Sorry for the delay, but here it is! I will try to update more often once playoffs are done and over with. Thank you for being so patient!

Dull sunlight danced around the room; lightened particles were seen in the open rays as they swirled within the air, dancing. Dark clouds were being observed by pale violet eyes in wonder. Those eyes knew that rain was coming, it always comes in England. The tall figure stood there and waited; attention captured by the weather than the accented voice speaking. The other person in the room was slowly getting angry as he was ranting and motioning to objects that needed to be moved to one of the guest rooms. "Are you even listening?" growled the albino.

"Ohh," expressed the moonlit kissed hair.

Red eyes rolled unamused, "Mott God Ivan!" A pale fist slammed down onto the once smooth oaken surface of the coffee table that had an indent within it, "Will you stop being so un-awesome and actually give some of your personal help here?! Damn Communist bastard," spoke Gilbert vehemently.

"Does ghost man not like me now?" asked a child-like voice that was laced with the voice of an insane individual.

"It's not that I don't like you; more along the lines of I don't trust people."

Jade eyes watched anxiously as the 'sexual tension' grew; digital camera and video camera on the ready.

"I have you know that I of trustworthiness, da," childly spoke the tall Russian, "And for you information my home country is no longer of Communist views."

"You say that now, but give or take a blink of 'our' eyes your damn country will be the USSR. It will be like some cheesy ass American made film called USSR: The Return or even USSR: Part II." Violet eyes began to glow with anger as well as the build of a demonic-like aural. "Not to mention after that your damned home country will be un colony of Great Britain or the United States of America, hell, even Italy and they have been a weak country since God knows when."

Eyes widen to show the true anger hiding beneath pale skin that was slowly rising to the surface, an anger that would make most assume was that of an insane person. In the background the soft blinking red glow of the video camera's light, indicating that it was recording, was beating away like a heart gone wild on an adrenaline run. Auras between the two strong vampires grew and grew until one could almost physically see it because it was so strong to sense, however, that tension only grew so far until a flying circular object came rushing and hit the Russian in the head. "YOU PROMISED TO NOT FIGHT WITH THAT ALBINO, ARU!" Violet eyes turned to see the petite frame of an Asian man with a low ponytail that rested upon one of his shoulder and the length of which slid down to his chest. "Ivan! LET'S GO!" glared browned eyes. "Do not make me wait . . . Please."

Blinking fast at the scattered words Ivan had to process what was being said. "Wait, the promising to the waiting now – I do not understand Yao-Yao. Please be the explaining to me now?" The silver haired man tried to decipher the one train of thought to the next, seeming to be in random order and not making sense to him; not to make account for the angry of his love from seconds before to this quiet and pleading person.

A sleeved covered hand smacked upon the slightly tanned skin as the head shook once rested within said hand. "Ivan . . ." Due to the hand covering the man's eyes Ivan had no idea that tears threatened, ever so closely, to fall or stain the elegant silk sleeves of his jacket. A gnawing feeling was starting to chew through Ivan's unbeating heart as he reached for his mate, his lover, his other half, his everything, but the hand's destination left in silence. The long and thick sleeve remaining a sheath upon the lightly tanned skin as the owner became smaller and smaller until out of view.

"Yao?" Ivan asked with a small lift of breath. "Why?"

By this point in time the flickering red light from the video camera was turned off and the holder long gone, due to the 'sexual tension' gone as with the hopes of a hot sex scene, a hot guy on guy sex scene. The other being in the room was lounging lazily on the couch and started to clap to the other in the room, "Dumkof." The albino stood up and smacked the Russian's back hard in an unappreciated manner, "Get ready for Arthur's return, dumkof Communist." With that the albino walked out of the commoner room." As Gilbert walked away and up to his room he thought about what happened to try and waver the present thoughts he had had since his dream. "Forgot that today was the day that Yao gave all for you, dumkof . . ." Tears started to gently fall down pale cheeks as he finally walked into his room. Strong legs quickly pushed for the section that was modeled according to his and his lover's destroyed home. A ghost hand reached into the identical crib and grasped a burnt yellow plush, one of the few remnants of his family that was not totally destroyed, and forced it upon a heaving chest as arms clutched it tightly. "Ich wünschte nur, wir hatten diese Chance, Mattie." (I just wish we had that chance.)

