Disclaimer: I don't own Yu-Gi-Oh! or Vampire Hunter D (keeping this for posterity).

I had planned on posting this yesterday, but and its wisdom had other plans for me ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I was debating on whether or not to move this to AO3, too (and porting a story over here)...but then I would want to go over the past chapters again and tweak them, and I don't know if going over 180k words again is more beneficial then finishing the story.

I'm trying my best to do a chapter once every week or two, but not to have my constant readers wait any longer than that for something new. Especially since you all had to wait, what, give or take three years for the last update? I feel bad...

Anyway, enjoy! Feel free to leave a review if you're new, too!

Chapter Thirty: Strangers

Bakura's eyes slid open to a darkened room. He could have sworn that he had heard something odd, but with his mind in a fevered haze, he was not certain. It was only when he turned, which was a slow process as any fast movements made his head spin, and saw that the bed beside him was empty, that he knew the truth. Something had made a sound. That sound had been children running off to who-knows-where.

He groaned, pressing his face into his pillow before willing himself to stand. He had felt ill when talking to D, but had not expected that whatever he was sick with to hit him so hard. And now…now those two were missing. Staggering to his feet, he pulled on a warmer coat he had found downstairs (in what he had figured was the lost and found), looped his belt through his jeans, and made sure to holster his gun. He stopped short when he reached the top of the stairs, and pressed his hand to his back pocket. A stiff feeling was emanating from it, unlike the other side. He reached his hand in, and felt something he could not believe. How this kept happening—he could not even remember thinking about it when he had changed his old jeans for a new pair—was beyond him.

"Every time," he breathed, and pulled out the one card that had somehow managed to follow him no matter what happened. He smiled ruefully. "You're just like the Ring."

The strength of the nostalgia that hit him just then was something he thought he had left back on that quiet beach. He missed Yugi and the others so badly, even with the way things ended. He missed Amane, something that never went away, but made worse with how he felt. He missed the spirit, who had lied and deceived, but had been clever at surviving. He would have been helpful in a situation like this. If anything, it would have been nice to have someone to talk to, to gripe with. To complain to about how it would have been just so simple, if the children had just stayed put.

As he slid the card back into his pocket, he frowned. What were they thinking? After all that had happened, how could they think that running off would be a good idea? Whatever their reasoning, the fact that anything could come upon them should have been a deterrent enough. He shook his head and made his way down the stairs. That was a mistake. Gripping at the banister, he had to stop to steady his stomach, and he reflected on his own lack of parenting skills as he waited for it to settle. For that was what he was doing, or failing to do.

For the second time since bringing in Claire, and at least the third for D, he had lost track of them. When was he going to pull it together, and actually act like an adult? He wandered the empty streets, listening as best as he could for any sound of footsteps. Any chattering from an over-excitable child. As he wandered, letting his intuition guide him when sound failed, he wondered what his father would have done in this situation. He had had two children close in age. Yet, Bakura's memory of his father was lacking in the disciplinary sense. Of course, his father had chastised Amane and him before, but even when they were young, he had not been around as much as their mother. Not being available, whether in the sense of guidance or comfort, was not the way Bakura wished to be. So, as he continued, passing through a house that had its door open wide, and noting no one remained in it, he thought on his mother.

Now his mother…his mother knew how to play on their guilt. Not intentionally, or maliciously, but when she was disappointed in her children's actions, they had known. They had regretted. That had been because they had cared, and they knew of her expectations. Did they know what would keep them safe? They had to, he thought to himself, stepping over the threshold of another opened home. They were not stupid. D was a calculating genius for his age, albeit he did lack certain social graces that were entirely unintentional on his part. Claire had been born and raised in a dangerous environment, but she did act as a child would. He wondered if the combination hurt rather than helped them realize the dangers of going out alone. Especially the concept of children going out alone.

He knew that he and his friends had known of dangers, and still dove into world-shaking problems head first, but, damn it, they had been teenagers.

