tutted. "Maybe you should have stayed by that man's side. He might have taught you some sense…even as obstinate as he is."

"Don't you dare talk about him like you know him!" D unleashed, coming to Bakura's defense. "What has he ever been but an experiment to you?! One you were going to destroy?!"

"Destroy?" the behemoth of a man paused and tapped one long fingernail against his chin. "Is that what all of this is about?"

"Don't play stupid, I heard you! He was almost for certain a failure in whatever you were researching and I know what happens to people like that under your 'experienced care'—what a waste!" D spat. "I won't let you go after him, or anyone else for that matter! I'm done with you destroying what is good in this world!"

"Calm yourself and listen to me. Why would I have allowed you to be his ward for so long if that were how I viewed it?" Heavy brows furrowed in contemplation. "You do realize it was only after that decrepit city in Japan that I lost any sight of you?"

D's weapon remained raised, but his resolve wavered in the face of this new reality. "What?"

"Remember, if you had gone back with the escort, none of this would have happened. At least, not in the way it has. Now I am concerned that his misunderstanding and oversimplified view of things transferred to you. Even more concerned now that you're latching onto his more self-destructive behavior rather than the sense I've seen him employ. Come," his father took his turn to command, his patience run out, "it is time to go home. To our new home, where we can begin things anew and create something greater than any minds out there could ever dream of right now. Forget these people, they are as much a lost cause as so many other ingrates of their kind. As for Bakura, I've given him enough chances, and our people are not so forgiving as I have been. It is not every day you have your child kidnapped and dragged through one dangerous situation after another, no matter how enriching the experience may be. And with you now alone, without his watchful eye a second time? Unacceptable. There will be others that understand better—that will work with us, and not constantly against us."

"But—"

"I'd not let my men feast the way they do if it was any other way. We must understand that sometimes our faith is misplaced. There's no harm in accepting we make mistakes, and that in the end we are all transient guests in the greater scheme of things. Now come here."

"Ignore him!" Claire shouted, raising her weapon. "He's just another stupid, scary Outie! Bakura wouldn't let him take you, so you better not let him either!"

"D, come here before I make you."

D took a breath and straightened his posture, his attention captured by the ancient vampire. Sweat ran down his temples and he shuddered like one sick with fever. His blade hand wavered, bobbing centimeters before pulling up only to lose control of it to minute shivers once more. His friends looked on with indescribable fear, rooted to their places in it. Even Claire's bravado failed her. She nearly fell to her knees with the pressure of death that surrounded them. D's father shook his head once more and moved to collect his stubborn child when—

His hand was blocked by something soft and sudden.

D's pupils constricted in shock as he watched multiple brown puffs burst into existence, each one fluffier than the next. Dismembered claws flapped haplessly at his equally confused parent. Between this burgeoning pile of squeaking anomalies, shining swords of light could be seen. The boy took a step back and felt young arms wrap around him.

The area had devolved into madness. Lesser vampires cried out as both daylight and the brilliance of the cross-like apparitions stung their skin and set them alight. The man called Theo stumbled between the budding wall to their right and was almost shoved to D's side by the furry spheres that expanded the barrier between him and his father. The smell of death swelled over the young pair as Theo encircled them with one arm, the other hanging limp at his side with his muscles refusing to respond due to his obvious pain. A cloying scent filled D's nose as he heard the soft patter of blood drip at his feet.

One clawed hand pressed through a shrinking gap before it snapped at the wrist with the building pressure. The three watched in stupefied confusion as the appendage struggled and was yanked back through the space. Fingers reappeared in the ever-enclosing hole accompanied by a second set. A ferocious grunt signaled the opening of said breach, just enough so that D could see his father peering through, his face unreadable save for the anger.

"Run! Run! Run!" They heard Yugi's exhausted voice shout. They moved to do so, but D's father could be seen powering through the obstacle before him, his eyes aflame. The critters keened as some of them evaporated into thin air after claws punctured and tore through them. A distant yelp of pain could be heard from Yugi's direction. A further distance than before. Rapid footfalls followed the cry, while a distinctive pair renewed. Whatever he had done, Yugi had bolted with whoever had been nearest to him at the time, giving D the impression that the man could still run, so long as time was bought. Not that the boy had much in the way of currency to buy it, aside from his person.

Knowing there would be no chance of conventional escape. D did the only thing he could think of.

Threaten his hand.

"Do it," he demanded, raising the blade to his now outstretched left arm. He did not need to explain his wishes. His father still fought against the pileup that threatened to eviscerate him with compression rather than back away and accept yet another defeat. Unsatisfied with the lack of response, D flicked back the fabric of his long sleeve and barked, "Do it or I'll cut you off!"

"Are you nuts!" it shrieked. "We don't even know what it does. And you want to do it now? In front of him, on top of that?!"

