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

Hey, I did say I had a bunch of these just waiting. Can you believe this was just sitting in my files for three years? Enjoy!

Really shocked anyone is reading any of my old stuff, but I am glad people like it!

Chapter Twenty Four: Safe Haven

D questioned which of his two ideas would be more productive. Taking Bakura's gun and shoving it in Claire's mouth to silence her or putting it to his temple and blowing his brains out. He supposed neither idea would be appreciated by the young man, but the boy was getting desperate. Never in his life had he met a more crass and chatty thing as Claire Ackermann. It almost made him properly appreciate the parasite within his left hand…almost. It was not as if it was much better, and D had to dig his nails constantly into it to shut it up before it alerted the girl of its presence. Yet he could hardly blame it. The complaints issued by its tiny mouth only echoed his own irritation with the girl.

To put it simply, the girl had no respect. For anything. Her parents had lived long enough to show her the basics of how to take care of herself, but seemed to have left any sort of etiquette out of their lessons. Tell her she could not have something and she would throw a fit. Tell her to do something and she would dig in her heels (physically or mentally), refuse…, and throw a fit. Tell her to stay away because I-am-going-to-the-bathroom-and-want-privacy and she would hide and try to peek because she was curious. D had caught and chased her off to his knowledge about fifteen times. He was just glad she seemed to dislike…or distrust Bakura for the most part, thus making her disinterested in attempting the same trick on him. He did not need to be harassed like the boy was. D doubted the young man would have noticed, though, lately he seemed preoccupied and less talkative; or perhaps it was just that Claire dominated every conversation to the point of nausea. This point was exacerbated by the notion that she actually liked D, and would always attempt to get him to talk back. She seemed to have come to the idea that since he had spoken to her a lot during their first meeting, that he was just as interested in talking as she was. She would go on for hours, blathering away about her life and how she chased away Outies all the time until Bakura and D came along.

Like she was doing right now.

"So how'd you guys get over here in the first place? Was it a long walk? Did you use a car? Did you have friends before you left? Did he take you away from your friends? What was your momma like? She must have been pretty. My momma was pretty..." Claire chattered as they made their way down the 140. D tried to command his facial expressions, but he could feel his eye twitching as every question pelted him with an unanswerable response. It was as if the girl did not need to breathe.

They had brought Claire into their two-man group five days ago, and had been on the road for three. The first two days were filled with helping her find things to take, whether necessary or sentimental in nature. At first, she had been wary of the idea, to which both Bakura and D could not blame her. Two strange people arrive into town and then the elder of the two insists that she goes with them? Were it not that D knew Bakura well, had it been the same position only he was being asked, he would have ran as fast as he could away from the two of them; or he would have shot them. Yet for all of her bravado, it seemed that her lack of companionship had won out. By D's coaxing and logic that had they meant to hurt her she would have been already, because anything Bakura said was initially taken with an immense mistrust, she decided the lonely life of an Outie killer was not for her. This choice D regretted every day he opened his eyes, but he was partially to blame as well. He had assisted Bakura in this because it meant something to the young man, and D wanted nothing more than for the man to be happy. So much had already happened to him, so much because of the boy.

The other three days had consisted of traveling east at a snail's pace. Claire was not used to traveling as the other two were (yet even they were by no means professionals), nor did she have the stamina or seem to want the stamina the others had in continuing for long periods of time. Her complaints began two miles after they had first set out, saying that her back hurt, her feet hurt, she was getting a blister, it was hot, and after Bakura had been nice enough to stop them and allow them a rest she had thrown her first tantrum when he insisted that they move on. They moved four miles that day. The second day they managed a total of seven miles, which he was shocked to discover after estimating the steps that he had walked. He had taken to counting his steps to both keep track of their progress as well as drown out some of her incessant questioning. Unfortunately the drowning out did not always work.

"She was pretty," he said, counting one hundred and fifty seven steps taken since they had begun this third day on the road. He looked up at Bakura, wondering what the man was thinking.

Bakura stared down the highway, the vast, flat, unused farmland in silence. There were many things on his mind, and he found that the gray clouds that were looming above, casting their shadow and color on the land below them were doing nothing to aid him. Memories of the time spent in the Gray Room flickered in his mind; he looked down just long enough to verify that his hands still held their color. It confirmed he was there. That none of this was a dream.