The ghost of a man retreated to his bed and laid down, keeping the plush held tightly against his chest. His mind retreating to the time of that dream. "Wer? Ich frage mich, wer?" (Who? I wonder who?) asked Gilbert, allowing his true German, or as he puts it Prussian, come out. "I vonder if it is you, my Mattie, watching over me, even in sleep." That pleasant thought made Gilbert happy, yet sad. The pale body curled up more around the small object of a 'once upon a time' tale.

Sky blue eyes opened slowly, blinking multiple times to clear the wear of sleep from said eyes. A tanned hand rubbed at those eyes to try and rid that fogginess of sleep away as quickly as possible. The will to push his body up into a sitting position was difficult, bones cracked and crunched as gravity took effect on them. "Where-?" Alfred's voice cracked at the length of being unused for so long.

A smooth and cold object was being pressed into his free hand. "Poppet, here. Drink this and you'll feel a bit more refreshed," spoke an accented voice, an English voice. Taking the advice, Alfred drank the liquid down easily; it sliding down in mass quantity. It was so pure in taste and cool: refreshing, maybe, was the right term. Alfred had no words to truly describe it as he guzzled the liquid down. "Thirty are you poppet?" chuckled the accented voice. A cool object started to pet and comb through Alfred's hair.

"Mmmm…." moaned Alfred at the feeling. It reminded him of when he was little and sick, his mother would get him to drink something or eat something while running her long, warm fingers through his hair. Two skies turned to look at Arthur's figure and they widened slightly. Memories rushed through Alfred's mind so quickly he couldn't process them, yet he knew that there was something to the man. He closed his eyes and stopped drinking the fluids. "W-who?" stuttered Alfred.

A sad smile curled onto Arthur's lips, "How are you feeling?"

"My head . . . it kills…. Sluggish," thought Alfred as his thoughts scattered around.

"I see. Well, I am Arthur. Arthur Kirkland. Please refrain from pet names and do not refer to me as Mr. Kirkland. I will care for you while you are here because you are special to the Master of this house." O God save the Queen, I lied . . . A cheesy lie at that.

"Sp-special?" asked Alfred, fearing threading it's way in his voice.

Pale lips curled a bit more happily as the thoughts of the two becoming one again and living together and doing everything together . . . All over again. "Yes, you see. The Master believes that you are his soul mate." A red flag seemed to grow and stand tall as Arthur was kicking himself on the inside. So DAMN CHEESY! I'm horrid at this love nonsense talk! I can't talk easily to you . . . You that has finally arrived . . . You that I love . . . Why am I bad at this?

Eyes stared dully at the vampire and blinked. "You know how stupid that sounds right?"

"Ummmm, maybe?" the response coming more out as a question as the mental beating persisted more violently like an angry beating drum.

"So, Arthur," tested Alfred, "When can I go home?"

Porcelain hands clammed up from the sweat being produced. "I don't know, Al, to be honest with you." Emeralds looked down at the ground, not even realized that sky eyes were staring at him in wonder. "I really don't know, but the Master . . . He's loved you for a long time."

Soft pink lips pursed up at the thought. That's not creepy, an old guy likes me and I haven't met him. "May I please just go?"

"NO!" lashed out Arthur. His eyes widened at his brashness. They ghosted over to see his former mate taken aback from it all as well. The teen seemed surprised, yes, but scared as well. "Sorry, but you can't. You can wonder around the manner when you are feeling better." A small cough filled the vampire's throats as he attempted to think of more things that Alfred could do. "You can meet the others that live here and when you're ready, Al, you may meet the Master. Please get well, love." Once again, emeralds widened in shock at the little bits of information slipping from his mouth and this time they saw the wonder in the American's eyes, trying to decipher the meaning behind some of the words.

"A-Alright."