"You think I'm joking?" The boy pressed the blade against the back of his wrist. Blood began to ooze from the contact point, much to the horror of those beside him.

"This isn't—"

"Try me."

"That guy's crazy has rubbed off on you!"

"And your usefulness amounts to nothing if we don't work together," D countered, seeing his father worm the bulk of his upper body through the hole he had created. There was not much time left. Only the shaking mound of wall held him in his current position, and not for much longer. The sharp metal tip sunk halfway into D's flesh. A final warning. "Do. It. Now."

'Use "the gift".'

He felt his palm lurch, then expand and stretch as a great and uncomfortable suction began. However, instead of drawing in his father, it seemed to draw in the world around him. Trees warped and shivered, and a great darkness cracked open where the center of this anomaly was pointed. He felt Claire and Theo clinging to him as the world they knew disappeared from their senses while they materialized into a black obscurity even D could not discern their location in. An immense pressure surrounded them, and the boy felt his inner shivering becoming external as the icy atmosphere fell upon them. When the scene unfolded into its full oblivion, the boy recognized the land even without proper sight.

They had somehow entered his dreaming world.

It did not take a genius to see—or rather sense—his friends were incompatible with such a land. Claire still clung on, but her breathing took on a gasp of great effort, whereas Theo barely had the strength to hook his fingers around the cloth of the boy's scarf. Blood dripped from the man as freely as it slid down the boy's own upper arm.

"What the hell is this?" D heard the being in his hand question before the boy felt a stinging pain through its mouth. His arm jolted in protest, a sharp zing from palm to elbow, and he shook his hand to rid it of the unfamiliar pain. Yet, the very same pain alerted him; put all his senses to work. With this clarity he realized they were surrounded. By what, he could only guess. But the dream of the monster within overpowering him, of being over-taken, jarred his mind once more to action. If it possessed him now there would be no saving anyone. There would be no human left within him…and there would be no Bakura.

A curdling squelch of a breath in the distance echoed as confused ambient noise.

"One more time," he directed the symbiont. He tried to flex his hand and sucked in a gasp as the joints refused to move for his efforts. "I know it hurts, but only one more time. We have to go back."

"What was the point of this, then?" Claire uttered just above a whisper. Her fingers dug into the flesh of his upper arm, her nails practically cutting through the fabric of his shirt. Her actions soothed him, if even just a little. While she seemed to be affected, her distress was not as bad as he originally evaluated if she could exert that much energy. "Where are we?"

"We're in the world of my nightmares…"

"What?" This time it was Theo, who had managed to pull his thoughts back into focus rather than succumb to the draining agony that this world left those unprepared in.

"To answer your previous question, though…using this ability was the only thing I could think to do to get away from him. Although I had no idea what it would do…Anyway, that's not important. There're things I do not recognize or understand that are surrounding us. And a monster that calls this place it's home. I think it's close. I think it's feeding on us."

And it certainly felt like it. That odd peaceful exhaustion that he had once experienced seemed to wash over him with blanket like apathy to conceal its true purpose. If that thing were to appear now, he would hardly have the energy to fight against it. He figured that had to do with the gift he had received. His fair-weather ally did not seem to be anywhere nearby, but his jaw ached at the remembrance of a once hazy unpleasantry. He could almost taste the dregs of blood he had managed to procure from Bakura on that mountain pass. It was enough to spur him on.

D lifted his hand once again with a steadying breath. Time seemed at a paradox, both slowed and sped up in a way he could not explain. The churlish guttural sounds sloughed closer. He felt both of those behind him tense. So, they could finally hear it. "Take us back. Please."

Claire wrapped one of her arms around the bleeding man as she waited for the shift to happen and said, "Don't let go. We'll be forever lost if we do."

Theo stirred. "I'm not letting either of you go for any reason, but what do you mean by that?"

"Dunno. I just know it. Do dreams make sense?"

"Intuition, right? But…this isn't a dream."

"Maybe not," she said wryly, "but it's his dream world."

"You've got messed up dreams, kid."

"I'll laugh at that when we are safe and sound," D replied in monotone. He implored his hand once more. "Go on, do it. Unless you want this to be our grave."

"Tell me why a kid gets to be in charge of what I do," the hand grumbled, its voice cracked with strain, before setting to its unpleasant task once more. D felt the piercing pain draw to his elbow once again and gritted his teeth to bear it. Readjusting oneself in different dimensions was no easy task—not that the boy was sure of what exactly was going on.

This time, the world assaulted them with sunlight and a slight frost upon the ground. Weightless for an instant, they then all fell into a heap upon the ice-packed earth. D scrambled to his feet, his upper wrist still oozing blood, and scanned the area around them as the other two groaned from their prone positions. The boy could not withhold the gasp that left him. He went so far as to rub his eyes at the picture that confronted them all.

