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Disclaimer: The bleach boys belong to Tite Kubo, not to me. I just decided to make them do all sorts of fun and kinky things when I managed to steal them...

Warnings: Blood, vampires, wereanimals, violence, dub-con, angst, and yaoi (m/m) scenes of an explicit nature.

Summary: Ichigo is a human Hunter; someone who hunts down and kills the Nightbeasts who prey on mankind. Few humans have the power and speed to survive against these supernatural creatures, but Ichigo soon comes to question everything he's been taught about them when he meets Ulquiorra and Grimmjow. Strangely these two – who should be at each other's throats – share a long-tern contract of a surprising nature, and they're both willing to extend the same protection to him, if he's willing to join them. Now Ichigo must choose between the Reapers; god-like beings who claim to be guardians of the human race, and the beasts who refuse to give up their homes, or lives for the sake of the weakest race in the world.

A/N: My first Bleach fic! I know there will be some OOCness, and I expect there to be numerous mistakes, so feel free to point them out for me. This will be multi-chaptered, but I don't know yet how long (or frequent) it's going to be. I'm working from a single idea that I felt compelled to extrapolate on, and I can only hope the plotbunnies keep up with me.

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Blurring Boundaries

Kurosaki Ichigo pressed his back to the nearest tree, closed his eyes, and listened intently to the forest around him. A task that he'd have found a million times easier if not for the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears. Breathing as calmly as possible under the circumstances, he strained his hearing to the limit, but still couldn't figure out where that damned aura was coming from.

Everyone else had disappeared back to wherever-the-hell they came from – and where Ichigo was not welcome – for some sort of strategy meeting. 'Everyone' being the newest additions to his social circle. They'd told him little about themselves, other than to deny accusations of being gods, or angels, though he could easily believe either notion after having seen the kinds of magic they wielded as though it was nothing. Still, if not for his own surprisingly powerful 'gift' he'd have been ignored, or worse; killed. No mortal was supposed to know the things he now knew, and it meant he had to be careful about which humans he trusted, too. Anyone could potentially be a Nightbeast. A walking terror.

So while they were all off stroking their egos over how smart they were, and how all-powerful their race supposedly was, Ichigo could be found stuck in the middle of the god-forsaken forest, chasing after the creatures who'd attacked yet another of the townsfolk he'd known his entire life. All he had to defend himself with was a large sword named Zangetsu that he'd only recently discovered how to summon, and the ability to sense auras, which might have been more helpful if he understood how to tell where the crazy auras were coming from before he was jumped by their owners.

A howl pierced the night, the eerie sound of it sending a shiver down his spine. There hadn't been an actual wolf in these woods for more generations than he cared to think about, and though that knowledge was relatively new to him, it still left him cold. It was too close, too excited, for him to relax at all. Ichigo couldn't tell where the owner of that lone voice was, or how many of the beasts were nearby.

Not knowing was never a good thing.

A rustling to his left was the only warning he got before the first of the werewolves made itself known. The snarling, salivating mouth narrowly missed severing his head from his shoulders, but Ichigo had mastered the art of ducking long before his 'gift' had turned up. Brown eyes opened as Ichigo twisted to the side, knees bent and a single hand pressed into the soft mulch of rotting vegetation, he readied himself as he waited for his boot to touch a furred underbelly. In seconds he was able to push up and outwards. The wolf flew through the air, it's leap redirected with little finesse.

There was time to rise into a defensive crouch before the wolf struck a thin tree. Too flimsy to take the impact the wood crunched, snapping loudly as the top collapsed to the ground, dark foliage making a loud crashing sound which blocked the noise of the second wolf entirely.

Instinct made Ichigo lift Zangestsu's blade like shield just in time to protect his body, the wide length able to deflect the brunt of the attack, though the enemy's momentum slammed him backward into the rough bark of the tree he'd been resting against. Pain exploded through his back and shoulders, the numbing sensation travelling down his arms so that he had to fight to keep his grip on Zangetsu's hilt.

Teeth gritted, his lips peeled back in a vicious snarl, Ichigo struggled against the urge to collapse under the strain on his body. If he'd learned anything during recent battles it was that this pain was nothing in comparison to what he could take. To give in was to admit defeat, and Ichigo was not going to die here and leave his family and friends defenceless. That was simply unacceptable.