A curt nod was given to Alfred as the vampire spun on his heels and left the darken room quickly. This gave Alfred a chance to look at his surroundings for the first time. Dark and gloomy: were the only words to describe the room. Gray painted walls and black and gray tiled floors encased the room. Black bed spread with white pillows that had a delicate black pattern on the hem and smaller pillows that were as black as night. Alfred turned his head and saw another glass of that liquid resting upon a dark wooden night stand that was clearly aged, just like the double drawer dressing that stood proudly against the wall like a guard giving watch. It was a classical look, Alfred gave the Master of the estate that, but it was so gloomy.

Lying back down, Alfred let out a happy sigh. Thank god that the bed was soft and comfortable. Eyes were covered by tanned lids as a sigh escaped light pink lips. Why? Why am I here? I just want to be with my family. My brother . . . We left off on a bad subject. Mattie. The calling of sleep was burning through Alfred's body. What happened? I remember him . . . Arthur wasn't it? I accidently hit him with my car. He was . . . He had no pulse. So how? I mean . . . All that blood.

The pounding of knuckles against wood resonated throughout the room. "Mi escusi," (excuse me) came a timid voice. The dark wooden door, that Alfred had failed to take into account, opened. The silver knob turning and squiggle lightly as the inner mechanics moved and the door opening up more to reveal a lightly tanned face. "Are you a hungry?" beamed a voice that was coated with interest, yet fear.

"No."

The person walked in quietly and was holding a silver covered tray. "Signor Artù requested I make a you some of my a delicious food." It was boy, a thin boy that was Spanish, by Alfred's guess. Light brown hair that came to no longer than the middle of the nape of his neck and possessed a curl on his left side; Alfred nearly laughed at that. It's like mine, though on the side and thinner. The boys eyes didn't seem to be opened, but he didn't trip over his feet as he walked around to place the nightstand. "Eat a per favore, at least for Signor Artù's sake!"

"I said no. I'm not hungry and not for him," reinforced Alfred, "I don't know who Artù is, but if he is the Master of the house, then he's the reason to why I am here."

"Ahh," breathed the boy, "But you are here because he wants to a keep you a very safe from ahh . . . I said too much." A lightly tanned hand reached up and rubbed at the back hairs of the owner's head. "I am Feliciano Vargas," smiled the boy, showing off canines that were slightly sharp at the ends. Wait, not slightly were very sharp.

Blue eyes widened as they stared at them. "Dude . . . What's with your teeth?"

Feliciano just stared in the air as if he didn't comprehend the question at all. "Wha-?" questioned the man, no boy, in question. "Oh, my a teeth you mean?" Blue eyes twitched in an irritated fashion. No, the fucking Easter Bunny; yes, your teeth! "Isn't obvious?"

"What's obvious?"

"You aren't a that a bright are you?"

A golden brow lifted up high. "And you are brighter than sunshine?"

"I don't like the sun that much!" The boy started to freak out slightly at the word. "It causes skin damage and burns and it's bright!" 'Good recovery! . . . I'm hungry. PASTA!' "So, Alfredo, you like pasta? You have to like pasta because you are named after pasta. Fresh marinara sauce with a homemade pasta noodles is the best! VE! Pasta is a the best gourmet food a ever!"

Alfred was looking at the Feliciano now with a sudden fear at something wrong. "What are y-"

"Feliciano, you were just to give Alfred his food and leave." The man started to bite his lip and the regret of staying. "Please leave. Go to Ludwig, alright?" A small nod was the only motion that was given as he walked out of the room quietly. "Sorry about that love. Italians are a talkative bunch." Oh, not Spanish, but close . . .

Emeralds stared happily at sky blue. "It's fine. Though his teeth were . . . Ya know, sharp."

A chuckle erupted from the pale lips, "Yes, well that runs in his family." The shorted and lighter blonde walked over and sat on the side of the bed, by Alfred's still body. Bed shifting and sinking due to the new weight added to it. "How are you feeling?"

"A bit better, more coherent," Alfred thought of more things to describe how he felt, "A little freaked because I know I hit you with my car."

"Well, yes you did, but`"

Deep endless pools of blue were boring into Arthur's green with heavy confusion accenting the eyes and had fear lurking not far behind. "Then how are you here?!" interrupted Alfred, "How are you up and walking like I never did hit you?! You should be dead!"