They were still in the small circle of trees, but the bodies of the vampires—or what remained of them—lay scattered as so much ash. Footprints frozen in time ran in too many directions to get a clear glimpse of where their owners had run off to. Deep holes burrowed into the ground where the shining swords had once been. D kneeled and ran his fingers along the area, then looked up to where he had once seen his father so hastily trying to get to him. Nothing was there now, but D could still remember that strange look on his father's face. Able now to review his memories in this strange calm, he considered the indescribable expression. That annoyed pride? That hurt acceptance? What was that expression? Why did he have it? And, more importantly, where did he go?

Not a sign of that great vampire remained. His scent, his aura, all had vanished as quickly as it had appeared. The haphazard footprints spoke of the others' possible escape, for a different view would have greeted them if it had been any other way. In truth, this meeting had been accidental. It must have made little difference to go after the retreating forces now; they no longer had what he was semi-searching for. That had disappeared right before his eyes. D could almost feel his father's mind working within his own. Let them run and freeze and bleed and die on their own accord. There were other things to attend to, and with luck, father and son would meet again. He would also need to study these abilities he kept running into. First Bakura, then (not that he would know who) Yugi, and lastly D himself. Albeit D did not really consider himself as that last example, rather the strange ability awoken in his hand. These skills were not the same, they just lead to similar means. Or if they were similar, they manifested in a way completely unrelated to how Bakura had awoken to his. At least, so the boy thought.

D considered the tracks once more, counting the separate sets of prints and noted the escape routes of each trail. The remaining three had been left to their own devices. Not a footfall had sat long enough to sink into the mud as if waiting for someone to join them. A serious loss had been accepted, D surmised, and a great guilt to bear if they ever met up again. How would Yugi explain that his sudden abilities did not change the fact he lost the one Bakura had been trying to keep safe all this time?

A snort escaped the boy, which devolved into a heartless cackle. What luck for the supposed King of Games? His joyless smirk failed as he sobered in an instant at his own question. This had not been a game at all. He turned back to the other two.

Theo had found his hat upon the earthen floor and was twisting it around with his un-injured arm, letting it roll along his leg as he checked it for damage. The encroaching pallor of his face sent alarm bells ringing in D's mind. Claire was doing much of the same with her weapon, or as much as she could do without wholly taking it apart. She, however shaken, appeared fine. As such, he moved to Theo's side, watching warm umber lose its glow.

"Sounds like you laughed," the man joked, and hazel eyes flicked up to dark pools of sorrow. "Don't look at me like that. It's fine. You're safe, so I'm glad. I did my job, however minimal a part I played…which is more than I can say for some."

"But—"

"It's not fair?" A smile cracked his face. "This is something you've seen before…Tell me, has any of this been fair since the world fell apart?"

"No."

"Good to see you have some sense. Not that you should have to at your age, but here we are. Listen, rather than drag me along and run the risk of getting caught, use what's left of what's pouring out of me anyway to sustain you. You're a vampire or something, right?" He paused to take in a steadying breath but did not allow for an interruption. "Makes sense…explains why everyone else seemed so keen on escape via that plane. At any rate, you kids are going to be the only two running, and I doubt I'll be as lucky as the guy with the missing leg."

"No!"

"Hey," Theo beckoned the boy closer, who did take a few cautious steps forward. The man extended his generally unharmed hat towards the youth. "I saw you looking at this. Take it. I think it would look nice on you…even if it doesn't fit completely."

"I'm the reason you're in this condition in the first place," D lamented. "I can't."

"Yes, you can. I know you were busy trying to save everyone, but the one who nailed me was gunning for you—since you know—you were making yourself quite the target. Why else would that big guy you called father kill any of them? And remember, I signed up for this. Protecting you is my job right now, even if we weren't 'assigned' to the same bullshit grouping. Stop putting the weight of the world on your shoulders. That's our job." He laughed, coughed, and waved off D's attempt to offer up his canteen. "Just regular phlegm. Anyway, I'm not ashamed or sad to have done something with my life that I can be proud of."

"But you could live? There's a chance—I want to do something to thank you." Desperation and distress tinged D's next words. "I wanted to get to know you better…"

Theo shrugged with his good arm even as his body took to shivering. The adrenaline was wearing off, and shock was beginning to set its claws into him. "Eh, I was boring anyway. Just some office guy with a penchant for going to the gym. Those airplane nuts were far more interesting. But please, if you want to thank me, honor my request. You and Claire have to make it—to wherever you feel safest."

"Shut up," Claire stated finally, slinging her rifle to her back again. "Maybe you will die, but that doesn't mean we're going to leave you alone here. We'll do whatever we can to help because it's what Bakura would do. Right, D?"