When he had first taken Claire into their fold, he had seen her as a child who perhaps did not know the proper way to deal with others; one who had been left to her own devices so long that courtesy would be a foreign thing (she had lost her father at the start of the devastation, and her mother had become sick two years ago, dying after instructing her daughter to be distrustful of strangers and teaching her everything required to live as she had been when they had met her). He was not shocked by her conduct, but rather what he saw when he got a better look at her. When she had taken off the visor and the goggles, the bright clothing, traded them for comfortable nighttime wear and set loose her hair from its favored style, it was almost like looking at his sister all over again. The wrong hair and eye color, but everything else, and it did not make sense. His nightmares that haunted him kept returning to the point, that mad insistence that to keep going would mean seeing his sister again (something that he remembered vehemently denying knowing about to D at some point) and here was her doppelganger, calling him an "Outie" and holding one-sided discussions with D. He felt the need to write to her, his sister, to see if it were so, if he was seeing what she had become, to see if she had moved on, but he stopped himself. It was madness, and he would drive himself mad thinking about it. If it were his sister before him, then his not-so-dreamlike-dreams were a lie, and he had no reason to follow his intuition, no real place to wander. If it was not, then the coincidences piled up to the point that it would be insane not to think it possible. Before leaving the abandoned city, he had seen her chewing on a white band, later realizing it had been a candy necklace. Before leaving, he had seen her hoard a pretty set of boxes in her backpack, swearing they held important things. Before leaving, she had told them about her birthday, and he realized that the inverse of her birthday was his. This did not even account for the similarities in personality. He could tell right away that she was a far more open child than she let on, prone to smiles, and had a confidence that had sharply increased when they had become familiar. Her love of gaudy jewelry and eccentric things exacerbated his dilemma further. He was positive that had she been allowed, Amane would have dressed similar, just because she could.

The night he realized this, after he was positive the other two were asleep, he had silently wept, covering his face with his arm. His desperate, desolate loneliness seemed to be returning to him, and it did not make anything easier thinking about Amane. D, and now Claire, needed him to be clear headed, and here he was falling back into an unstable emotional state. Bakura shook the thoughts from the recent past out of his mind, and looked back at the two children who followed. He would not lie; he was being very lenient when it came to Claire and her attitude. He felt bad that D had to suffer so; he had hoped that the boy would eventually come to see her as a friend. Perhaps it was too early, though.

"Oh, what'd she look like? How tall was she? My momma was-"

"Maybe it is best if you let him answer one question at a time, Claire?" Bakura offered. The girl looked up at him with rampant distrust and rolled her eyes. The young man sighed, watching D as the boy's face drooped. It was as if he was giving up a fight. That look is what brought Bakura from his inner conflict to deal with the situation that he had refused to deal with thus far. His face set, he stopped walking. The other two gave him looks of surprise as he kneeled down to Claire's height. "Do not roll your eyes at me, it is impolite," he started.

"I don't need you telling me nothing," she muttered back, "I was talking to D."

"What you need, I think is a little respect for other people. Maybe D-kun does not want to talk right now."

"Well he can tell me that, can't he?" she sassed, placing her hands on her hips. Bakura raised an eyebrow, realizing that the fight he was about to pick might be a more difficult battle than he had thought.

"D-kun could if he wanted to, but you are not giving him a chance. That is beside the point. Right now, I am taking care of you. I am feeding you. I am making sure you are in a safer place than the one you came from. Do not talk to me that way, do you understand?"

"I can talk to you whatever way I want!" she snapped, her face reddening. Her fingers clenched, her fists balled, and her stance offered no quarter. The explosion would happen soon if he did not find a way to temper her attitude. "I can do whatever I want. If I wanna talk to D, I can. If I wanna stay here, I can. Youuu can't tell me what to do. I don't need you. I don't need your help, or food, or anything. I was fine!"

