A/N: The response to the teaser has been so encouraging! It took me a little longer to get this out than I'd hoped, as I was working on other projects, but thanks for being here when I finally had a chance to post! I'm a huge fantasy/paranormal/supernatural fan, but this is one of the few times I've really ventured into the genre for a Richonne fic. I think this may become a trend. :) I'm itching to explore this Vampire Rick/Human Michonne dynamic and am so excited you're along for the ride!

Rick watched from backstage, as enthralled with Michonne as the crowd. She lingered on the edge of the stage, whipping her long locs in a circular motion in sync with the music of her band. One half of her head was shaved almost down to the scalp. The hairstyle was new. It suited her.

Rick had come to the show straight from his business meeting. The bumper-to-bumper traffic characteristic of the Seattle metro area had him itching to fly, but the need for discretion had outweighed his impatience. Michonne's band, Angry Black Woman, was opening their first statewide tour in the city she'd called home for the past five years.

As a successful but unremarkable contracts lawyer, Rick had the time to both manage his territory and remain close - but unconnected - to Michonne. Attending her concerts was always a risk, but this was a major event in her career that he'd refused to miss, even if she remained completely oblivious of his presence.

Michonne's best friend, Andrea, pounded on the drums with a ferocity that Rick admired. She and Michonne had met in college, where they formed the band with another girl who eventually dropped out to attend med school. The softness of her big blue eyes and cropped curly blonde hair contrasted with her bulging biceps, as she kept the beat of the punk rock melody.

Sasha, the third member of the band, played a bass guitar that was nearly half her size. A brilliant guitar player, she was more on the quiet side, spending most of her free time reading books and watching episodes of Star Trek. Rick had no clue why Daryl had inserted that last detail in his notes.

Mike, the lead guitarist and most recent band member, joined Michonne front and center. They played off of each other seamlessly, ensconced in the rhythm of their own world, as she belted out the haunting lyrics:

Filled with doubt, though she is right

So she moves, anxious but steadily

Fading now into the night

According to Daryl, who kept a close eye on Michonne while Rick traveled for clan business, the two musicians had become an item months ago, while he was attending a gathering on the East Coast. Their chemistry translated onstage, Michonne gazing into Mike's eyes as she sang and he strummed his electric guitar, their deep brown complexions shining blue in the stage lights. Michonne's skin held an ethereal glow, making Rick's fangs tingle.

The wood of the column he was holding cracked and groaned beneath his death grip. Rick took a breath, releasing the pole before he did noticeable damage. Michonne was a grown woman, free to make her own mistakes both in life and in love.

From what Rick had gleaned from his own background check, Mike's ambition made him more of a business man than an artist. He'd played for a number of bands before joining Angry Black Woman a little over a year ago. While Michonne was content to perform music for her fans throughout the Pacific Northwest, Mike wanted more - more money, more fame, more opportunity. Whether Michonne had picked up on that - or had simply chosen to ignore it - Rick was unsure.

Their duet ended in a screeching crescendo, the crowd shouting its admiration. Michonne returned to the mic, her skin glistening with sweat:

And she ran like blood

Through the corridors of your mind

Her deep, soulful voice raised the tiny hairs on the back of his neck. He was one of the few people who knew the source of the anger and resentment in her lyrics, how much she'd had to overcome to make it this far; to make a name for herself doing the thing she loved most in the world. And how he'd almost interfered with that.

Into a bright new future

One without the likes of you

She drew out the you, ending the line with a yell, the crowd feeding off of her rage. Most people would miss the tremor in her voice, but not Rick.

He noticed everything about Michonne.

"A sold out show," Spencer interrupted Rick's thoughts, handing him an envelope stuffed with cash. The tall promoter kept his eyes glued on Michonne.

While Rick's main intention in attending the concert was to see the band perform, he was also there to take care of business. Michonne need not know what he handled for her behind the scenes.

"As promised," Rick said, thumbing through the hundred dollar bills. Before he'd inserted himself into the role of her secret manager, the band had trouble with low pay and bouncing checks. Now, they received fair pay in cash only. Rick cocked his head. "You're short eight hundred bucks."

"Are you accusing me of stiffing you?" Spencer asked. He crowded Rick, assuming his height would intimidate him.

Spencer had stirred the beast. Rick's blue eyes flashed with menace, the bloodlust rising like bile in his throat. He was dressed in a navy blue Armani suit, but if Spencer was looking for a fight, he'd be more than happy to get a little dirty. Rick could use a snack.