Pausing for a moment to collect himself, as his side was aching madly and only exacerbating his nausea, he assessed his surroundings. He had not gone this way, but clearly, this area had been cleaned out. So much so, that he was aware two children with one bag were not going to be able to account for the loss. Either the people who had been here before had cleared out before they had left, or they were not as alone as he had previously assumed. He had not lied to D about his good feeling, but he was questioning his abilities in reading situations with the way things were currently going. It would have been helpful if he had someone else who was not injured, someone who could help him search when he had to take a break. He sighed, closing his eyes against the night, and waited while his stomach settled.

Unseen clouds inked out parts of the shimmering night sky. From what little light the sliver of moon provided, faint shadows were cast from nearby trees. The chill was sinking into his clothes, entombing him with the feeling of death he was fighting so hard against. Yet, no one would be able to argue the strength of this man's soul. The only bearer of the ring that had not fallen into madness because of it. Bakura's eyes snapped open as he had a thought.

"Diabound," he called out, aware of the danger he was playing with. He might be using his new ally too often, but as he was just too physically tired, he felt that his soul—which still held fire within—could take the brunt of whatever cost it would bring.

The creature formed before him, shimmering against the darkness with its chameleon-like powers. He smiled at it, reaching a hand out to touch the embodiment of his stubbornness; his resolve. No one could know how comforting this being was to him, even as it drained on his soul to exist. To him, it's scales felt as existent as the asphalt beneath his feet, but that was not what he needed right now.

"Find them, and show me where," he commanded, and it moved away with the swiftness he could not muster.

He could still see it as it floated ('Slithered?' Bakura wondered) through the air, and could feel its comforting presence still, even though the distance between them grew. Hopefully, it would be able to reach a reasonable distance before it had to return to him. Otherwise, he might have to keep going, against his better judgement. With the free time he had, he found a seat upon one of the steps of a porch and pulled up his shirt to view his bandages. They seemed to meld with his skin in the poor lighting. Although he had felt cold just minutes before, Bakura sighed in relief. The cool air was inviting, and he amused himself by imagining that the heat coming from him was enough to create steam. Even to his own fingertips, his skin felt hot. "Well, Amane," he chuckled to himself, "I've really done it this time."

Keeping himself out of the encroaching stupor, he focused on things that he could see from his vantage point. There was a particularly long blade of grass beside him, dead, but no less fascinating to look at in his state of mind. There was a garbage can to his left, completely empty. The paint was peeling from the step he rested on. The road he had walked on turned in a gentle curve to a neighborhood that was lined with trees. The beginnings of a forest, maybe, but he could see no further that the tops of the tree-line. If there was one thing he could assess with clarity, it was that the air seemed cleaner, even with all the dead he knew surrounded him. Yet, even for all his attempts, he felt the edges of night slipping away as he rested. The sickness he had felt was slipping from him, and the only discomfort he felt at the moment, was the edge of a porch post digging into his back.

"Hello, stranger," he murmured to his returning companion, a goofy grin on his face. His eyes were drooping. The young man was so tired, and for some reason his perch was even more inviting than his newfound bed had been. "Did you find my children?" he asked, his words slurred. A nap sounded nice.

It said nothing, sitting there before him silent as the night around them, but something inside of him screamed. Bakura's eyes widened, and he gasped in shock, as if he had been slapped. All the agony he had felt before came back in full force, but it was what made him stand and follow the being in front of him. It was as if he had called out to himself before it was too late. His stubbornness apparently overrode even his own bodily shutdown at that moment. How fierce that feeling had been. Being attuned with this being seemed to make him more sensitive to his own emotions, and as he forced one leg in front of the other, he wondered what that would mean for them all in the future.

"Did you find them?" he questioned, coherently this time.

Again, it did not respond; but somehow Bakura knew the answer was no. It had found something, though. Bakura tapped it, realizing he could do far more with this creature than simply send it forth. It picked him up, it's hand covering his existence, and glided back to where it had found something of note. Bakura held his breath as they arrived, unsure of what he would see.