"Well that was a little hurtful that last bit," Arthur coughed lightly to clear his throat to get Alfred's attention at his explanation, "Alfred, dearest, do not fret over that. When the time is right you will know the answers that I assure you, but, now, you must rest and regain your strength."

"No. I need to know. Who are you? Why did you take me? What did you do to me?"

A sigh erupted from Arthur's lips, "I said to wait and wait you will. You are in no condition to know the truth. Recover and be strong like you should be and will be." 'And remember for me; remember the days of old. Lounging in lengthened grass that tickled our sides as we watched to fullness of a blue moon kissing the stars in an endless sea of black. Remember the kisses we shared here and there or the times our soft touches grew to something stronger and possessive.'

"Why must I wait?"

"Stubborn like always," sighted Arthur, "The time isn't right and you are not well enough."

"That's not an excuse."

Another sighed came about, "And neither is that to gain a reason when I have already given you my final say."

Alfred's golden head fell back onto the soft feathered pillows. "Then tell me . . . Why Feliciano said that the Master of the house was Artù and I know that Artù is Italian for 'Arthur' and you said that your name was Arthur."

"Alfred, please love, give it a rest. Arthur is a popular name of England and that is where you are, England just outside of London." 'God, why did you accurse me with this life and my horrid ability to lie well with him?'

'I'm so far from home,' thought Alfred. "C-can I go home?"

"No," quickly spoke Arthur, "It is unsafe there. Here I can protect you and prevent harm to you."

Alfred looked at Arthur because of the slip. "You will protect me? Why?"

"B-because I was order to," stuttered Arthur, "Just please do not argue with me and eat your food; food will help you get better sooner."

"I'll eat when I'm ready and I'm not hungry now. I just want to sleep."

Arthur stood to his full height, which was shorter than Alfred, "Alright, just eat at some point. I care for you and want you to get better." 'I hope he gets the slips I'm feeding him; they are pure gold!' With a quick nod, Arthur promptly left and went to his private room; up the long steps to the top floor of the mansion and to the door on the right. Soft thuds of feet hitting carpeted floor echoed lightly off the decorated walls: portraits and painting clung to the wall like tight leather on a body. There were framed priceless artifacts; protected by the shields of fragile glass. Black leathered shoes of the finest quality paved their way across a golden sea of carpet and walls shined around the moving figure in a blanket of sky blue; Alfred's eye color constantly watching him and the aged color of his lover's hair always close, so that when the pained urge struck Arthur reached down and lightly ran his fingers through the long carpet in memory. Arthur remembered some nights and long days he would just lay on the carpet and cry in silence as his fingers wove in and out of the long strings of fibers.

"If only you understood my love," sighed Arthur as he bent down and just laid on the golden floor, "Knew of what was and what is to come. Pain will come and I hope love will flourish, even if it is not for some years to come. Just let me be close and watch over you; protect you and serve you like a slave and soldier." His light golden head pressed against the golden touch of the carpeted fibers.

Meanwhile, on the floor beneath Arthur's bedroom Alfred stared at the food with disgusted interest. Food was his enemy, ever since he could remember it was the foods doing: made him fat, obese. When he was younger he outweighed all the other kids and it wasn't until he started to grow in height that the weight evened out, but the memories remained. The only thing that kept Alfred going and having friends was his personality, yet none knew that their beloved friend was suffering in the inside. The constant nights of starving himself on purpose and the nights that he would spend jamming his fingers or his toothbrush down his throat in order to bring back out the very things that were making him fat. It took years for people to notice the changes in Alfred as he grew from young to old and his condition worsening each day he kept suffering in silence, yet he grew thin and was happy. That was until his brother found out and he was sent for help; on and off Alfred would go a doctor and sometimes a treatment center for help.