"You god-damned bastards," Ichigo growled out. The words a form of defiance. A refusal on his part to admit his own vulnerability. "Sneaking up on me like that, did you think that'd be enough to kill me?"

"Of course not, puny human," a rumbling voice responded.

But where? Ichigo felt his eyes widen as he glanced about in every direction. There were only trees and werewolves, three now he noted absently, wherever he looked. Someone had to have said that, right? So where the hell were they hiding?

There was a woofing snort, and Ichigo set his shocked gaze on the newest addition to the wolves.

"Figured it out, have you?" Sharp canines flashed as the animal's lips moved in a disturbingly human fashion. The wolf's voice was condescending in it's amusement. "Good for you."

How many times had these creatures dismissed his abilities because of his race? Ichigo had lost count, but it never failed to irritate him. It was disrespectful to look down on him for being human, "Don't you dare mock me!"

"Such bravado, and in a situation that will surely result in your death. How very true to form," the wolf eyed him a moment, then trotted closer. As he did so – for the voice was definitely masculine – another, smaller wolf appeared from behind him. Pale, silvery fur covered the new werewolf, contrasting greatly with the others who were all dark shades of brown or possibly black. "I really would rather have you scurry along home you know, but I fear leaving you alive will be detrimental to my pack."

"Your pack," Ichigo spat the word out like it was a curse, "tried to kill my friend."

"Ah, I see. Unfortunately these things do happen, for I cannot be expected to control every move made by every member of my pack, every minute of every day," the furry head tilted to one side. "I can however make this relatively painless, if you let me?"

"I'm not going to lose to the likes of you!"

"Too bad you have been tainted by those holier-than-thou Reapers, I think you would have made a lovely addition to our little family."

"Heyyy, Starrk," the small wolf called out in a feminine-sounding voice. "Are you sure he's one of them? He doesn't smell like a Reaper."

Sniggering broke out between the two other wolves, and Starrk shot them a lazy-assed glare that brought instant silence, then turned back to his slender companion. "What do you expect? He's at least part human, Lilynette. Bound to smell funny."

"Wha?" The tiny wolf stared at Ichigo as though he were some sort of freak in a circus tent, before she whined a complaint; "But he doesn't smell human, either!"

Ichigo froze, confused. No matter which way he looked at it he had to be human. "You guys are crazier than my old man."

Four sets of gleaming wolf eyes fixed on him with an intensity he wasn't sure he liked. They were too close, and he still didn't know if this was the entire pack or not.

"You've dodged us twice, boy. No human, even a gifted one, could move that fast," Starrk informed him in a hard tone. "They tell you not to go after us alone?" At Ichigo's reluctant nod Starrk gave him a pointed look. "So why'd you think they did that, huh? 'Cause it sure as hell wasn't because they thought you could take on a group of us and come out of it alive."

Ichigo disagreed with that statement, instead believing it had more to do with the fact he'd hardly learned how to do much more than hack at his enemies with Zangetsu. If he told the wolf that it would only confirm his stupidity in running off into the forest in the middle of the night. Alone. Without the training to actually be effective at eradicating the vermin. This could very well be a kamikaze mission, after all, and if it turned out that way he was planning on taking out as many of these creatures as he could first. Having lost his mother when he was a child because he'd been too weak to save her from the monsters, he wasn't about to lose the rest of his family to them, too.

But he wasn't planning on sacrificing himself like that either. Ichigo knew how hard his mother's death had been on his father, and his sisters.

An unnatural calm settled over him at the thought of abandoning everyone. Dying was not an option. Driving away the threat to Karakura Town, and saving everyone he cared about was more than a desire, or goal; it had become his vocation.

A grin slowly curved Ichigo's lips as he once more set his shoulders, legs spread to balance his weight, and his fingers found a more comfortable grip around Zangetsu's hilt. The werewolves noticed the shift in his demeanour, and fell into low, dangerous stances of their own.

One second passed, then another. Muscles tensed. Ichigo tried to concentrate on his breathing, and the connection he had with their auras. Now was not the time to panic.

Zangetsu moved – almost of his own accord – as the first wolf leapt forward with a growl.