A man was tying up a garbage bag at the back of one of the houses. Bakura watched in silence as the unknown individual completed his work in the darkness, curious as to what he was doing. He was working without any light, so all Bakura was able to note was that he was older, and bespectacled. He still had a full head of hair, but what color that was happened to be unclear. The young man tapped Diabound again, and the being set him on the ground near the stranger, but kept him hidden. It was then that he noted there was someone just ahead of them both. They had their back turned, but motioned for the other to come. It seemed the stranger had been waiting for this signal, and he hoisted up the garbage bag to follow. Only, as he moved, he stepped on a twig. The crack seemed louder in the empty night, but not as loud as the whispers that followed.

Bakura felt all his curiosity drain from him in that instant. He recognized the voices. It was at that moment that he could also feel the powerful aura that exuded from the second stranger. Whatever that was, it was not good. He could not let them be hurt.

And he had faced much more frightening a foe before.

"What are you two foolish little children doing outside so late at night?"

D steeled himself. He had to be strong. Claire needed him to be. Her reflexes would be nothing against this vampire. He began to raise his left hand, knowing that surprise would be the only element of use against such a powerful adversary. No one would suspect what he had planned. He was ready.

That was until he heard a familiar voice.

"Hands in the air," came the cold warning from behind the vampire, and undoubtedly his familiar. There was a click as Bakura readied his gun. D watched as the two adults turned to his friend, the vampire holding a curious expression on his face as he did so.

Bakura was standing in darkness, with a promise of death in his expression. Even though the boy knew the man was ill, could see it, it was eclipsed by the sheer murder held in his eyes. He could feel Claire shaking beside him, and he knew why. It was as if the man had materialized out of thin air, out of the darkness itself. The boy could also feel the reason as to why this had happened as well. There was an aura about them all that rivaled the one of the vampire, if not overtaking it.

"I said, hands in the air," Bakura repeated quietly. D wondered if he would be able to be so calm, giving a command such as that. Little did he know, in time, he would be a force to reckon with on his own merits.

The man beside the vampire did as Bakura asked, clearly afraid. The vampire did not. He only smiled with a sense of assurance; a smile that tried to disarm in its helpful appearance. Bakura did not move, and if this were a bluff to hide his ailment, he was doing well.

"There's no need for this," the vampire began.

"Then step away from them," Bakura countered.

Surprisingly, the vampire did. This only brought him closer to Bakura, however. D was still tense, ready to attack if necessary. The last time they had dealt with vampires, the boy had not been fully prepared. He was in an advantageous spot at present, which was better than before.

"Are they yours?" the vampire inquired.

"Yes," Bakura said. "Now step away."

"Then I extend the question I asked them to you. What are any of you doing up so late?"

This seemed to throw Bakura off. He remained in his position, but to both D and Claire, it was clear something else was on his mind. "I…could ask them the same."

"I am certain you are aware of how dangerous it is?" The vampire's question seemed earnest, and if not fascinated by the possible answer.

"I am aware," Bakura conceded. "Still, stay away from them. And we will stay clear of you."

"But—!" Claire interjected, visibly afraid. She was finally facing the demon's that her parents, and her favored book, had warned of. Only a fool would not understand what was behind those words. 'But why don't you kill them?'

"We have no quarrel with you, dear girl," the vampire said, "and apparently, your…"

"Uncle," Bakura stated, although D caught the waver in his voice. It could be taken as a falsehood, or a moment of weakness. Either way, it could spell for disaster.

The vampire seemed to catch on to it as well. "Hm," he replied, unconvinced. "And the boy?"

"He's his dad!" Claire called out, seeming to recall that Bakura was in no position to be posturing. She was still afraid, but her gun was in a better position for shooting, so it seemed to give her some of her confidence back.

"Oh?" The vampire's eyes swept over the boy's visage. "Well, while I admit whatever trick you are performing is fascinating, it does not explain away the fact that you," he pointed to Bakura, "are clearly not a vampire."

D opened his mouth to corroborate the lie with one of his own, but Bakura seemed to have other ideas.

"I was a family friend before all of this," he snapped, exasperated, neither confirming nor denying what D was. "Why am I always asked this?"

The vampire blinked, surprised. "Wouldn't you be concerned that at least one of the children someone claimed is in their care looks suspiciously unlike them?"

Again, Bakura seemed thrown off. Yet, he kept the gun pointed at his opponent. "Fair enough. I'm more concerned for their safety right now."

