Disclaimer: Still don't own 'em….if I did, I'd have lots of money, and wouldn't have to work at Pizza Hut. X.x

Warning: Have I mentioned its yaoi? Oh..and if youre looking for NagiOmi, its not here. ^___^;

Chapter 2

He woke up late Sunday afternoon. Funny, he couldn't remember going to bed on Saturday nite...or Friday nite, for that matter. He had no more than a vague recollection of being sent to the store on Friday nite, and dragging himself out of bed early Saturday morning long enough to pull tight the heavy drapes over his window.

That, and a bizarre dream...one of meeting with two members of Schwarz. But that was silly, wasn't it? He knew that he'd never really be able to safely get away from Schwarz whilst alone and unarmed. Besides, they had been-at least, Nagi had been-vampires. And everyone knew that vampires only existed in stories and movies. And didn't vampires hate the sunlite? Omi could distinctly remember seeing them out in the sun before, though, at the moment, he wasn't too fond of the over-bright natural light himself.

A quick glance at his watch confirmed that it was indeed Sunday, and about an hour before Youji and Ken should be closing up shop. Omi remembered nothing of the last day and a half, but he remembered conning Ken into taking both his Saturday and Sunday shifts. Slowly he pulled himself out of bed and into the shower. Rather than his usual quick, perfunctory cleaning, Omi opted to allow the water to run over his body for sever still minutes, restoring some of the lost warmth. He sighed peacefully as the warm water heated his cool flesh. Where had his weekend gone? What had happened? All he could remember was going to the store for Ken, then the strange dream about Schwarz.

But then...hadn't he met up with Schwarz before getting home? He could have sworn... Ok, so maybe Schwarz had accosted him. But the whole vampire thing? Highly unlikely. Omi was a believer in logic; anything that could not be physically proven was ground for doubt.

Once sufficiently clean and relaxed, Omi got out and got dressed. Slowly he made his way down to he Koneko to watch ken and Youji cleaning up.

"Ya, Omittchi! Get enough sleep?'

"Hai, sankyuu, Youji-kun," the boy removed Youji's sunglasses and placed them on his own face, trying not to squint at the light that still filtered in through the open shop windows. "Ne, ken-kun, do you know what happened Friday nite? All I can remember is going to the store for you, then waking up this afternoon..."

Ken looked up from organizing the books for the nite, "You don't know? You brought my stuff back-an hour late, mind you-and said you were tired, so you went right to bed. You were really pale and sleepy-looking. I tried to wake you up several times yesterday, but it was like you were dead or something."

The youngest frowned, racking his still-fuzzy mind, "Datte, I feel fine, except for being a little drained..."

"Speaking of being 'drained', how did you get the hickey on your neck, Bishounen?" Youji leered. "Finally get some?"

"The...?"

The bell above the door jingled, "Mission."

~*~

Degrading. That was the only word he could think of to describe the situation he was in. Tight
purple pleather pants hugged his legs, topped by a tummy-baring black shirt that read 'bad
kitty' across the front in little rhinestones. The studded belt slung loosely around one hip
reminded him of the hero in one of his video games, and the mid-calf lace-up black boots
threatened to make him topple off their three inch heels.

Branching out from one kohl-lined eye and dancing across the left side of his face ran an
intricate design, which had been drawn on by Aya's surprisingly skilled hand. The last time he
had been bait in a club he had let Ken dress him; this time, Youji. Next time, maybe he should
trust his clothes to Manx.

Uncomfortable as he was, Omi fit in easily. He loved dancing, and obliged anyone who pressed
against him. At one point, while pressed between two girls who seemed to be more interested in
each other than in him, Aya's voice came over the tiny speaker in his ear, "Bombay, dou da?"

"Ah, shitsurei, Umiko-san, Hikari-san," he wiggled his way through the crowd to the bathroom,

"Hai, Abyssinian. Nothing yet. What about you guys?"

"Siberian and Balinese in place. The target is at the bar."

Omi checked himself in the mirror, brushing a few silver-streaked stands from his face, "Ok,
yosh. Bombay, go." He slipped back into the main room and went straight to the bar, "Target in
sight, Mission go." he sidled up to the lone woman at the bar, slipping into the seat next to
hers, "Konbonwa."


The woman looked him over, black eyes carefully scrutinizing every inch. "Konbonwa. Hitori?"

"Boku wa itsu datte hitori saa...buy me a drink, oneesama?" he repeated his practiced lines
perfectly, feeling a small pang at the memory of using that line before. He blinked big blue
eyes up at her, using his best combination of childish innocence and a sexy smoulder.