Then it was pandemonium.

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There was a strange, cloying scent on the air, mixed in with the familiar musk of wolf. That in itself was enough to gain Grimmjow's attention, but it was the sound of fighting which drew him through the trees toward the nearest human settlement with an eagerness he had no intention of containing. There was nothing better than a good fight, and he wasn't much bothered which side he ended up on, either, so long as he got to exert himself. At least a little.

That was the problem with being one of the strongest supernatural beings alive; a lack of real competition. The only one he knew who'd even spar with him any longer was Ulquiorra, but the damned vampire had a stick up his ass a mile long, so those rare occasions when he'd deign to lower himself to Grimmjow's level were few and far between since Aizen's death. Aizen hadn't even been one of them, but he'd led armies of Hollows against the forces of their sworn enemies, the Reapers, all in the name of justice.

Not that Grimmjow had given a shit about that. After so long being idle he'd originally jumped at the chance of bashing a few heads in, and maybe munching on the entrails of those murdering bastards. Unlike most of the others who'd fought alongside him, he'd never trusted the turncoat Reaper with his gifts and promises. Anyone who'd lived long enough knew that civilisations rose and fell, organisations twisted and crumbled as their ideals morphed into unrecognisable bullshit, and Grimmjow had lived several lifetimes longer than most. In the end he'd expected Aizen's treason to ooze over their allies as much as their enemies, and he'd stuck around only because Ulquiorra was fascinated with Aizen. Someone had to have the vampire's back. If it wasn't Grimmjow, and something happened to the annoying idiot, he'd have never forgiven himself.

The sound of tearing meat snapped Grimmjow's attention back to the forest around him. Up ahead there was some sort of altercation happening, and at least one side involved in it was an old friend. Maybe if he was quick enough he could help sway the balance one way or the other.

Anything to get the blood pumping through his veins again.

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Ichigo drew himself up once more. All of his weight was leaning on Zangetsu as he panted for breath. The werewolves had spread out, and he understood the tactic; if they could completely surround him then he'd have no chance. No one could be expected to defend themselves from every direction at once. Eventually he'd tire, make a mistake, and they'd have him. They didn't even need to put much effort into their attacks.

Angling a glare at the leader, who was watching him with deceptively sleepy eyes, Ichigo once more dodged the coordinated series of lunges, narrowly missing claws, and teeth. As it was he'd already received several cuts and scrapes, but thankfully none were directly inflicted. Just a small amount of damage done by those dangerous weapons held the risk of Turning him, if not outright poisoning him. There were antidotes available, but it was never a guaranteed cure, and as such was not to be relied on.

It was one of the risks he took by being human in this war against the Nightbeasts. If mankind was to survive at all, they had to drive these monsters from their world, or find some kind of peace. Not that peace was likely.

A yelp followed a particularly close call as Ichigo managed to slice through thick fur and cut into a wolf's side, but the tension only increased as the rich, coppery scent of blood hit the air. The night became a blur of brown and green, of snarls and claws, and Ichigo lost track of everything as he struggled to stay alive. There was no time to acknowledge the fatigue that threatened to slow his arms and legs. No chance to control his breathing, or think about pain, or worry when a set of teeth sank into the flesh of his leg before he sliced through the offender's neck. Tomorrow would be soon enough to panic over what might happen next full moon.

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Starrk, Lilynette, and a couple of newish additions to their pack were facing off against a stranger when Grimmjow finally got close enough to see. Prowling through the branches of the surrounding trees, the werepanther eyed the scene warily, wondering if Starrk had developed a sadistic streak in the couple years since they'd last met. What other reason would he have not killed the ginger-haired Reaper already?

Damned things were the bane of everyone's existence. It wasn't even as if they had to live here. They had the city of Seireitei to hide in, deep within the earth's core, which was protected by their magic and perfectly safe from the greed of mankind. The Hollows had only the land they managed to hold onto as the race of man spread over the land like a plague, poisoning everything from the air to the animals and plant-life. Nothing was safe, and the damned Reapers refused to understand, or care. They'd long been disgusted by the base needs and actions Hollows lived by, blinded by their own sense of superiority.