His patience had run out. He stood, his gaze hardening. "Fine then," he replied coolly, "Then I guess you do not need our company. You can stay here if you like. I am certain other 'Outies' will find you and take care of you. But do not follow us. Come, D-kun." He motioned for the boy to take his hand, who did, surprise apparent on his face. The boy did not know what had come over his companion; it seemed very unlike him. He was about to question this when he saw the side glance he was getting from Bakura. It spoke of a cruel and sly tactic that D both commended and, for a moment, disliked the man for. They had taken about five steps before D heard the first jagged breath, another seven before a sniffle. Something about leaving her behind, even in falsehood tugged at the boy's heart. Yet it was when he heard her speak again that D wanted to turn around, even with all the harassment he had dealt with, and tell her to come with them. He inwardly cursed this compassionate part of him.

A soft sob echoed in his ears. "I don't wanna be alone…"

"You do not have to be," Bakura said, stopping but not turning around. D heard the sniffling stop and told himself to follow Bakura's lead unless he wanted to deal with the girl as her attitude stood. "We are happy to have you with us, but you have to be respectful, and listen to what I say. If you want to stay with us, then follow. If not, you know where to go." With that, Bakura began walking again, and D heard the girl scurry to catch up with them. He felt a hand reach for his left one and shied away. He glanced, saw the hurt look on the girl's face, and shook his head. D did not want to explain himself, so he let go of Bakura's hand and walked around to Claire's left side, taking her hand in his. Bakura saw this and smiled to himself. The saying went two birds with one stone, and he was certain he had hit both.

"I don't like you," the girl said, aiming her proclamation at the young man. Bakura turned to her and kept his smile. It really was like dealing with his sister again.

"You do not have to," he said, shrugging. "But I ask that you do not talk back to me that way ever again."

The walk that afternoon was punctuated by silence. D was grateful.

That night they rested under a tree just off the side of the road. While Bakura set up the tent, D and Claire were tasked to collect twigs and whatever else they could find for a fire. D searched the ground less lit by the sky every minute, thinking that they had made the best time in traveling since the girl's addition. He was so preoccupied that he did not realize that the girl was following him, more interested in watching him rather than picking up pieces of wood.

"Why are you following him?" she asked, almost startling the boy. His fingers curled around the twigs, the only sign that he had not been paying attention.

"Why are you following me?" he asked in return, "you haven't picked up anything."

"You're picking everything up," she replied, smiling. "Let me carry what you pick."

The boy stared at her warily as he handed over his hard work. She held the small stack with care and nodded at him. "Well, answer my question."

His eyebrow quirked upward. "What question?"

"Why are you following that Bakura guy?" She cocked her thumb back and gestured in the young man's direction. "I mean, I know you said he takes care of you, but why? And he really doesn't sound like he comes from around here at all. I mean he could be Japanese and stuff and sound normal."

"I already told you," he replied flatly, questioning if her accent was even normal. "We aren't from around here."

"Well where are you from?"

"Japan."

She frowned. "I'm not stupid you know…you couldn't have gotten here unless you had a plane, and there's no flying planes anymore."

"We took a boat."

She blinked. "Really? Why?"

D paused, a twig in his hand. He debated on telling her the truth, the truth about him. Perhaps she would leave him alone after that. Sighing, he piled the twig atop the others. That was not what he wanted. "Because we didn't want to be there anymore. We thought it was better here."

She giggled. "Well that must have been a bad surprise."

"Yeah."

"You still didn't tell me why you still follow him, though" she said teasingly, "He's no fun to be around." She frowned again. "And he's mean."

"He isn't mean at all," the boy replied, resigning himself to the conversation. "He saved me…"

"He saved you?" she asked. "From who?"

His father immediately popped into his mind. D looked down at his hands, thinking about what one-half of him was, knowing he could never explain himself. Andy's and Amami's stares still haunted him. "Bad people."

"Oh, and that's why you left?"

"Yes. Bakura-sama is very nice, and he is a very caring person. He just doesn't like it when people are rude to him."

"I still don't like him."

"Well, you don't have to."

"You're a lot like him," she huffed, and with that D smiled. It silenced the girl on the spot. That smile was like seeing the sunrise. He noticed her stare and it faltered into a sheepish half-grin.

"What?" he asked, confused.

"Nuthin'," she said, sticking her lower lip out and shaking her head. "I dunno. I just don't trust him. But I trust you."

"And I trust him," D said, handing her another small pile. "There's nothing to be afraid of when he's around."

"Can he shoot that gun?" she asked.

"Sort of."