"Right." D took the hat from the man's grasp. His expression returned to its stoic default, but he could not hide the relief in the shine of his eyes. "I'll only accept this as payment for an attempted rescue."

"You guys…"

"We have to stick together to survive," Claire grumbled as the two youngest began the process of their best-guess doctoring. "You are able to hold this whole conversation…so you're not at 'death's door' yet. And I don't know if you noticed but D holds onto heat like a…well not at all."

"Sheer brilliance," D murmured, pulling out their emergency supply of bandages.

"Shut up, Mr. I'm-gonna-practically-give-up-on-you-so-easy-just-because-you-asked-me-to."

"What a mouthful of a last name," Theo mustered before exhaustion and blood loss forced him to drop his brave face.

They tended to him as best as they could (better prepared than they had once been in a certain town in the mountains with their recent education) and were even lucky enough to find a pair of wheeled pallets to tie together and create a makeshift bed to drag the man along. By the time they finished their tasks it was nearly noon, and the children were inching closer to having been awake for 24 hours. However, while everyone in their company felt the drain, the experiences of mere hours before kept them awake and on their toes. They gathered what supplies had been abandoned at the accosted site and backtracked out of the city in record time.

"Why are we going this way?" Theo asked through gritted teeth. Out of his peripheral, D noted that the man was trying to pull himself to a semi-seated position. It must have been terrible, the boy thought, to know that one was naturally in place to be in charge and unable to do a thing about the situation. Claire looked back at the man with concern and clicked her tongue in reproach. D felt a flicker of amusement as she pressed a finger to her lips before turning back to watch the way ahead.

"It's not safe the other way," D responded, feeling the man deserved some answer if not simply to keep the peace at present. Adult or not, his stubbornness might cause him to hurt himself otherwise. His curiosity could be entertained for a time. "With simple inference and based on what information we currently have it would seem the vampires of this realm are forging ahead to take over the area between the deeper country and the coastline. I don't know their purpose, but why else would so many be around? Why would they be working on the beginnings of a massive construction effort? My father, himself, present at that. They either had to come by boat, or he had to pull his own strings to obtain swifter travel here."

'And they are using electricity,' he thought to himself. 'That must have been what I felt up there.' How they were doing it, he also had little idea; but it was his father's work, so he supposed he should not have been surprised.

"So…"

"We're going to try and reconnect with Bakura's group."

"Oh…why is that your choice?"

"Because," D continued with less generosity, "based on this random encounter, I don't believe my father knows where he is. Now that I can look back at it objectively, I don't think he even expected to find me. He just saved me out of instinct…because I'm his greatest success. So far." He chuckled. "I feel terribly for any of my siblings that have survived—not that I know them. I wonder if I will ever feel that deserted by someone who used to think so highly of me."

"I see. Want to tell me a little more about this interaction with your 'father'? I feel a little bit, well, majorly out of the loop here and I feel like I wouldn't be the only one."

"Another time. For now, sleep."

He glanced at Claire who had been glaring daggers at him and offered her one of his small smiles. She stubbornly retained her disapproval for a few beats before her face relaxed and returned his gesture with a toothy grin. Side-stepping enough to bump her head against his shoulder in an almost cat-like gesture, Claire remained close at his side as they pulled the injured along. They had a long day ahead of them.

This time they did rest in the smaller (empty) town they had passed previously, and the children hunted for their meals to preserve the pre-packaged food a little while longer. What they gathered amounted to a small feast of two slight rabbits and a carefully assessed plucking of remnant edible plant-life (and an unfortunate dealing with a horned viper that was killed out of sheer surprise). It was enough to sustain them and have all three wandering souls fall into their respective fitful sleep. The fire burned hot to ensure those most affected would be safe from the chill that clung to the air and D remained the one closest to waking as midday turned to night. Half in part of his nature, and half in part of his fears of slipping back into that inconceivable land. Every time he felt his body dip towards that ever so necessary REM sleep, he could feel something akin to hands grasping at him, coaxing him down lower and lower. For once he was grateful that he was not human; with such little sleep he was certain that he would have been utterly useless to the others.

The boy cracked one scrutinizing eye open when he felt the presence of sunlight fade and let out a soft sigh of blended annoyance and relief. He shook Claire awake. Her hair stuck against her cheek in a mix of pressure and drool, and she grumbled as she stood, smacking his prodding hand away. Yet, much like when things had become serious in the town where their first separation with Bakura occurred, she said nothing against necessity and pushed forward. When it was safer to, she would complain, but no sooner.

Together they moved the man back on the joined pallets, with Claire following D's instruction so that the boy could hoist the man with the very blanket he slept in. The pair let out a breath of relief in unison, grateful that the man had not awakened. A soft snore signified he lived, and this was good enough. Each taking a rope, they wheeled onward on the highway road. Eventually they would have to move off the paved track to cut across to their destination, but for now it was the best way for the injured man to remain at rest.