Shakily, Alfred got up and grabbed removed the shinning cover to the tray of food. Sky eyes stared at a burger laced with lettuce, tomato, sautéed onions and mushrooms, American cheese, ketchup and mustard lacing the insides of a whole wheat bun and the entrée was surrounded by a Romanian leaf salad with eggs, green peppers, cucumbers, and a side ranch. There were even fries, but the blue eyes kept wandering the tray: a soda in the corner and a thick piece of brownie that had a fair amount a chocolate frosting woven on the top and even chocolate chips were mixed in. Alfred licked his lips and forced himself up. He carried the tray and went into the conjoined bathroom that he thought led to the hall, but was relieved it was a bathroom. Black lid of the toilet was thrown up and the contents of the tray emptied within the black bowl. Blue eyes watched as tanned fingers forced the device to make the water swirl and the food to disappear. As arms wrapped around Alfred's stomach he walked back to his bed and laid down with an "umph". "Want to go home," whispered Alfred.

Emeralds eyes became shielded by pale lids as memories came rushing out the ghosts of a past so long ago, but seemed like yesterday to the vampire. "Alfred . . ." breathed Arthur as the memories continued to soar freely within his mind. "I love you so much that it hurts to wait, but I can't hurt you because of my selfishness."

Light snores danced their way to Arthur's sensitive ears. The vampire found the noise comforting in a way; they filled the silence of the cold night. The softs panging of snowflakes hitting the glass windows echoed so faintly that Arthur even had a hard time picking it up, but the panging was persistent throughout the night and continued even when the first lights of dawn emerged from over the tall trees surrounding the small wooden cabin. As the sun climbed through the window Arthur felt tired and managed to fall asleep quickly. However, Alfred was on his way to waking up as the rays hit his face, warming him. He moaned lightly as the tall, tanned body turned. After a few more minutes Alfred pushed himself up and forced himself down the steps. He stopped by the other bed and poked at the sleeping figure. "Hey, its morning," Alfred said in a gruff voice trimmed with sleep, "Sleeping beauty! Sunshine! Up, up."

The figure turned onto his other side and grumbled unhappily, "Shhh . . . Daytime."

Blue eyes blinked. 'You got to be kidding me,' thought Alfred. With a swift motion of his arms he ripped the blanket off and walked to the kitchen to start breakfast. Sighing at the small amounts of milk and eggs left Alfred pulled out strips of meat from his kill a few days prior. The harsh winter of Virginia was not a kind, nor easy one compared to that of England. Arthur was grumbling at the loss of his shield and his exposed flesh reddened quickly at contact. Green emerald opened up and pulled away from the source. Alfred laid pieces of the meat in a blackened skillet and took the heavy object to the dying fire and placed it on the burning ashes.

"Alfred?"

"You didn't get up," smiled Alfred lightly as he flipped the venison over in the large skillet. "You need to get up. Not healthy to sleep all day, ya'know."

"Maybe not for you, but for me it's natural," Arthur coughed lightly because of the lie he was about to sprout, "I have a small allergy to the sun and I get sunburned easily. So I sleep during the day and do most of my activities during the night."

"Well . . ." thought Alfred aloud, "If that's the case I will put some linens on the windows for you when I am done with frying the meat."

'He's too considerate.' Arthur let a cough ring from his delicate throat to make the silence dissipate in order to ask a question, "So, Alfred . . . Why are you so accommodating?"

Blue eyes didn't move from the black skillet as meat sizzled and browned. "I do not know. I guess because I am lonely." A quick flip of the pieces of meat prevented Alfred from answering, "I've lived here for a while: built a home for myself yet I am still here alone. I wait for that one that I know will complete a void, but until then my home is open to anyone that needs it because that's who I am: someone who seems like a savior in the dark and can provide the unseen."

A faint blush had crept its way on Arthur's face due to Alfred's words. 'He sounds so sincere about his words. I . . . I am truly astounded.' "I see. You are an amazing person young Alfred."

"Don't chide about being young. I am a man and not much younger than you, kind sir."

"Only you would assume as such."

Eyes rolled in amusement as that ebony skillet was removed from the heavy heat of dying fire and placed on the wooden table. "Please eat; your body will appreciate it as much as your soul."

'What soul? I am a monster.' "Thank you," Arthur spoke softly that it came out as barely a whisper. His lithe body lowered itself in the chair and just stared at the food. 'I cannot digest this. It would be a waste for me to eat this.'

