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Chapter One: Nemo

Once, his father's people had had an unspoken truce with humanity: peace was kept by both sides pretending that the other didn't exist. All that had changed very soon after he was born.

His father and the rest of his kind had retreated into the darkest corners of the world and vanished from human knowledge and memory. His mother had died, bled to death, alone and disgraced.

And then there was him, the bastard son of a human and what was, essentially, a nature spirit. D'miisoh, half-blood they'd called him. He'd been left behind, straddling the border of two worlds, unable to ever be a part of either. Furthermore, because heredity is a bloody-minded bitch, he was mostly immortal. Oh, he was sure he could die, if he tried hard enough. Nothing so far had worked.

That was why Ryou (that was what he'd decided to call himself when he came to this country all those years ago) had welcomed the friendship of a vampire.

One sunny afternoon, Ryou was perched cross-legged on his sofa, cradling a cup of lemon tea in the palms of his hands. He'd fixed both the guestrooms; he'd been thinking of his vampiric friend all morning and the man in question had a habit of turning up in person not long after having appeared in Ryou's thoughts.

Ryou suspected it was precognition on his part and sheer dumb luck on his friend's.

He inhaled the steam from his tea. When he'd met his friend, it'd have to have been almost three hundred years now; the vampire had been a wreck. Contrary to the popular myth, the vampires weren't creatures of diabolic intelligence. They were sub-human, almost like rabid wolves, unable to form coherent thoughts and focused wholly on satiating a relentless blood lust. In many ways, the reality was far more frightening than the myth.

But his friend had been... different, somehow. Ryou suspected he'd been someone used to getting his own way once. Somehow, the human part of his mind had remained intact, and it had fought. He'd managed to force himself out of his bestial state and regain his sanity. Barely.

When Ryou had met him, he'd been teetering on the edge of complete oblivion. Over many weeks, Ryou had helped 'bring him out of himself', as he'd called it.

One night, after a particularly trying day, something had occurred to Ryou.

'You've never told me your name,' he'd said lightly.

His friend had sat by the window, the starlight reflected in his eyes.

'I don't remember it,' he'd said at last.

So Ryou had dubbed him Yami. It seemed fitting.

A smart rap on his door pulled him from his reminiscing. He uncoiled himself from his perch on the couch and set his cup aside. Just as he'd expected, he found Yami standing on his doorstep.

He hadn't expected to see the fragile body draped, rag doll-like, over his friend's shoulder. A groan rose in his throat and he stepped aside to admit them. Without a word, Yami, without a word, headed upstairs to the guestroom, Ryou following close behind.

'You let yourself lose control again, didn't you,' he said, slumping bonelessly against the doorframe.

Yami didn't answer, didn't need to. He was tucking the little figure into the bed. Ryou peered over his shoulder at the unconscious boy's face.

'Yami!' he wailed. 'He's a baby!'

'He's seventeen,' said Yami. The defensiveness in his tone was contradicted when he sank onto the bed and lowered his face into his hands. 'His wallet was in his jacket pocket. I found his student card.'

Ryou pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Compared to them, the boy was a baby; he was a formidable five hundred and twenty-seven years old, and neither of them was sure of how old Yami was. When pressed, Yami would give his age as 'probably more than a thousand years'. More importantly, when the boy awoke, he'd be a ravening, half-crazed creature of the night. Resignedly, Ryou made a note to put anything breakable in his attic where the boy couldn't get at them.

'Alright,' he said at last. Yami raised his head from his hands. 'So you've bitten a child,' Ryou ignored Yami's glare. 'Has he woken up at all?'

'Once,' said Yami shortly. He stood and leant over the boy, brushing back a strand of hair to reveal a large yellowing bruise on his temple. 'I had to knock him out to get him here.'

Ryou cuffed him over the head, hard.

'He bit me!' Yami protested, rolling up his sleeve. Several deep cuts, still slowly bleeding, stood out against the pale skin.

'That's no excuse,' Ryou told him firmly. He paused for a moment before continuing. 'You'll both stay here, at least until he's sane again. I have a friend who works down at the hospital. She'll be able to get some blood for him.'

Ryou led the way out of the room, locking the door behind them.

'How are you getting her to do that?' Yami asked him incredulously.

'I told her the truth,' said Ryou flatly. 'Occasionally that works.'

'Only if the person you're telling has a reason to believe you,' countered Yami.

'She does,' Ryou said. 'She tried to perform a Summoning when she was a teenager.'

Yami winced in spite of himself. Ryou nodded soberly.

'Yes. She's lucky I was the one that turned up and not someone like... well, someone else.'

They had reached Ryou's meticulously clean kitchen. Yami slouched into a chair while Ryou filled the kettle.

'So, how long do you plan to stay this time?' he asked conversationally.

Yami shrugged. 'It was only going to be a flying visit. Places to go, people to see... that sort of thing.'

'You're leaving the kid with me, aren't you,' Ryou didn't turn around. Yami didn't reply. 'You can't do that.'

'Why not?' demanded Yami defiantly. 'It wouldn't be the first time-'

'Yes, and look what happened to all of them!'

'-and you're always saying how lonely you are!'

'Then why don't you stay too? At least you can hold a conversation.'

'... I have things to do, didn't I already say that?'

Ryou thrust a teacup at him savagely, barely avoiding scalding him.

'You don't have things to do. You're being a coward.'

Apparently, he'd struck a nerve. Yami didn't reply instead opting to glare, tight lipped, at the wall beside him. With a soft noise of resignation, Ryou folded himself onto the chair opposite his friend.

'I understand what you're afraid of,' he said after a moment, watching Yami's profile for any reaction.

'I am not afraid -'

'Even so,' Ryou ploughed on, raising his voice over Yami's protest. 'Even so, I'm not letting you leave. You'll stay, and you'll see this through. You have to, for his sake and mine. And yours,' he added, almost as an afterthought.

'"For his sake"? What the hell does that mean? You do remember Lillith, don't you?'

'This isn't Lillith,' snapped Ryou, resting his forehead against the palm of his hand. 'And you're supposed to have grown since then. You're staying.'

'You think you can keep me here?'

'No. You can't run from me, though, remember?'

Yami was silent again. 'For a moment,' he said finally, 'you sounded an awful lot like someone else I know... I can't seem to get rid of him, either.'

Ryou grinned faintly. 'He'd be offended if he knew you were comparing me to him. Be glad he's not turning up for another three days-'

'He's coming here?' Yami groaned. 'Ryou, I thought you trying to make me stay.'

An editted version of Chapter One, because I really don't know any better.

Chapter title belongs to Nightwish.