"He won't be there," Claire said, her voiced a hushed whisper so as not to wake the sleeping man.

D shook his head. "We'll go almost all the way back. I'll sneak in and listen for gossip. Whatever clues I get, we take that and run with it."

"Do you think Theo's going to make it?"

"I don't know. I hope."

"Are you okay?"

D adjusted the hat on his head and burrowed his face into his scarf. He had not wanted to say anything, but the man's offer had had its appeal. As it was, he had simply drained the bulk of their previous dinner with discrete cuts and accepted that would be his norm for now. "Fine."

"Whacha thinkin'?"

"…"

Claire halted but allowed their makeshift cart to continue to roll. D reflexively caught the hurrying contraption with his foot. The man aboard remained unaware of the sudden break for the way the boy eased it all to a stop. D glared at the girl and she glared right back.

"You talk a lot to him and then refuse to talk to me? I don't think so. What is on your mind? We just saw big and scary in front of us, and then we go into that nasty nightmare world. There's no way you're thinking of nothing."

D frowned. "So, you choose to do that?"

Claire offered him a self-absorbed shrug. "I knew you'd catch him, and I'd catch your attention. Spit it out."

"Humans are resilient," D replied, beginning to pull on the rope again. Claire followed suit, satisfied he was talking again. "I think that their—your—time is not done, just that everyone is going to hit a bump in the road."

"A major bump."

"Yes," he agreed. "But their—your—method of survival is sustainable if applied correctly…and you adapt to changes so well."

"I don't think pulling fuzzy monsters out of your ass is considered an adaptation."

D failed in holding back a snort of laughter. "It was…unexpected."

"So was spooky dreamland. But continue."

"I think vampires are going to win this first battle. Look at how my father has everyone working together, even if there's some dissention in his ranks. Compared to that, everyone else seems to be devolving into small pockets, and therefore easy pickings. But I don't think they're going to win the whole thing. Vampires…the way that I've seen, that is, their way of life is not sustainable based on the way they act. Which is odd because they've had centuries to consider their impact and what could undo them. Their domineering course based on how lenient my father is on how they all get to act…It just doesn't make sense. I thought he was smarter than that."

"Because even if, what, we're seen as cows in the end and herded around, we can still break down the fences?"

D shrugged. "I don't know. I just don't like that everyone who is trying to get along, humans and vampires alike, are getting screwed over."

"Oh, good. For a second I thought you were still whining about how you were a monster still."

"I'm not wholly human."

"Listen. For as long as I live—and sure, that's not as long as you will, but whatever—you won't be a monster to me."

"Or to Bakura-sama," the boy said with a tight smile.

"Exactly. And I'll repeat it 'til I'm blue in the face. Try me. Anyway, let's go find 'Bakura-sama' and live as happy as we can, for as long as we can."

"He said he was going to take us home," D murmured. He pulled his scarf over his mouth and unexpectedly felt a little cool that all one would be able to see was his eyes.

"Cool…I don't know where that is. My last home was by a church."

"I know."

"Yeah, you know. You jerk."

"I don't care where it is," D said after they shared a few giggles regarding their first meeting. "So long as we can be happy."

"Be happy, have our friends, and not have to worry about being attacked…"

"No worries about food."

"Or where to take a bath."

"Or if we're going to leave something behind."

"Just happiness forever!" Claire exclaimed and immediately ducked in apology as the sleeping man stirred for a second.

"Yeah," D replied with the appropriate volume level. "Those are some high hopes."

"I'll still hope for them," the girl countered. "Even getting two of those things sounds perfect right now."

"A nice break would suffice."

"Uh huh," she intoned derisively. "More than two days or so would be great."

"At least a month."

"Only a month? If you're gonna dream big, do it right, Two months."

"Okay. Two months."

"At least."

Bakura's group—while the dawning of the other's unfortunate experience remained a far-flung unexpected event—spent early days and late nights rushing through their work while being as effective and efficient as possible. The first day had went by without anyone asking awkward questions, and the trio had been too exhausted to entertain them even if there had been. All three had went back to their rooms, wondering how long it would take for those around them to catch on that there were people missing—or until the others showed up.

The second day, Bakura noticed that Jounochi kept glancing his way as they exited the hotel and granted him a big smile. It would seem that his friend needed reassurance after the discussion they had had right after Mai's group had departed.

Jounochi had been staring at him then as well, only his attention had been a bit divided between what troubled him and Mai's recent absence. Bakura had finally lowered his hand after waving off the rest of his brood for the second time (as now he felt Amami had joined the ranks) and had been contemplating the empty space without so much as a muscle shift in his features. He had then turned to his friend, and his confident smile and positive attitude had abated when he saw the one who watched him with such interest—or scrutiny.