"Eat up," smiled Alfred as he sat down by Arthur and stole two pieces of the sizzles meat.

"I'm hungry, but not for this," spoke Arthur sadly as he looked at Alfred with bashful eyes, "I am hungry for something more substantial to me." The smaller body got up and fell onto Alfred's taller body; chair pushed back as they both fell onto the cold floor. Creaks vibrated off the walls as the smaller pinned the taller. Alfred was shocked by the strength of the smaller. "I'm sorry, but I must if I am to survive."

"You are sick if you eat human!" screeched Alfred.

"I do not eat humans; I drink their blood because that is what I. Am." With that Arthur swiftly dipped his head down into the bend of Alfred's neck and bite into the soft, tanned flesh with brutality. Alfred released a pained moan in response to the savagery, yet didn't dare move from fear and pain that shook his neck; a moan of intense feeling left Arthur's throat as he drank the sanguine liquid with swift. It was the best thing he had every tasted; rich and sweet and tasted like . . . like life. Arthur could not explain it; life had a taste. Lively and bursting with sweetness was life. It only took a few large gulps to fill Arthur because the liquid was so filling. "Alfred . . . Your blood is amazing." Arthur sucked on the wound he made and licked it clean to help the clotting process. The blood singing to Arthur in ways he could not imagine. It was like light shining on an entire new world. When he was done Arthur pulled back and looked at widened eyes of fear. "I'm sorry, but I will not hurt you any longer. I wish to . . . To be close. That is the term I believe; be close to you." Emeralds looked at the sky in hesitant fear of rejection and it was about to happen. A hurt sigh escaped Arthur's pale lips as he gripped the colony men's chin and stared deeply in the endless pools of blue. "Listen to me, Alfred . . ." spoke Arthur with a commanding tone, "You are to forget about what just happened, to never recall it, never think of it. You will continue on remembering you had just sneezed and I jumped and scared you, which resulted in you falling." Arthur was about to break the connection but thought of one last thing to keep this human, no, this person of interest always close, "And . . . You will be honest with me no matter the embarrassment or betrayal."

A silent and still kiss was placed on Alfred's forehead as black pupils widened in understanding. When Arthur broke the connection the American colonist rubbed his head and moaned loudly. "Arthur you sneezed so suddenly and dear God does my head hurt."

"Sorry about that poppet," smiled Arthur as he helped the larger up. 'That was the most redundant lie I have ever tried to pass . . . And it bloody worked.'

"P-poppet?" blushed Alfred quietly.

Emeralds widened in realization, "S-sorry . . . I just use that expression a lot and carelessly."

As the American colonist stood he ran a hand through his aged golden hair. "It's okay . . . It's just," a smirk spread on Alfred's face as he went to the table to clear it, "I think that you would be the one called poppet, not I."

Now the blush turned tables and the Brit was wondering about the man before him. He wonder what was behind those bright and unique eyes and the thoughts that were in his head. A soft smile appeared before Arthur's eyes and then a soft blush like a childhood crush. 'Wait!' Arthur looked at Alfred with interested awe now. "A-Alfred?"

"Yes?" asked Alfred as he looked at Arthur, yet his hands working on getting a fire going.

"Why did you take me in?"

Blue eyes returned to the task at hand, but there was no emotion shown in them as they stared past the twigs and kindling about to be lit on fire. "Because . . . I thought you were gorgeous and . . . That's to expect from me . . ." Alfred's spoke in scattered and slow thoughts, "Expected because I . . . I prefer men by my side . . . Not women." Emeralds stared at the bent figure working on magnify the small flames into a stronger source of heat. "And . . . I want to know you because I think that I'm in love with you."

"To think," breathed Arthur as his fingers stroked that golden carpet as if it was Alfred's hair, "That we started off that and that was your first time telling me that you loved me."

Matthew awoke to a sharp pain vibrating from his face as his body was thrusted to the side by pure force. He opened his violet eyes, wincing in pain, to see the outstretched hand of the man that had captured him. "Morning," smirked Francis, "I want to play today, but first . . ." The America-Canadian felt his hand being taken into a cold grasp. He looked in curiosity and had the desire to pull his hand away, but it was in a steel grip. "Zhis might 'urt," warned Francis as he picked up a pair of old pliers that were used in the First Great War and brought Matthew's hand close to it, "Point at me with one of your fingers . . . Or else suffer something worse."