Unfortunately, Spencer turned out to be smarter than he thought, taking a step back in retreat. "I'm just kidding, man." He reached into his pocket, pulling out a neatly wrapped wad of cash. Handing it to Rick, he said, "I was just trying to keep you guys fair. You have no idea how much work I put into this concert. You think booking a tour for an obscure punk rock band was easy?"

"And you've been paid generously, especially considering my connections are what got you through the door in the first place."

"Either way, I worked my ass off to sell out the show. Without me this place would only be half full."

"The basic job of a promoter." Rick stared the tall man down, daring Spencer to further provoke him.

"Whatever, man," the promoter said.

"One more thing," Rick said, yanking Spencer by the shoulder to bring him closer. He leaned in, capturing the man's eyes. "Forget you ever saw me." He watched the light of recognition drain from Spencer's eyes. "Get lost." Rick would have Daryl ensure the band's pay was delivered into the proper hands.

Spencer stumbled back, shaking his head. He paused, staring at Rick with veiled hostility, before he obeyed and retreated. Enthusiastic applause filled the venue, distracting the predator in Rick from stalking after his prey.

"You rock!" Michonne waved to folks in the crowd, her softer side peeking through. "It took us five years to get here, but you all are the reason we sold this place out." Hands shot into the air, shouts and cheers filling the venue.

"Have my baby!" A male voice shouted. Rick growled, his eyes searching the crowd for the man whose life would soon take a tragic turn.

"Appreciate the offer, hon, but I'll let Mike take care of that." The screams of the women in the crowd were overwhelming. "We love you, Tacoma!"

The band exited the stage to raucous applause. Rick moved into the shadows, shielded in the darkness that enveloped him like a second skin. His preternatural stillness ensured he would go unnoticed as usual, even though he was less than ten feet away from the woman he hadn't spoken to in over twenty years.

"I wish people would just stop falling in love with me," Michonne joked, grabbing a hand towel. Rick's eyes followed the towel was she dipped it into the hollow between her breasts. Her dark t-shirt was soaked with sweat and eagerly clinging to her chest.

"Then stop wearing those tight ass jeans," Andrea teased, gulping down a bottle of water.

"It'll take a lot more than that," Sasha mumbled as she wiped down her bass guitar.

Shouts of Encore slowly built up from the crowd. Mike slipped his arm around Michonne's waist, planting a sloppy kiss on her perky lips. "Our fans await, your highness."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Michonne beamed. It'd been years since Rick had seen that smile.

Michonne grabbed Andrea's water bottle, taking a deep swig, water dripping down her chin and disappearing between her eye-catching cleavage.

Mike tapped her lightly on the butt. "Let's not keep them waiting."

Rick calculated the effort it would take to dislodge Mike's hand, which lingered on Michonne's firm backside, from his wrist permanently. Exposing himself to Michonne was the only thing stopping him. He could never interfere, only watch over her from the shadows, protecting her from the imminent threat that would arise if his rivals became aware of her existence.

Rick slipped through the backstage door and into the alley. Breathing in the crisp autumn air helped to clear his head. Being in such close proximity to Michonne put both their lives in danger, as her all-consuming presence screwed with his hyperactive senses.

Luckily, he regained his alertness just in time to notice the figure charging him from behind, sprinting through the alley at full-speed. Rick used the momentum of his attacker against him, reaching behind him to grab his assailant by the throat and flip him backwards into a dumpster, the force leaving a man-sized dent in the dumpster.

The vampire sprung to his feet, completely unfazed by the crushing blow that would have killed a mortal being. Broken bones cracked back into place as he adjusted his stance.

"How dare you enter my territory without an invitation," Rick growled, his fangs descending. He'd decapitated vampires for much smaller offenses.

Martinez smirked, his brown eyes morphing into glowing sapphire orbs. "The Governor sends his condolences."

"If the Governor wants me dead, he'll have to do better than you." Rick baited Martinez, who was known as much for his ruthless kills as he was for his short temper.

Martinez's yell echoed throughout the alley as he charged Rick full-on. As he pounced through the air, Rick was there to meet him, sinking his fangs into his assailant's throat before ripping it clean out.

Martinez collapsed, his hands grasping at the gaping hole in his neck, spilling the precious blood he'd likely consumed right before the attack. The wound would not kill the vampire, but it would set the stage nicely for Rick's interrogation.

If the Governor had really wanted Rick dead, he would have sent the only vampire who could beat him, not one of his lackeys. Martinez was just the messenger. Or a distraction.