"That wasn't the plan, was it?" he had asked the blonde; the words stated in such a way that it was hard to tell if it were truly a question, or a statement in disguise.

Albert, the odd man out, had perked up at the question and now watched the pair as intently as Jounochi had been watching Bakura.

Jounochi had sighed then. "No. When did you figure that out?"

"The clues were kind of blatant," Bakura had noted good-naturedly.

"Ah."

"Ah, indeed. But I think I understand."

"It was to protect everyone," Jounochi had blurted as if no, Bakura did not understand at all. "By splitting everyone up…it would make it harder to follow previous rumors, or to be as affected by whatever tie Kaiba has to that bastard. And since you can be stealthy, it made sense for why you'd be the one we had to leave behind for a little while. You could catch up the fastest because you wouldn't have anyone to focus on but you or need to protect anyone other than yourself."

"Hm. Well, if you believe that, then maybe you should have gone with them. D's the most obvious target now and protecting the children should always be our top priority."

Jounochi had looked to him, to where the third group had exited the scene, and his body had seemed to jump forward then backwards in quick succession.

"It's too late now," Bakura had said with a chuckle. "Mai made her choice, and she had her right in doing so. Do you want to run off and question her now, after the fact, and make us look like liars to this fine town? Let's focus on clearing our debt and making sure we get moving after we see how the tide shifts."

"You certainly take getting backstabbed well," Albert had interjected. "For what it's worth, I was as much in the dark about all of this as you were."

"I know," Bakura had replied, ignoring the backstabbing comment. "There was probably a 'reason' for that, too. It's also no fault of Jounochi's for going with a plan that on the surface made sense. There are no good solutions when we stand in vampire country. For why else would his main fortress be located so close by?"

"Well, now what?" Albert had asked, flinging his hands in a helpless gesture to the sky. Jounochi turned his attentions once more to the place the last departure had taken place, his face screwed up with something that had eaten at him at the time.

"For now," he had said, his smile returning, as calm and fake as D had known it to be, "we pay our debt and watch. There's no point in wishing we had made different choices. We'd just be wasting our time."

And what he had said had been true. There was no point on changing the plan now or worrying further about it. They just had to trust whatever crazy scheme that had been concocted behind some of their backs, and Bakura found little point in getting mad about his situation (irritation was allowed) or how the new developments changed them. The fact was they had to be adaptable.

In the dim of the dawn of that second day, Jounochi had smiled back at him before joining the minor migration of workers on their way to the docks. He was learning quickly how to be a decent fisherman.

The late afternoon tinted the world in a golden light, and the scent of early dinner preparation made Bakura's stomach growl. He had foregone lunch in order to work a double shift, intent on finalizing their "accounts" as quickly as possible. Currently, he was busying himself with clearing leaves from the roof and gutters of a recently relegated general store and was proud to say that throughout the process he had learned thank you, please, roof, leaves, and door in yet another new language. He figured before they left, he wanted to feel comfortable with at least five more words. While immersion helped a little when one knew some rules, it was admittedly harder when everything came as brand-new information. He sighed, pulled a mass of rotting sludge from a stubborn angle, and imagined being able to hold somewhat of a conversation to a surprised D the next time they met. He wondered if the boy would be pleased. He wondered if they would be apart that long.

It was then that she came.

"Where is the boy?" The fisherman's wife asked, procuring a parcel from a deep pocket sewn into the side of her skirt. They had learned late last night that while the man D had spoken to was bilingual in a few ways unhelpful to them, his wife was quite the polyglot. Bakura steadied himself with one hand against the roofing and gave her a small wave and tentative greeting. The woman grinned, congratulated him on a fine attempt, and continued. "I have a gift for him. While you went to begin working off your 'debt' the morning that boy had been asking for ways to pay off those who were supplying you, he had helped me with a few things around the shop. He's a diligent one, that child. And well-mannered, if a little quiet."

"Thank you," Bakura said, accepting the gift when she pressed the hard rectangle into his palm. "He's gone on ahead with the others, but I'll be sure to give this to him. I'm sure you noticed their absence."

"I thought so," she replied, clicking her tongue. "I told my husband you weren't sure things. There's a haunted look in your eyes if I can be frank, which is something he doesn't see easily."

"Oh?"

"Mhm," she affirmed. "He figured you all would end up liking it here and decide to remain. Good help is hard to come by no matter the times. It's true that you all seemed to fit right in that first night."

"If it's anything, I am very sorry we cannot stay."

"You're on the run form something, aren't you?" she asked. Bakura subconsciously held the wrapped package closer, some hidden paper within crinkling with the act.

"There's a strangeness going around," she continued. "Things we felt were stories or something from dreams cropping up like life sucking weeds. And I think you've seen it. Are running from it—from wherever you came.