Worry sprout in Matthew's chest as he began to break out in a cold sweat. "I . . . I refuse."

"Poor zhing. Never learn, stupid American!" sneered Francis as he grabbed Matthews by the throat and held his captive's head still to one side. "I warned you . . ." Francis pressed the old pliers against Matthew's face and with a quick squeeze he clamped them shut.

"AHHHHHH!" cried Matthew as pain shot though him like lightening. The teen felt something warm begin to run among his face. When he opened his eyes something got in them and the room smelled of iron.

Francis picked up the piece of the boy's body that he had just removed, his left ear, and smiled. "Next time you will listen. Now to mail zhis and come back to play."

"TWISTED FUCKER!" screeched Matthew.

The Frenchmen paid no heed to Matthew's outbreak or at least not yet because he wanted to get this present sent immediately to an old friend. An old friend that betrayed him. As Francis foot stepped past the door he remembered to stop and take a picture. With a heavy sigh he turned back and pulled out his cellar device and said, "Smile for zhe camera~" A near silent sound echoed off the stone walls as the picture was taken. Only then did Francis leave the room. He locked it and went to his study quickly, having no time to deal with listening to the delicious whimpers of his prey. As quickly as he could he plugged his phone to his laptop and was able to print Matthew's beautifully bloodied and bruised picture. A manila envelope was ready and the picture was placed inside, as was the ear after it was wrapped in a plastic package. A letter was also put inside and then came the address being written on the package once it was sealed. Then all that remained was the wait for the package to arrive to his old friend.

"Hey Gilbert you have mail," called Elizabeta as she handed him his mail. A pale hand touched her slightly as she blushed.

A grin broke out, "Seems like I can still touch you heart unlike that Austrian brat you fell for!" Blonde eyebrows furrowed in anger and with a stomp of her foot, Elizabeta was rubbing it against Gilbert's over and over and over until he finally got tired of it and left. His eyes looked at the package, "It is heavy, but I did not order anything lately." Once Gilbert was at the dining room table he opened the package and pulled out the letter, but did not open it because a picture fell onto the lacquered surface of the table. A pale hand picked it up and stared at the figure on the paper. "N-no way . . ."

On the photo was Matthew's abused face: littered with bruises, ranging from yellow to purple, and spilt blood running into those violet-blue eyes. Those eyes seemed full of pain, but they stared at Gilbert like they knew him. Red eyes stared back as if they knew the person on the picture. Gilbert turned the picture around and read the name, Matthew Williams age 19. "M-Mattea? Did she . . .?" Pale hands quickly opened the letter and scanned it hastily, but throughouly:

"Look what I have found old Friend; seems I have been trying to find something that I did not want, but here I have it. I propose a tradeoff – Alfred F. Jones for your reincarnated lover, yes this is your lover reincarnated because the signs are there. Fair trade, non?

Francis Bonnefoy"

"That bastard! He knows where to hit so that it hurts the most, but Mattea did not reincarnate, she wouldn't have." Red eyes wondered to the picture again and those purple-blue eyes bore into him like his Mattea's did and it seemed that these eyes were eerily like the ones that had haunted his dreams those days ago. Pale fingers ripped the smaller, plastic package open as his brain tried to think. However, his thoughts were stopped quickly due to the smell that was released: the stench of rotting flesh. Gilbert knew the smell to well, but when rancid blood appeared on his fingers he dropped the package in pure shock and that shock only worsened when a rotting ear bounced its way out of the package. "Dear God!"

The stench was strong and smelled of death and rot, but underneath it was the scent of something sweet, something that Gilbert thought was lost. "N-no!"

"What is it?!" yelled a startled voice as the Hungarian women made her way back in, "Gilber- What is that?!"

"MATTIE! THAT BASTARD WILL DIE!"

Please excuse the errors, I have no one editing them for me.

Reviews?