"And you let them out?"

"I did not let them out. They made a poor choice and I came to find them."

The sycophantic smile returned. "Why ever would they leave, if they were safe?"

"We were looking for water," Claire said. She did not seem to appreciate how this man was picking on Bakura. It was a far cry from what she had acted like towards the man a few weeks ago. Yet, at this moment, it would only open new questions, ones that would weaken Bakura's position. D glared at her, trying to hint at their need for silence.

"Why? Is he not providing water for you?" The concern seemed genuine.

Claire stepped forward, insulted. "It's not his fault, he—!"

"Claire!" Bakura shouted, stopping her from divulging any further. D grabbed her shoulder, silently hinting that silence was preferable. Bakura seemed at the end of whatever rope he was on, and now his hand was shaking. It was minimal, but more than enough for D and the vampire to note.

"Hey," the man beside the vampire finally spoke. His hands dipped lower as he squinted at Bakura. "I think he's sick."

Bakura's shaking stopped and he threw out his free hand as if to bat at a fly. The vampire's face made an o of surprise as he was flung by an invisible force. D knew what to look for however, and he recognized the strange monster that was following Bakura's every move. It seemed as if, in that short time apart, Bakura had gotten hold of the frightening power that had somehow remained as a residual on him after his strange encounter with the Millennium Items. Claire squeaked in surprise, but did not move from her position.

Bakura's gun was trained on the human, who now stood shaking in fear. If Yugi, Malik, or any of the others who had known him saw him now, they would understand why the other quaked so. It was as if the spirit had returned to life in full force. On the young man's face was a look so cruel, so cold, it could be said that looking into his eyes was like looking into hell itself.

"Don't get any ideas," Bakura warned. "All I want is my family to be safe. Leave us be, and we will leave you, and whoever that man is to you, be."

"You don't have to worry!" The man exclaimed. "It's not what you think! He's just a little…eccentric. He means well!"

"Which is why I'm giving you that option," Bakura said. His tone was serious, but his face seemed to soften. It was the face of the man D knew well. Just marred by a scar that did not fit it, and the exhaustion of his sickness beginning to take hold again. "I'm sorry; we've been having a lot of bad luck when it comes to people lately. Not to mention, he is a vampire. One I don't know."

"He's my father-in-law! Please, I promise he's not what you think! It's not what you think!"

"Your father-in-law?" Bakura asked. Bakura and D's face mirrored an expression of surprise. Claire continued to hold her rifle in a death grip, having wrenched away from the boy. She looked around wildly for the location of where the vampire had disappeared to.

"Yes," the man nodded, "My name is Samuel, by the way. Samuel Johnson. We don't need to be enemies. I can see you're sick. I'm sure you need medicine. We have it. In fact, if you are looking for water, we have it, too!"

Bakura eyed him cautiously. "How can I believe you?"

"Wait. Just wait here for a little bit. I promise that when he comes back, it won't be what you think. He's really a tolerant guy. He won't even blame you for not trusting him, I bet."

"I attacked him," Bakura said flatly. The fight in him was fading, even with his finger still on the trigger as a warning. It seemed that it was not due to trust, but the fact that his illness had him in its grips again.

With what strength he had, he motioned for the children to come to him. They ran past the man, and stood behind their caretaker. That was the moment that D realized just how precarious the situation was. Heat was radiating off Bakura, and he was shivering. How his present condition was not mirrored in his speech was admirable. Even after everything, he was still trying to protect them. The boy did not think he could love the man more.

"Yeah, but you can't have much fight left in you, right? What does he have to worry about?"

Bakura's eyes flashed with anger, and the personification of his spirit emerged from the darkness in its own beautiful and grotesque way. The man fell to the ground in awe and fear, but it was short lived. The young man had pushed himself too far.

The children could not help but cry out in horror as Bakura fell to the ground, unconscious.

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Bakura heard himself shout at the void that surrounded him. It was not just him, but a barrage of voices shouted at him, disappointed and livid. He spun around in alarm. Someone was standing behind him, shrouded in a darkened robe. A frown graced their countenance, and for an instant he thought himself to be chastised by his sister. Yet, he knew his sister would not be here, not when he could feel the eerie presence of a world he was familiar with in hazy recollections. A world brought on by the Millennium Items.