"I'm sorry to say you won't outrun it here. We're a land full of folklore and our world is making it a reality."

"What…how?"

Her eyes narrowed but her smile showed the underlying goodwill about it. "There's something different about that boy. I'll say he's yours—no doubt. He spoke nothing but good things about you and looks well cared for despite the messiness of your travels. Many of his mannerisms are yours. However, he gives off the feeling of that vary same strangeness I just spoke of…" She ran her fingers through her hair and fluffed it in agitation as she went on. "The vantoase seem particularly busy these days, and there's a tale that someone survived a pricolici attack. There's been an alleged sighting of a balaur, although I've not yet seen any dragons of any sort about. I'm not sure what had your friends whispering that night we all dined together but beware of the dangerous batch I mentioned—and of course beware the moroi and strigoi. You'd know these as vampires, although there's differences between them."

"Vampires?" Bakura inquired, swallowing down a squeak that threatened to spill their secrets.

"Oh yes. The tales that got many tourists to come to our lovely cities. That and our history of course! Bot of all that I mentioned, those are real—without question. But I think you know that. You seem quick enough."

"And can you handle them? This town?"

"But of course. Our memories are long and our stories longer, Bakura," she said with a strange inflection to his name, "they would have to forcibly make us forget the ways to defeat them. And how does one steal such tales from the living?"

'Experimentation and repression,' he considered in reflex, but said nothing. It seemed almost like a conspiracy theory—and bad luck to repeat it aloud on top of that.

"I'll be sure he gets it," Bakura said, changing the subject. He tucked the item against his side with casual grace. The woman before him did not need to know that this had been the product of months of training with a weapon, or that even just that day he had managed to trip over his own two feet on his way to this very job. Let him look capable and charismatic. It would set both their minds at ease for the departure ahead.

"Thank you. Now, when you and your remaining friends go…be safe. I know you'll probably roll out like the mist, just like the way you all came to us. But should you change your mind, you'd be welcome into the fold of our family. Go with God and may you all be blessed on your journey."

Another day dawned with their promises fulfilled by midday. The remaining three were surprised by the lack of any newcomers (although they finally understood what they had been told was their own odd appearance), and there was no proper news aside from a rumor shared by one of their amused employers that warned of a vantoase guiding a storm towards the city with a vicious wind. With such an absence of updates, it appeared that the vampires had gotten lost, attacked, or had just deemed them unimportant to their cause. The last choice Bakura considered optimal as he dined on the blandest fish he had ever tasted.

"Heard of salt, Albert?"

"I tried!" came the sour reply.

"Really, though," Jounochi ribbed, "I don't know how you managed to get something that tastes fine on its own to taste like paper."

"You do it next time, then…"

"We all have our strengths," Bakura snickered and took another bite of his lunch.

"My job has always been around keeping things on track," Albert grumbled. "Which reminds me, we're done, right? Based on the schedules that were previously set up, our accounts should be squared. Now whatever we do will be on us."

"And no one's shown up yet," Jounochi added. "I'll take that as a good sign."

"Maybe that means we're clear?"

"If so, our travels might actually be nice for once."

"Te îmbeţi cu apă rece," Bakura recited at the pair before jabbing the stick that had skewered his fish into the ground beside him.

"What does that mean?"

"It means something along the lines of don't fool yourself. As for the literal meaning…I forgot."

Albert frowned. "Here I thought I was pessimistic."

"That was a cool attempt though," Jounochi said, laughing. "You're picking up on that quick."

Bakura shook his head. "I'm not. Just parroting for now. Hopefully, the next place we go will be as friendly and welcoming as these people are. I wasn't trying to be pessimistic or a jerk or anything, but if we listen to the chatter we do understand, it's clear our path is going to be a hard one."

"Why's that?"

"Snow is on the way for one," Bakura said, counting off on his fingers. "Then we have the possibility of meeting up with our former 'fellow passengers'. Of course, that's not even counting the other vampires that are sure to be around here."

"Should we warn these people?" Jounochi asked.

"I think they're warned enough," Bakura replied, staring hard at the butt-end of his skewer. "Although it wouldn't kill us to be honest." He told them of his discussion with the fisherman's wife and the lighthearted climate fell to tense consideration. Jounochi folded his arms tight against his chest and looked to the sky with searching eyes. Bakura saw his own displeasure mirrored in the man's face.

"So that thing they were talking about—with the weather—"

"It could just be a rather harsh incoming snowstorm for the year, or something could really be out there."

"Greeeat," Albert complained and fell back against the concrete divide.

"Whatever we decide, let's make sure to do it before we owe anyone else," Jounochi said. He fidgeted in silence for a while jiggling his leg before mussing his hair in aggravation. "The more we stay here, the more I feel like a sitting duck!"