Claire's mouth fell open. "What do you mean, sort of?! You can't sort of fire a gun…it's what my Daddy said. How's he supposed to take care of us if he can't even shoot with his weapon?"

"He can shoot," D said, "What I meant was, that's not the gun that he usually shoots with. We lost that one when we were on the boat."

"How'd you lose it?"

"Mermaids," D replied with a straight face. Claire's face brightened in awe before realizing he was joking.

"You're dumb."

"Actually, I'm rather intelligent. Was your mother teaching you stuff before…" he trailed off, realizing what he was about to say. She did not seem bothered by it, though.

"Kind of. She gave me books before she went with the angels…" her eyes got a faraway look before she continued. "She told me to read them every day…I didn't read them every day," she laughed sheepishly. "But I did bring one. Maybe I can read it to you?"

"If you'd like."

She beamed at him, and suddenly she did not seem so ridiculous to D. Certainly she had no taste in clothing, everything was bright and nothing matched, it seemed like she did not care. Not to mention her attitude left something to be desired most of the time, but she seemed more personable at this moment. D wondered if there might be a chance that they could become friends.

"Yeah, like all of the other ones you seem to have collected?" his hand quipped and D glared down at it, mentally threatening to cut it off.

"Did you say something?" Claire asked, looking at him confused.

"No," the boy replied, jamming his left hand into his pocket. "I think we're done, though."

That night Bakura and Claire ate from warmed cans of food. D tasted, and pretended to eat, offering Bakura his "leftovers" after the other two were through. Claire began another story of how her father had always insisted she clean her plate, and how D had to, otherwise she would be taller than he would because she ate more. This got D and her into a heated debate over what exactly made one tall while Bakura smiled to himself and ate the rest of D's can of food. He debated on how he was going to get the boy a proper meal, and decided the next town they came to, he would look for the hospital and find some needles and syringes. He doubted that anyone would have raided the entirety of it, considering how void the areas the group had been passing were.

By the light of the fire and a flashlight, Claire deemed it time to do some reading and went to grab for the book she promised to read D. The boy explained the importance of it to Bakura, who thought it was a wonderful idea. Perhaps they all could learn something, and once again obtain some normalcy in their routine. When she came out, D asked to see it. She grinned and handed it over without question.

The boy had not been paying attention to the cover, but if he had, he would have rethought his extended hand. The leather touched his fingertips and he gave a cry, dropping the book on the dirt and clutching at the fingers and palm of his right hand. Bakura sat up in alarm as Claire covered her mouth in surprise.

"What's happening, are you okay?!" she cried, and then her eyes went to her book. "Why'd you drop it in the diiiirrrt!?"

"Just a sting," D said biting his lip, pretending it was just as he said. Bakura gently took his hand and saw the burn marks. He quickly wrapped the boy's hand in a bit of damp paper towel, more trying to hide the injury than do anything for it. The boy continued to react as if it were nothing more than a sting or a bite of some sort, to which Bakura marveled.

"Something stung you?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes," Bakura said, "probably a bee we did not notice got trapped in your backpack. I have taken care of it."

"Ewww I hate bees…" she grumbled.

"I do too," D added, keeping the situation light while his mind reeled with the realization of what her book was. He knew the pain could have been worse, and he probably could have held the book in his hand with the pain had he known it was going to happen. He could feel the skin slowly mending under the damp paper, but he did not want to take it off to see the damage. Bakura looked uncomfortable from seeing the sight.

In order to keep the situation appear normal, the boy asked Claire to read her favorite passage. He prepared himself, aware of Bakura's silent protests, unsure of how his body would react. Claire was more than happy to continue, scooting closer to the fire for the light. With her attention off the boy, D removed the paper to view the damage. He sighed in relief. His hand was dark with a bruise, but that would heal in no time. It was at any rate that he wanted to know more of the book that caused his pain, and that could undo the likes of vampires lesser than his father. He could see the glinting gold foil cross of her religion embedded in the leather. He wondered, as she read, and as Bakura fidgeted uncomfortably, constantly glancing at the boy in concern, if other religions affected him so.