Rick crouched in front of the Governor's left-hand man, blood seeping through the man's fingers at a rapidly decreasing pace as the wound repaired itself. Rick took a few breaths to clear the bluish tint from his vision, taking the control back from the predator. "By the time that heals, you're going to tell me the real reason you're here. Or I'll rip you open in a place that'll take a lot longer to heal."

"I can't compete with a ghost." Apparently, the man who'd abandoned Michonne all those years ago was still intruding in her life.

Michonne sat cross-legged on the bed in Mike's t-shirt. She was glad she'd at least put on underwear for this conversation. They were in the massive RV that would serve as their tour bus for the next few months, having just christened the queen bed in a tangle of limbs and sheets. Mike's gloominess was ruining her post-coital high.

Michonne almost laughed at his consistency. "Must you bring this up every time we fuck?"

Mike angrily pulled on his jeans. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something felt different; a vibe she didn't like. He squinted his eyes in controlled anger. "You mean like every time you shout another man's name in bed?" He turned away, his muscled back and tapered waist in full view. She still wanted him. She needed to make this right.

Like the other times - and there really weren't that many - an image of Rick's piercing blue eyes had come out of nowhere when she'd orgasmed with Mike's tongue lodged in the apex of her thighs. Apparently, the letter burning had purged everything but Rick's name from her mouth.

"It's just something I do. It doesn't mean anything." She sat up on her knees, moving to the edge of the bed. She wrapped her arms around him from behind, her hands playing with the springy hair covering his exquisitely firm pecs. Michonne appreciated a hairy chest. "You've been grumpier than usual lately. We're supposed to be celebrating. What's up?"

Mike's jealousy was becoming a broken record. No matter how much she assured him that he was the only one she loved, he refused to believe her. After months together, he still didn't trust her. She trailed her hand along the sculpted lines of his six pack. He grabbed her hand just before she reached the promised land. He turned to face her. "We need to talk." She disliked the gravity in his tone.

She slipped his t-shirt over her head. His eyes drifted to her bare breasts, her nipples tightening under his gaze. "Can we talk after?" she moved for his zipper, but he stilled her hands.

"This is serious, Michonne."

She grabbed the growing bulge in his crotch. Mike sucked in a sharp breath. "No more serious than my need to wrap my lips around your-"

"I'm leaving," he blurted out. He finally had her attention. "The band. I'm leaving the band."

She sat back on her haunches. "I am the band. You're leaving me." Suddenly feeling vulnerable in her nakedness, she scooped up her strapless bra, slipping it on in one swift movement.

Mike grabbed his t-shirt and yanked it on. "Yes, I'm leaving you." At least he had the decency to look her in the eye. "I can't do this any longer. I need more."

Michonne crossed her arms over her chest. "Need more what? Money? This tour is our big break. All that is coming. You just have to be patient."

"I've been patient for almost a year. With my career and with you."

"So this is about us then? You'd break up the band, right before our tour, just because you don't want to be with me?" Michonne vibrated with anger, her blood heating just below the surface.

Mike took a step away from the bed, away from her. "You know things haven't been good between us for a while. And I've made arrangements for Terry to take my place on the tour. You know this is for the best."

Michonne squeezed her eyes shut. The timing was shitty, but she couldn't deny the truth in his words. This had become a pattern for her. When her partner desired intimacy, the one thing she was incapable of giving, she chose to focus on the sex and keep the distance. It worked for most men, but the ones like Mike, who actually loved her, could only take so much before they gave up on trying.

"Get the fuck out then," she said evenly. Michonne could feel the pity and regret building in her chest and wanted him long gone before the tears came. She told herself the pain in his eyes wasn't real, that he just wanted to relieve himself of the guilt of leaving them in a lurch.

If she were at all interested in being an adult, she would've exercised more tact. He cared about her and didn't deserve such a callous dismissal. But she was pissed at him and at the world in general.

Mike huffed, shaking his head. He grabbed his duffle bag and guitar case. Standing in the doorway of the cramped space, he said, "I wish things could have been-"

Mike's words caught in his throat as a bloody hand burst through his chest.

"Mike!" Michonne screamed, her face splattered with his warm blood.

"Michonne," he said, blood gurgling in his throat and dripping from the side of his mouth. She watched in horror as the life drifted from his wide eyes.

The hand in his chest disappeared and Mike crumpled to the floor, his body devoid of all life. The woman who stood in his place, drenched with Mike's blood up to her forearm, had the palest skin Michonne had ever seen, almost to the point of translucence.