"Am I dead?" he asked.

Dead? He asks if he is dead? The voices around him spoke in derision. The being before him raised a hand and the voices around them silenced. Bakura stood still as the being walked to him, its eyes shrouded by its hood. In that instance, he recognized it. He had spoken to it before, back in Domino.

"Dead? No, dear little fool. Near death." The being shook her head. He could see its form better at this distance, this manifestation of some former acquaintance. "Do you remember me now?"

Bakura shook his head. "You are familiar, but I don't remember who you are."

She sighed (or was it a quiet chuckle?) and motioned around her. "You may not remember me, but the spirits remember you. They still long for justice."

'Spirits?' he wondered, 'Justice?' What was this presence going on about?

"You wanted to see her again, did you not?" The being questioned him, changing the subject. "How are you to continue your quest if you die here, in some nowhere land, thousands of miles from your destination?"

"Where am I going, exactly?" Bakura asked, finally clearheaded enough in this dream-world to recognize that he was being led somewhere, rather than doing any leading.

"Don't ask me silly questions."

Bakura's eyes narrowed. "Why should I trust you? If you are any part of the magic left behind by the Items, then—"

The being laughed. "Then what? Then you won't use the powers granted to you? You'll die like a coward on your knees, unable to protect those precious to you? Oh, how history repeats itself."

The being came to him and touched his face. Bakura could have sworn that he felt both protected, and in the greatest danger of his life. "Little darkness," she crooned. "Stop trying to fight it. You were made for this world; and are backed by those far older than some supercilious demon."

"Who are you?! And what do you mean?!"

"Now is not the time for such inane questions. You have always been so childish, even as you age," Its tone changed, and what was once a familiar female voice became one of many voices of varying ages. "Rest, heal, and stop making such thoughtless mistakes. More than just the two you claim to want to protect are counting on you. Remember your promise, and soon!"

"My promise?" Bakura wondered aloud. To whom? Amane?

Bakura felt the cold around him then, and his body seized. Whatever was going on, he did know one thing as his consciousness of this world faded. He did have people counting on him, and he needed to wake up soon.

D watched the vampire with an evaluative gaze, as he aided Samuel in placing the unconscious man back into bed. He knew there was nothing he could do, and it weighed at his heart, but the least he could do for Bakura was ensure that he was not injured further in the process. Claire was just as scrutinizing of their actions and as foolhardy as she was, if the boy did not keep tabs on her, she might do something to complicate things. At present, they were sitting on the bed they had shared, his right hand over hers. Even as lightly as he was holding it, the girl would have argued his grip was like a vice.

The room was coated in a dim light from a large flashlight that Samuel had been carrying. It rested upon a dresser that was settled upon the wall adjacent to the two beds. The room's pale white walls matched Bakura's pallor, which only added to D's sense of failure. He was too distressed to even consider the ramifications of the older man's newfound powers.

The vampire turned to the two children and shook his head. His chestnut-brown hair wafted around him in a way that frightened the girl for how elegant everything about him seemed. She was clearly distrustful of what others would deem perfection. Her reaction seemed to make him smile, however, even for how stern the rest of his face appeared.

"I can see why you were doing what you did," he said, and the two children's focus settled fully on him. "But as you see, you not only put yourselves in danger, as if it had been anyone else but us, you could have been kidnapped or worse, but you put him in danger. He was in no position to be out there in that cold, no matter his strange gifts. I am shocked that man is still alive."

D could not help but lower his head in a quiet shame. He had only wanted to help. Claire glanced at the boy, and found his gaze lowered. It seemed to incense her, which brought back her bravado. The boy's grip on her hand was the only thing keeping her from jumping to her feet.

"Then what were we supposed to do!?" she snapped. "He's sick! He needs help! Like, you know, water, which we didn't have! If he can't go out, we have to!"

"In the morning, dear girl. You could have waited until morning, at the very least." The vampire hovered over Bakura, checking his vitals after his son-in-law had tucked him in. "What have you all been up to…" He shook his head. Neither of the children could doubt the legitimate concern on his face. Nevertheless, this did not change Claire's disposition.