Night closed in on them with the sounds of coyotes and crickets. Claire had managed to put herself to sleep with her reading, and Bakura had been tucked into a sleeping bag for the night. Now Bakura sat by the fire, poking at it with a stick, doing nothing more than creating flickering sparks that danced in the smoke. D watched as he did this, his hand nearly back to normal. Taking note of the boy's gaze upon him, and the soft sounds of Claire's snoring from within the tent, he looked up to the sky, the stars shining in brilliance unheard of when the world had been "normal". He wondered what everyone else was doing. He wondered if they were alive.

"Are you okay?" Bakura asked, quietly. D nodded, but said nothing. The young man sighed, feeling the heat of the flames that were so near and comforting, and wishing that when he slept that night he went dreamless. The thoughts of East kept coming back to him while he tried to quiet his mind. That was when he noticed something peculiar. He squinted, his eyes training on the strange cast the darkness had taken in the sky. "D-kun?" he called, motioning for the child to look up.

D did as he was told. "What?" he asked, and then his eyes widened slightly. He remembered this. He remembered being young, at night in one of his father's garden's, he could not recall where they had been, but he had looked up at the sky and had seen something, something that had piqued his interest in others aside from the home he knew.

"Lights," Bakura said.

"City lights," D elaborated to no one in particular. "City lights do that to the sky, I remember reading that once in a book about telescopes."

A faint tinge of deep blue clustered against the eastern horizon. It was not a substantial change, but due to D's excellent eyesight and Bakura's ever strengthening perception, it was something that they had noted. Claire lay ignorant in the tent, dreaming her dreams and clutching the sleeping bag to her as if someone were about to steal it away. Those awake stared in awe, hope, and trepidation.

"What do you think that means?" D asked, his eyes wide and dark, a mirror to the sky.

"People, definitely," Bakura said, "but so far I have not seen anything that would let anyone have access to that much electricity to power a city since Domino…" He wondered if it was a friendly community. If there might be some chance that they could remain…but they would need to find out later. "It doesn't matter right now. Let's get some rest."

D was happy to let it go and hoped that the next day, they would find an empty town, with the generator still running, and forever set to its job for the rest of the days they lived there. That would be the place he would like to stay; D had no interest in adding anyone else to his or her group.

Morning offered them a cloudless day, and the two found Claire to be in a much more amiable mood. She shared a little more from her book before they set off, and everything seemed to be going well. Thus far, the heat of the day was by no means unbearable, and there was a pleasant breeze that spread the pleasant smell of the leftover flowers not killed by the heat. The sides of the road had become infested with wild flowers and weeds, and as they walked, Claire bounded from bush to plant, pulling what she wanted, fashioning herself a crown and bracelet. She declared herself queen and demanded D and Bakura to bow down. Bakura did so, laughing. D just watched them and shook his head.

It was just reaching afternoon when the group stopped for a break. Claire dragged D from his resting spot begging him to play a game with her, complaining that she had not had anyone to play tag or hide and go seek with for forever. Bakura sat on a rock that had been warmed by the sun, chuckling at Claire's ways of trying to persuade the boy to come with her. D looked to the man with concern, but went with the girl after the young man nodded his approval. Bakura smiled as he watched the two run off. He knew that he should not let them wander so far, soon they would wander off to where he could not see him, but he told himself not to worry. He knew that D could find him with no issue. Not to mention, thus far there had been no incidents with crazed wild creatures, or any sights of people wandering about. He watched as Claire bolted, with D close behind her, until they disappeared behind a nearby abandoned house. Looking at it, Bakura wondered if he would find anything useful in it.

He secured the items of D's and Claire's packs before storing them off to the side, hidden by the rock he sat upon. His own pack was fine, but he looked through it anyway just to be sure, taking his time to resituate a small pan that had been jabbing into his back for the last mile. It was then that he realized he could not hear the joyful shrieks of Claire being bested by D, who by now would have ended the charade that he was not twice as fast as she was. Standing, he was about to call for them confused as to why he still could not see them, when he heard a gunshot. He felt it hit the ground by his feet and jumped. He spun around, pulling his gun out, only to see three men pointing three different types of guns at him. His eyes widened. They were far enough away that they probably had not noticed his two younger companions before they had ran off, but then his stomach dropped. What if there were more? What if they had already been found? He tried to steady his hand, to show that he still had some control over his situation. It did not seem to stop them from advancing, so he thought he would try a different route. He stepped forward, raising his hands in the air, his gun no longer pointing in their direction, but toward the sky. Fighting the urge to throw up, the feeling of dread was so great it was burning his stomach with its acidic warning; he tried to smile.