"That was the point, wasn't it?"

Jounochi shot Bakura a glance before leaping to his feet and storming off, his hands buried deep within his pockets. Albert stood in alarm and made to go after him, but Bakura waved at him to sit down again.

"Don't worry. Give him a moment; he just feels bad," Bakura replied.

"You sure? He looked pissed to me."

"Yes, I'm sure." Bakura ran his fingers through his own hair and reached for his bag. From it, he procured the mask that had hidden his face from sharp scrutiny and raised it to his face. "He knows I'm right, and I'm sure he realized what I was thinking too. If these people already believe in the things we experienced, we might have missed a golden opportunity to gain some allies—without splitting up. Maybe even without leaving at such an inopportune time. What's done is done, though, and he's just going to have to work through that. Do you think this will give any additional warmth? Or just be annoying?"

"No idea. This cold is still pretty foreign to me—I'm used to mild temperatures during the winter, not freezing or below."

"Mild…I swear, getting to your 'Main Street-whatever' city, I thought we were going to die of heat exhaustion."

"That's your fault. Should have checked the weather."

The pair laughed and began to clean up the area; the motions engrained. It still felt cruel to let the wind carry away a mess for others to tend to. And such a wind it was, blasting them with icy prickles that lead to goosebumps even under their protective warmth.

That night, as Bakura made his way up the stairs to their shared room, he saw Jounochi hanging out by the one window in the hallway. He stood with haggard posture, a mourner with too much to mourn. Instead of calling it an early night, Bakura bypassed their door and moved to the other side of the window. He looked past the pane of well-kept glass to the glowing cloud that hardly hid the moon in the darkness.

"That statement wasn't made to make you feel like that," Bakura began.

"Wouldn't have felt that way if it wasn't true, though," Jounochi sighed, pulling himself up from against the wall. "Thanks for letting me just think it out."

The other shrugged. "You needed some time to yourself; I know. We're friends, remember?"

"Yeah…"

"You know," Bakura said, his hand raising to touch at the place where small scars remained on his torso, "I was bitter for a long time about our friendship. It felt like all of you were so close, could do anything together, and while I always tried to fit into it, something just didn't connect. Then, being used by the one thing that I thought could fill that gap if I were careful enough—only to lose them too, with no closure, because you all handled the matter without me…" He chuckled to himself, watching Jounochi's face work as he clearly tried to figure out what to say to explain their past decisions. "And I was so mad that not one of you came after me when Bobasa said there was evil in my heart. But how could you have known what I needed, wanted, if I never made it clear? How could I blame you for being wary about me when I was being manipulated by something that I thought I had control of?"

"I thought that was a bullshit call," Jounochi blurted, which only made the other man laugh again.

Bakura stepped to his friend and placed both hands on his shoulders. "Of course, you did. Back then, there were things I kept from you, things you kept from me, things that were kept from the both of us…all in the name of protecting those we held dear. The more I think of the present, the more I think of the past."

"We haven't really changed, have we?"

Bakura shook his head. "We have, but some habits are hard to break."

"Telling me all that, it makes me wish we could have…I don't know…done things differently. It sucks that you felt so alone, and how that might have made our situation worse, just because we thought we were doing the right thing. Like now. How much worse is this going to get because we decided to get fancy with our planning, hardly taking into consideration that we'd be stronger together, no matter what?"

Cocking his head, Bakura waited eagerly for a continuation. When none came, his face softened. "We are stronger together, in the end. I haven't forgotten you guys helped me on that boat, even when it put you in danger. And even still, after all this time, I remember that you were the first one at the school to ask me to be friends."

Jounochi straightened his posture, and Bakura lowered his arms to let one rest against his own hip as he waited for the others response.

"I'm done not telling people. I think it's making things worse. I don't have to like a situation, but I shouldn't be willing to put my friends in so much danger for a maybe."

"I agree."

"Who should we tell?"

"I have a good idea as to who to begin with," Bakura said with the makings of a cunning grin.

In the end, they left with as little fanfare as any of the others, most in the town would have said. Disappeared like specters in the night—a flicker of a glow within one's peripheral before a swift fade into nonexistence. A joke regaled until it was half-believed, to where one day it was the only story that they could fully recall to a new group of wanderers dressed in rare and fine clothing. Only those who had been made aware of the dangers those people faced remembered their presence clearly, prepared their town with gentle retellings of their own country's famous legends, and that small congregation held their knowledge with tight lipped amusement to any strangers who would have asked.

Especially the woman who railed at her husband to mind his business and shooed her children out to play amongst the frigid mounds that both blessed and cursed them that winter. She who recalled sorrowful dark eyes brighten as the long-gone child spoke of his parent with adoration before his own disappearance. With her silence, she wished them safety.

She wished them comfort, wherever they hid within the snow.