Samuel seemed to be observing the children, noting their apprehension. "Maybe," he said, "Maybe we should all really introduce ourselves. That way we all don't seem like strangers to each other. Maybe that would help us understand what is going on?" He looked to his father-in-law, his own face expressing concern. "I know you don't have much time for the rest of tonight, anyway."

The vampire nodded, turning to the three. Extending a hand to the two, offering it to whoever would shake it, he smiled. His fangs poked out from between his lips, but for the moment he did not seem dangerous. "My name is Ewan Greylancer. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

D had to hold back a start of recognition. The last name sounded familiar, but he could not place it at the moment. All he could do was extend his own right hand and shake his. His lips remained sealed.

Ewan raised an eyebrow. "Shy?"

He did not know how to respond, or if anything he said would give him away. The man could already sense he was inhuman; he worried that any more information may cause this man to recognize him. No doubt his father had dealings on this continent, even now. When Claire saw D's refusal to speak, she batted his hand away and grabbed onto the vampire's hand to greet him. She was clearly nervous, but it seemed her mind had come up with a plan that would give him time to come up with his own. He played to the vampire's assumption of his shyness, to make use of the time she had given him. D wished he could express how grateful he was.

"My name's Claire Ackermann," she said, her fear making her voice louder than usual. "That's my uncle over there…Ryou Bakura." She glanced at D, her eyes pleading for information if she had gotten the name right. D gave her a small smile. Again, it was very different than her previous name-mocking. With a more confident smile gracing her face, she continued. "He's my uncle on my momma's side, so I don't have his last name. He has a weird accent because he lived in Japan and stuff, while I lived here. Well, not here, but you know…Anyway! He's D," she pointed to him, and the more she spoke the more natural everything seemed. "And he's suuuper shy. Like really, super shy. When we first met, he refused to talk to me for days."

"Is that so?" Ewan asked, kneeling down, making himself closer to her level. Samuel gave the speaking trio a smile, one that spoke of a triumph. He had been right, and they were safe. D remained cautious, and silent. After their most recent failure, and all that happened in the past town, he did not want to make another mistake. Whether that possible mistake was being off-guard or too trusting, he did not want to find out. He glanced back into the gaze of the vampire as he turned his attention back to him. "Is D a nickname?"

"Don't like my name," D replied through clenched teeth. He supposed there was no harm in telling the truth of that. The way he said it also seemed to work on the vampire, especially when the boy lowered his eyes. Perhaps he could feign shy?

'Feign?' his hand thought at him, 'you mean just become aware of it?'

D ignored it as Claire once again spoke for him. "I was always sad to hear he didn't like it, so I always call him by D. It sounds cooler, too…"

"What is your name?" Ewan asked again.

"I'll tell you!" Claire exclaimed, "but you have to promise not to use it!"

The man kneeling before them laughed. "Certainly."

"It's…" She paused for effect, looking at the boy with a vicious grin. D frowned, wondering what she was planning. "Dwight."

D's frown deepened at the absurdity; as if Dwight would be a name he would despise. Nevertheless, it once again worked in their favor. Ewan Greylancer and Samuel both had expressions that showed some sort of knowing look between them. There was no searching gaze from either to assess whether she was telling the truth, either. He could breathe easy when it came to that at least.

"Well, you already know my name," Samuel said, offering his own hand. Both children took turns to shake it. His handshake did not carry the same weight as Ewan's had, and for that the two could breathe a sigh of relief.

"You all seemed to have gone through quite a bit to get here, from the looks of that one," Ewan stated, motioning to the sleeping form of Bakura.

D nodded, but Claire intended on clarifying. "Yeah," she said before letting out a large yawn. "We had to go through a crazy city that was fighting with other people. Got all stuck in it."

"Huh, well I suppose I will need to hear more of that later. Samuel, please help them in any way. The boy will probably require the same attention as Catriona, if my senses are still about me."

"Really?" The man looked to the boy in surprise. D gave him a look of confusion.

"Yes. Once we've relocated my coffin, I will assist you in caring for our new guests. I am very curious to hear about where they come from, and why they have chosen to travel here, of all places."