"Hello," he started, unsure of how to speak to those who would shoot at a person alone with no weapon drawn.

"You might want to drop that weapon," the largest of the group said, still pointing his gun at the young man. Thankfully, the small group had stopped their advance.

"Okay," Bakura said, nodding, placing his gun on the asphalt. Wherever D and Claire were, he hoped that they would stay out of sight for now. He noted that they had arrived from the east, probably from the city. "You only startled me, that was why I pulled my weapon out."

Standing beside the largest man was a scrawny man with dirty, brown hair. When Bakura spoke, he wrinkled his nose in confusion. "You sound like you aren't from around here."

Bakura brightened at that. Maybe they had just been nervous. If they had come from the city, then maybe they had a similar system as they had in place back in Domino. "I am not, actually, but I promise I mean you no harm."

"I don't doubt that," the large man chuckled, lowering his gun and stepping forward. "I think that you are just a lonely wanderer, looking for some place to stay. We were just taking precautions, can't trust anyone now a days."

Bakura laughed along with him in relief. "I can understand that. I promise that I will be no trouble to you," he began, before the man smashed the butt of his gun against the young man's temple. His head rang in pain, and his vision clouded into darkness. The last words he heard were muddled and full of echoes.

"Damn, it's a guy."

"I don't give a shit…search him for anything good, bind him, and bring him along. We're almost out of enter—"

Twilight covered the land in shadowed trees and reddened skies. Ground squirrels emerged from their holes for one of the last few times in the remaining day as two children made their way out of the house, one with tear-streaked cheeks, the other holding the tearful one about the shoulders. They were swathed in the coming darkness, alone. Only the soft sounds of Claire's sniffling could be heard, the breeze having died out. Their packs lay hidden behind the rock Bakura had been sitting on, however, the young man's was not to be found.

"Outies," Claire whispered in fear. "I told you both there were Outies…"

D did not respond. He instead closed his eyes, remembering what he had come to consider his failure. They had found a way into the house, a perfect spot, Claire had said, for playing hide and seek. He had just been found by Claire, having let her win when he became bored of waiting for her, when he had heard the gunfire. In less than a second, he had tackled the girl to the ground. They had watched from the window, hidden by the curtains. There had been nothing he could have done, however. Had he ran off to save Bakura, Claire would have followed. He had no idea what they had planned, but he knew while the decision had hurt, he had made the right one. Bakura would have said so, and he had to have faith in that notion.

"D, now what?" The question posed to him was alien. He could not remember ever being in charge of a situation like this. They were both children in a world that had not been made for them, and their protector had been taken. He balled his fists against the unfairness of it all.

"Deeeeeeee—"

"Quiet!" he snapped, and the girl went silent. There was a new set of sniffling behind him. She had acted so tough when she had been in the church, D mused, and here she was, in a place she knew better by proximity than he did, asking him what they were going to do. Well, if she wanted to act it, she would have to be it. He could hear his left hand tittering and he silenced it as well. The boy had little time to deal with derisive japes. He had to think. So far, since their arrival to this land, he had let Bakura do most of the thinking, knowing that the man wanted him to have a 'normal' life. Had he tried to match wits with the man, would they be in the same position still? He did not know. All he knew was that they were two children, alone, and that the responsibility of their survival had been placed before him.

The sun had all but disappeared by the time he had come to a decision. Claire had taken residence by the rock, chewing on animal crackers and drinking from a bottle of warm water. Music played softly from the headphones beside her, the player having been left in her possession when she had complained she had wanted to carry it. D was still standing where Claire had left him, his eyes closed, his face concentrated. Had it been another situation, one might have guessed he had been posed some sort of math problem, and was trying to figure it out in his mind. When his eyes opened, they looked toward the faint light in the sky that had appeared once again.

"Claire?" he asked quietly. The girl turned to him, her eyes red but dry. "Are you really good with shooting?"

"That's a stupid question," She muttered, but continued, "Yeah…why?"

"Because," the boy replied, his dark gaze dead set to the East, "We are going to catch us some 'Outies'."