Her pale blue eyes scanned Michonne's partially naked form. "This is it?"

Michonne was trapped, the woman blocking the only exit from the tiny room. To her surprise, in place of fear, she felt blinding anger. As she watched a pool of blood grow beneath Mike's lifeless body, the blood in her veins literally boiled. "Who the fuck are you?"

The woman cocked her head to the side. "I'm impressed." She pushed Mike's corpse aside with her foot, creeping further into the room. "I thought you'd at least beg for your life." She stepped onto the bed, her high-heeled, leather boots leaving bloody footprints.

Michonne pressed her back against the headboard, with nowhere to go. She was pissed, but she was helpless, with no way to defend herself from this psycho. "Why did you kill Mike? How did you-" The horrific image was burned into her brain.

The woman sniffed the air. "What is that scent?" She smiled, revealing a set of sharp fangs. "Is that you?"

The last of Michonne's courage dissolved in the face of those fangs. This wasn't a woman at all - it was a monster. "Vampire?" she gasped.

The creature knelt before her, blue swirling in her sinisterly pale eyes. Michonne pressed further into the headboard, completely at her mercy. "Please, don't hurt me."

The vampire sniffed at Michonne's neck. "That smell. Sweet and…" She buried her nose in the crook of her neck. "Spicy. No wonder Rick's obsessed with you."

"Rick?" Michonne gaped. Adrenaline surged through her veins at the mention of the person she hated most in this world.

"May as well see what all the fuss is about," the vampire said. Michonne whimpered as sharp fangs pierced her neck.

"No!" she yelled, her body completely paralyzed with fear as the woman sucked at the blood trickling from her neck.

Michonne's eyes drifted to Mike, a tingling sensation growing in her belly. She summoned the last of her strength, pushing the vampire off of her with enough force to send it flying across the bed and into the wall.

The vampire hissed and screeched. Kneeling on all fours, she looked ready to pounce. "You're gonna pay for that." But before she could make a move, she clawed at her throat. "It burns!" she screeched in pain.

All Michonne could do was watch as a hole burned through the creature's throat, as though a fire had been lit from within. Her eyes widened in terror as the rest of the vampire's body followed, her body disintegrating into a pile of white ash.

"Michonne!" The sound of someone yelling her name pulled her out of the haze of shock.

In the doorway, stood the ghost who'd haunted her these past twenty years. Except now he was in the flesh - and in her bedroom.

"Rick."

All Michonne could see was red.

Rick was no stranger to the extraordinary. He'd encountered the mystical both before and after his life as a vampire. But the oddness of this scene was a first for him.

Mike's corpse in a pool of cold blood. A pile of white ash and black leather. And a woman who looked like Michonne, the shaved part of head now a blood red that matched the scarlet of her murderous eyes. In a white lace bra and panties, she oozed a dangerous aura that was far from the Michonne he knew.

"It's me, Michonne," Rick said calmly, wanting to give her as little of a reason to attack as possible. "It's Rick."

From the snarl she emitted, he wasn't sure if her recognition of him was working to his advantage. She tracked him with predatory eyes as he eased deeper into the tight space, the odor of singed flesh and metallic blood assaulting his hyperactive sense of smell.

Rick held up his hands in surrender. "I'm here to help." Actually, he was there to save her, but maybe he was more in need of saving at this point. If the Governor had known how powerful she truly was, he'd have sent an entire army after her.

Michonne adjusted her position. She would strike, but he'd be ready to subdue her. The shrill ringing of a cell phone broke the tension, playing an Angry Black Woman melody he recognized. It was a raw, angry ballad that he'd suspected Michonne had written about him. He'd planned on using the distraction to catch her off guard, but instead the music flipped some sort of switch inside of Michonne, the red draining from her eyes, replaced by the deep brown he found so captivating.

When she collapsed he was there, catching her in his arms. "I'm here, Michonne," he whispered, caressing her hair, the rich black of her locs contrasting with the shock of red that remained. "And I'm never leaving you again."

A/N: Welcome to the world of Richonne, vampires and so much more! Thanks for taking an interest in this supernatural fic. The lyrics are from Tamar-Kali's song, Pearl. I plan on updating this often, so the chapters will be on the shorter side. Michonne is almost as much a mystery to vampire Rick as she is to us. Hope you stick around to uncover the truth behind her powers. As always, many thanks for the follows, faves and reviews!