"Sou. Bartender, a Budweiser for my little...friend." the woman was all enough known that no one
carded her little 'friends'.

Omi pretended to sip from the proffered beer, yawning lightly, "Sankyuu, Oneesama."

"'Oneesama' janai yo. 'Sakaki' wa ii."

He fought back a shudder as the woman traced the outside seam of his pants, 'Hai, Sakaki-san."

She laughed at his 'innocence'. "You're terribly cute. Ne, what are you doing tonite, boya?"

Omi blushed prettily, "Depends...did you have something in mind?"

All lights in the club shut off, and a cry rose from the crowd. Next to him there was a
strangled cry, then a thump ringing of finality. "Sakaki-san?"

"Na, Bishounen, you should thank me. I got the hit for you."

And once more he felt the still-tender flesh of his neck being torn into. Omi struggled, but
strong arms held him in place. A soft voice whispered nothing into his mind as he felt his
energy, as well as his blood, being slowly drained from his body. "Ya...yamete..." voices
floated from all around him, but two stuck out in his mind.

"Nagi...Nagi! He's done, let him go!"

The pressure on his neck let off, but he was still not released. "Then do it, hurry! I can't keep
the whole crowd back for much longer."

He was jostled around a bit, being passed into a new set of arms, "Here, drink."

Warm fluid dripped onto his lips, followed be the warm press of flesh. He opened his mouth a
fraction, allowing it to spill in. It was warm and salty-sweet, and a bit metallic. Years of
assassin experience placed the taste as blood, but his empty body cried to replace what it had
lost. He latched onto the wrist offered him, feeble swallowing giving way to needy suckling.
Drums pounded in his ears, tattooing a beat on his brain.

No, not a drum...a heartbeat. His heartbeat, pumping rapidly, struggling to keep him alive.
Stronger and stronger, until he thought surely it would beat out of his chest. And then, when he
could no longer take it, but drank anyway, the wrist was pulled away and warm lips were again
pressed to his.

He was hot, so hot; his whole body was on fire. Fire coursed through his veins along with the
new blood, making him feel that he would explode. He was quickly jostled into the bathroom
which, with just one look from the tall redhead, quickly cleared out. They sat him on the sink
counter, propping him up against the mirror. "Boku...atsui..."

Nagi leaned heavily against the wall, exhausted from using his powers for so long, "So that's how
it's done? Does he have a power now? When will it show?"

"Shh, give him time, he's not done yet," they watched as the subtle differences slowly washed
over Omi; already smooth skin becoming pale porcelain, tiny fangs protruding over parted,
panting lips. The boy's face was pale but highly flushed, not a normality in Schuldich's limited
experience. "Oi, Bishounen, you ok? You don't look too good."

"So...so hot..." Omi's body exploded with the raging heat inside, and a loud whimper escaped his
lips.

Alarms blared.

Schuldich raped the minds of the club-goers, searching for the reason as to why. "...There's a
fire. It just started, out of nowhere."

"Boku...hen na...Nagi...Nagi's fault...Nagi's fault...Nagi's fault..."

They watched as the boy's fevered mumblings became chant, repeating the same words over and over. "Schu? What's he doing? Why does he keep saying that?" Nagi was starting to feel rather warm himself, as if he were already close to the intense flame that burned just outside the
door. "Schu...Schu, I don't feel so good..." he staggered to where Omi was glaring at him
menacingly through hazy eyes. "Omi...Omi, don't hate me." he reached out a hand to comfort the
older boy, but when he touched the smooth skin of the boys arm the soft velvet outfit that had
taken the place of his usual blue-grey uniform for the nite burst into flames.

"Your fault..."

"Shit! Nagi!" the redhead removed his ever-present green coat and wrapped it around the boy's
body, smothering the flames.

"Your fault, your fault, your--"

Schuldich overloaded Omi's mental circuits, abruptly putting a stop to the mantra and knocking
the boy unconscious. "Here, keep my jacket for now. We gotta get outta here. Can you walk?" he
lifted the Weiß boy over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. "You'd better be damned grateful,
kid. I got Tsukiyono for you *and* saved your ass from burning to death. You owe me now."

Nagi frowned, clutching the jacket close to his body, "But...he hates me now..."

Ok, so incase you havent figured it out yet…the Schwarz-y bois are vampires. Now so is Omi. I shall explain all the fire…soon. ^___^