"Yeah. I'll try to get that done after today."

He smiled at his son-in-law before leaving the room. The children recognized they had a moment of reprieve. One human adult would be far more manageable if anything went wrong. The tension rolled off Claire—her shoulders visibly slumped—and D released his hands that had somehow twisted themselves around each other in a death grip.

"So," Samuel began, tapping the palm of his hands against the sides of his legs. "I'm sure you are tired. You should probably get what rest you can. Don't worry about your uncle, or 'dad', I promise I'll take care of him. And of course, you'll be here to keep an eye on me." He sighed, finally noting in the low light just how young his guests were. His eyes were not as keen as D's or the recently departed Ewan, and while he had noted they were younger, renewed shock was forming on his face again.

"Thank you, sir," D replied quietly. "We should be going to bed, as you said. If he wakes up, could you tell him that we are sorry for making things difficult for him?"

"Yeah," Claire agreed. "We're sorry."

Samuel nodded. "Will do."

The two returned to their bed, both with a careful eye on Samuel. D swore that he would not sleep until he could be sure they were safe. On the other hand, the stress seemed to make sleep easy for Claire, and she was once again flopping around the bed. So much so that D begrudgingly scooted up to have his back rest against the headboard to give her more room to travel in her dreams. With his legs bent to help him keep balance, he attempted to sleep. However, a new thought came to him, and his attention was brought back to Samuel.

The man was resting in a chair he had found in the corner, his glasses still perched on his nose. D's vision could distinguish that his dark hair was graying, and that his age was somewhere in his early 50's. His physique was nothing spectacular, but he was in relatively good shape for the age he was in. His hands were the greatest signifier of his age, cracked from work and the stresses of life. D looked at his own hands, small and undamaged, and knew that even when he was older, they would remain youthful no matter what challenge he was put through. As would everything about him. People like Samuel, Claire, and Bakura, would no longer be with him. He pulled his legs closer to him, looking for the solitary comfort he used to turn to when he had been in his father's care. In that darkened room, he feared the future, wishing that everything could remain as it was. Save for a healthier Bakura.

He felt as if someone was watching him, and his focus returned yet again to Samuel. Concern was obvious, and there was another emotion on his face. One of endless sadness.

"I am sorry, I did not mean to wake you," D said.

"It's fine. You didn't," Samuel replied.

D nodded, and the two sat in awkward silence for a bit. That was, until D could no longer hold in his own childish questions. He seemed to have more in common with Claire than he let himself see. They both were very curious, they just presented it differently.

"Why do you look so sad?" he asked.

"You look pretty sad yourself there, kiddo."

D shrugged. "Worried about Bakura-sama."

"Bakura-sama?"

The boy took in a sharp breath of irritation. "I hold him in high regard, like a father, so I call him that. But since…he's not my biological father…"

"You don't want to call him that?"

"Yeah," D relented. "He's more important to me than that."

Samuel leaned forward in his seat. "Oh?"

"My dad was never around," D said, lying, but not entirely. There had been days where his father had been too busy to pay him any mind. Many of his fondest memories did not have him in them at all. It was not as if he did not have any fond memories of the man; if anything, it made his hatred boil because he knew of what they could have had, if his father was not so bent on whatever dream he had his eyes on.

"So, your mom took care of you mostly?"

"Yeah." His eyes began to sting. He wiped at them roughly as he tried to hold his composure. He had refused to think about his mother for so long. He had loved her like no other in the world, and he had only shared his deepest sadness and longing to have her back with Bakura, back at his father's compound. He doubted the other remembered much, it had been during a very stressful time for the young man, but that sharing had made it so the boy had trusted Bakura enough to follow him this far in the world. Now here he was, about to spill all to someone he barely knew. "She died. Because of my father."

Samuel stood, walked to where the boy was seated, and placed a compassionate hand on the top of his head. D tried to regulate his breathing as he did not want to cry in front of him. "I'm sorry that happened," Samuel said to him. "It probably makes it hard to see…Bakura…in this way, then?"