Teeth bared at the thought, Grimmjow came to rest on a wide branch several metres downwind from the group. If this particular Reaper looked to be winning, he'd be more than happy to pitch in with the wolves, but something cautioned him to wait and watch first. A creature of instinct, Grimmjow crouched, his gaze locked on the bright-haired man with interest.

There was just something about this Reaper, something not quite right. In time he might even work out what it was.

The fighting was fast and furious. Almost fast enough to draw Grimmjow out of his tree and into the fray. The man was strong, but he didn't seem to know how to wield that strength. Was he some sort of raw recruit? Grimmjow had never heard of such a thing before, but there didn't seem to be any other explanation for all of the moves the Reaper should have made, and failed to. His reaction time was incredible, though, mostly making up for his lack of skill as he swung his Zanpakuto around like it was some kind of flail.

"Give it up, human, your time has come," Starrk called out, and Grimmjow nearly tumbled from his perch in surprise. That thing was human? How the hell did he have one of those magic swords, then? And what the fuck was up with his power levels?

Human my ass, Grimmjow thought to himself.

There was a disturbance in the air, and Grimmjow glanced up at the sky in time to watch a large bat-like creature flit down toward the fight. The newcomer's arrival paused everything as sorrowful green eyes took their time examining the human. Or Reaper. Or whatever the hell the ginger-haired man was.

"This is not your territory, Starrk," Ulquiorra commented without emotion. If Grimmjow didn't know the man so well he'd have thought he was simply stating facts. However the way Ulquiorra stood there his bat-form having fallen away, eyes never leaving the human as he addressed the werewolf, screamed irritation.

"I came to collect my wolves and discovered this pest in the process," Starrk drawled, then sat back on his haunches. His tongue lolled out of his mouth in something of a canine grin.

"Then you may leave," Ulquiorra informed him. "I will dispose of this trash myself."

"Hey!" The human hefted his over-sized sword and rested it against his shoulder. "I'm not letting those murdering bastards walk away after what they did to Orihime."

Ulquiorra veritably shivered with indignation at having been addressed in such a fashion, and Grimmjow dropped down from his tree to pad closer at the sight. If the human kept up like that he'd soon be nothing more than a corpse, and Grimm wasn't sure why, but he was suddenly interested in preventing that.

"Silence, trash."

"Oh lay off the guy, you'd be up in arms too if someone pulled that shit on me," Grimmjow drawled out as he stepped into their view with a nod at Starrk and a wink for Lilynette.

"Are you defending his actions?" Surprise turned Ulquiorra to face Grimmjow as he padded closer.

"Look at him," Grimmjow needlessly indicated the human with his head, as the squawking started up again, "Does he look like a threat to anyone? He's human enough to be useless in a fight, either he's a fool or... he was defending his own."

"As you say."

"Don't worry stranger, Starrk's gonna beat the shit outta those bad wolfies. I doubt ya'll see 'em again, and' they'll certainly never be stupid enough ta go after your little friends," Grimmjow grinned, taking in the anger blazing in dark, chocolate brown eyes.

"I'm Kurosaki Ichigo," he paused, then, "How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"Ya don't," laughed Grimmjow, before moving close enough to get a good whiff of the man's scent. Definitely not human, or not entirely so. "I'm Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, an' the batman wannabe is Ulquiorra Schiffer. Why don't ya hop it boy, while the grown-ups have a little talk about why stepping on other people's toes is a big no-no?"

The guy's snapped out 'Bite me,' was a tempting proposition, but Grimmjow had more important things to think about. Maybe later.

"You are not letting him leave," Starrk growled just as Ulquiorra shook his head with a murmured, "Unacceptable."

Grimmjow pressed closer to Ichigo's leg, chuckling as it made the other back up, "Oh c'mon, when was the last time something this interesting turned up?"

The growl turned feral as Starrk glared across the space between them, "Aizen."

Just the one word, a name, and Ulquiorra was baring fangs at them all. Grimmjow shook his head with a sigh, shooting a look at the idiot for mentioning the vampire's one big mistake.

"This one don't have the guile ta be another Aizen," Grimmjow purred, nuzzling closer still to the leg nearest him. The most intoxicating scent was all over the guy, as though he'd sprayed himself with 'Hollow Attract'. Ichigo was frozen solid, his eyes darting back and forth as he tried to follow what they were talking about. "I say we keep 'im."