D nodded, willing his face not to scrunch in sorrow, but failing. He sniffed as tears started to fall unabated from his eyes. "I didn't mean to make it worse…"

"I doubt it was your fault, kiddo."

"It is," he whispered, "All of this is." He whimpered into his hands before pressing his forehead to his knees. "I should have never been born. My mother must have been happier before that. I know Bakura-sama was happier in his life before I was in it. I'm a monster, I'm a monster…"

"Hey," Samuel said, his voice quiet but sharp. He grabbed the boy's shoulders and shook them, just enough to garner the boy's attention. "You aren't a monster. I don't know what's been going on with your life up until now, but I do know you aren't a monster. It doesn't matter what or who you were born as, no one is ever born a monster. You are just a kid being a kid. Kids shouldn't feel like the adult's problems are theirs to fix, anyway. Now calm down, you don't want to wake up your friend, do you?"

D shook his head. While he did slow his breathing, he still could not get the images that he had called forth out of his mind. "The world is so different than what I…" 'Imagined,' he thought, before saying, "If we don't pick up the problems of the adults when they need help, how is anyone going to survive?"

"That's not…" Samuel sighed, "Kiddo, D, what I meant was that you should never be sorry for who you are, and adults shouldn't put themselves in situations where the kids need to be in charge."

"It wasn't his fault!" D exclaimed, his eyes narrowing. Claire kicked at him in her sleep, but continued to snore lightly. Samuel nodded to her as a reminder and the boy lowered his voice. "It wasn't. We were attacked, and he got hurt, and got us out of there. He didn't want to tell us how bad it was because he didn't want to scare us."

"But you knew."

"Of course, I knew," the boy said. He had no intention of divulging any particulars on the subject. "Eventually, I knew it was worse."

Sighing, Samuel ruffled D's hair, not unlike the times that Bakura had. "You don't trust me yet, I can tell. So, you'll probably not want to hear what I've gotta say about anything I don't fully know about. But that's fine. That's smart, and I can't blame you for it. Just know that I don't think you are a monster." He looked outside at the coming dawn and yawned. "But what does this old fogey know. Anyway, I'm going to sleep, now. Right in that chair over there. You can see me, right?"

D nodded, unsure of what he was going on about. It was an odd question. Of course he could see him. He had eyes. Eyes that worked well.

The man could see his confusion, and chuckled. "If I make any funny moves, you have a great view of where I am from where you're sleeping, and could probably stop me. By the way, it's sweet that you're letting her hog up the bed like that." He pointed to the girl who was diagonal on the bed. Her usual sleeping arrangement, at least until she decided she wanted to be parallel with the top of the bed.

That made the boy offer the most tentative of smiles. "She would do it, regardless."

Samuel chortled again. "Well, goodnight."

"Goodnight," D replied. He was about to close his eyes when another question popped into his mind. He had forgotten the original one, since Samuel had diverted it into something about him. "Sir? Mr. Johnson?"

"You can call me Samuel, or Sam, if you'd prefer."

"Samuel," The name felt strange on his tongue. It had taken a while to get used to calling Yugi by his first name when they had met; it had only been easy because Bakura had been familiar with him before. "Who was Catriona? What did he mean by my requiring the same attention?"

The sadness returned to the man's face. "Catriona was my wife. She was a dhampir, like you."

D's eyes widened. He had met strange creatures that he could recall in his short lifetime, but there were few dhampirs that could ever have expressed to knowing. Even less still, humans that had known them, or known them enough to marry. From the whispers and discussions that the boy had been privy to, it seemed that most vampires detested the half-breeds. He had just assumed that Catriona had been another vampire. "Was?" he could not help but ask. What had befallen the pair that Samuel would refer to their relationship in the past tense?

"Let's save our long-winded stories for another day, okay kiddo? Maybe when this guy over here wakes up. That way we can all just tell our stories once."

Nodding, D watched as the man closed his eyes and fell into a doze, while he found sleep to be the furthest thing from his mind. He tugged up the covers around the lower half of his body, resituating them on his bed partner to do so, and reflected on what he had just learned about their newest acquaintances. He pondered harder on why the vampire's last name held any meaning to him.

Who exactly had they all run into?