Stiffening further, Ichigo lowered the point of his big-assed sword to rest against Grimmjow's muzzle, just between his eyes. "I'm not a pet."

"And you want to let him live, Grimmjow?" Ulquiorra asked in a dry tone.

"Whatever," Starrk suddenly interjected with a yawn, "I'm heading home. I've got too much to do before the sun comes up as it is, and I want to get another nap in before then."

"I don't know why I tolerate any of you to live," Ulquiorra complained in a slightly peeved tone, but he made no move to kill Ichigo, or stop the werewolves from leaving.

"What about those two? Orihime could be like you next week because of them," Ichigo lifted his chin stubbornly.

Starrk paused, looked back at the human male, then shrugged his shoulders. There was a blur of movement then; Starrk and Lilynette moving as one. The two offenders never had a chance before the older, and much more powerful, werewolves had ripped their throats out. The bodies hit the ground with soft thuds, before decaying so fast it appeared as though they'd turned to dust.

"I'll come back to collect her if she turns," Starrk finally offered, his eyes strangely alert as they met Ichigo's. "If you don't want anyone else to have an accident before then I suggest you lock her up well before the full moon rises."

"I'm not handing one of my friends over to you just because one of yours infected her!" Ichigo denied hotly even as Starrk ignored him and carried on his way. Grimmjow laughed at the childishness of it, his head resting against the rough material of a pant leg. "What the hell are you laughing at?"

"T'would be fucking stupid ta keep one a us 'round ordinary humans during the first few changes when they have no control, dontcha think?"

At the sudden, uncertain silence, Grimmjow moved away and turned to face Ulquiorra who was watching them both with something like speculation in his expression. "Whataya say we let 'im go home an' check up on 'is friend?"

"You will be the one to deal with him should he become too dangerous to keep alive," Ulquiorra replied at long last.

"Don't I get a say in this at all?" Ichigo snapped out angrily.

With real amusement at the spunk this guy displayed, Grimmjow shook his head, then – in an unprecedented display of compassion – he met Ichigo's infuriated gaze. "Go see if she's gonna be okay. Ya now one a us, so ya'll be safe enough once I get the word out. Just don't be stupid enough ta tell them Reapers, 'cause they'll kill ya fer it."

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"I dunno if I wanna eat 'im, or fuck 'im," Grimmjow drawled out a little while later, his azure eyes and sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight. His companion arched an eyebrow, not even bothering to glance away from the path Ichigo had disappeared along to look at the werepanther.

"Must you be so vulgar?" The cultured tones of Ulquiorra's voice barely rose above a whisper as he contemplated the unexpected situation; they'd let a human Hunter walk away unscathed. It remained to be seen if he could be trusted, no matter how surprising – and incredibly stupid – his words.

Beside the unnaturally still vampire, the panther flexed his claws into the soft earth underfoot, "Heh, he's gotten ta ya too, ain't he?"

Dark hair fluttered as Ulquiorra turned at last, his piercing green eyes meeting blue. The forest quieted even further as though holding it's collective breath against the possibility of a death match breaking out between the two powerful creatures. Only the sound of Grimmjow's bone-like armour clinking as he settled once more broke the stillness.

"Trash is not worth killing," Ulquiorra murmured, the air suddenly shimmering around him as he switched to his bat-form. Using his legs for leverage, the winged man took flight with a snap of the leathery membranes.

"Does that mean ya wanna fuck 'im, then?" The panther called out with amusement. Though there was no answer he knew his friend well enough to know that remark had rattled him. Usually so very careful of every word and phrase that passed his cold, dead lips, Ulquiorra would be kicking himself over that particular slip for months to come.

Alone now in the night with only the mess left behind from the previous skirmish, Grimmjow glanced up at the overcast sky. That Ichigo guy was the most interesting thing he'd discovered in longer than he cared to think about. His scent lingered in the air; as sweet as strawberries with just a hint of something spicy. A shiver shot down his spine as Grimmjow inhaled deeply to make sure he'd remember it, the over-sized cat closed his eyes for a long moment. Oh yeah, one way or another he was going to have that young man squirming under him, and soon.