Chapter 1: Humans And Monsters

The poison flooded through his veins—contaminating, excruciating, and changing— as he convulsed, choked, and screamed in pain. He heard laughter in the distance as he was left alone to die—no, not to die; that would be merciful compared to this. He cried out but no one could hear him as he shook violently on the cold, hard ground of the alleyway. He felt one more searing pain shoot through every inch of his body until it reached his chest and he blacked out, gratefully sinking out of consciousness.

Blaine wakes up with a gasp, clutching tightly to the sheets of his small bed. He takes a deep breath to calm himself. It's been a while since he's indulged in sleeping, and he now remembers why he stopped. The nightmares. They always come, even after so many years, and he can never quite get over the terror of the night he was bitten.

With a sigh, Blaine sinks back into his blankets and stares at the ceiling. It can get really boring never having to sleep.

He startles when he hears his bedroom door open, looking over to see Elliott standing there and watching Blaine worriedly. Blaine immediately starts apologizing. "I'm sorry—I was trying to sleep again—I forgot—"

"It's fine," he says, smiling reassuringly. Blaine relaxes a little. "I get the nightmares, too. That's why I don't sleep anymore."

Blaine nods. "I guess I just forgot how bad they were. I thought I could handle it but it's—"

"I know," Elliott says and Blaine smiles. "I think I know just what you need."

"Elliott," Blaine warns, frowning. "I told you, I can't—"

"It's not that," he says. "I get it, especially after seeing exactly what Justin and Alec can do. I'm trying to stop, myself, so don't worry." Blaine nods, but he's still confused. It must show on his face because Elliott smiles and turns on the light, making Blaine wince. "Get up. We're going for a walk and I'm taking you out to have some real fun."

Elliott throws his jacket at him—not that he needs it, but it's the middle of December in New York City; it would look a little suspicious if he walked around in shorts and a t-shirt all the time—and Blaine laughs, following his best friend out the door and into the city streets.

"Tonight, the city is ours, my friend," Elliott tells him, throwing an arm over Blaine's shoulders easily. Blaine grins at him and thinks that, for the first time in years, he might actually have some fun.

Elliott says they're about five minutes away from wherever he's taking them when Blaine hears a shout from nearby. On instinct, he dashes towards the sound, ignoring Elliott's warnings to come back. "Blaine! People will see you!"

Blaine rounds the corner and gasps a little. A man is being mugged by three taller, bulkier men who keep shoving him back and forth like a game of hot potato. "Hey!" Blaine shouts without thinking. It's not like they can hurt him, but he does try to stay somewhat inconspicuous. Two of the guys look his way while the third is still trying to snatch his victim's coat and wallet. "Leave him alone!" Blaine snaps before moving forward. He shoves the two guys out of the way—not enough to actually hurt them, but just to let them know he isn't going to be shoved around. This catches the third's attention and he finally lets the man fall to the ground before turning to Blaine.

"Mr. Tough Guy trying to save little Miss Helpless over here," he laughs, clearly drunk. Blaine scowls and lunges forward, shoving the man backwards into the wall just hard enough to knock him out for a bit. He's had centuries of practice to learn how to hurt without killing or maiming.

Blaine turns his attention to the stranger sitting on the ground against the wall, trembling as he pulls his coat tighter around himself. "Are you cold?" Blaine asks. The man nods and Blaine instantly sheds his jacket, handing it over. The blue-eyed stranger eyes him carefully before taking the offering.

"Thank you," he whispers.

"Do you—uh, can I walk you home or something? You seem… shaken up, I guess."

The man nods, tentatively accepting Blaine's hand and using it to pull himself up. "W-What's your name?"

"Blaine," he says with a smile.

The man just nods again and doesn't say anything. He leads the way as Blaine walks him back to his apartment. Then they stand outside the door awkwardly. "Umm…" Blaine says.

"Thank you for saving me," he says with a genuine smile.

Blaine shrugs, smiling as well. "Anyone would've done it."

"No, most people would've turned and walked the other way to avoid trouble," he says and Blaine's smile fades a little. Sadly, he knows this all too well. "Anyway, I should get inside. My roommate is probably worried."

"Can I at least get your name?" Blaine asks hopefully.

The stranger laughs, his eyes sparkling. "Maybe next time. I have a feeling we'll be seeing each other around."

Blaine deflates a little, trying not to pout. "Okay. Well… Until next time, I suppose."

"Until next time," he agrees, smiling before disappearing into his loft apartment.

Blaine sighs and walks downstairs, gasping when Elliott suddenly joins his stride from behind. He still hasn't gotten used to just how stealthy his best friend is. "Geez, Ell, warn a guy," he says with an exasperated laugh.

Elliott doesn't return the laugh like he normally would. Instead he glares at Blaine. "You better not fall for him."

"Ell, I—"

"No. He's a human, Blaine," he hisses, lowering his voice in the crowded sidewalks. "If you lose control and hurt him—"

"It's been two hundred years, Elliott," Blaine snaps. "I can control it. Not that it matters because I'm not going to fall for him. Stop pretending to be my parent. We're the same age; we were turned on the very same night, even! Trust me; I just want to be his friend. You know how long it's been since I've had friends other than you and Bailey? It's been seventy-five years, Elliott. That's too long to be spent in that lonely apartment eating nothing but whatever you bring home."

"Fine, I get it," Elliott sighs. "Just… please be careful. We both remember what happened with me and Jes."

"I know," Blaine nods. "I'm not going to hurt him. We aren't Newborns anymore. I can control myself and so can you."

Elliott nods, still not entirely comfortable with it. "Fine. I trust you. Like I said, just be careful."

Blaine smiles a little. "I will." He knows Elliott cares about him. He knows he's only trying to protect Blaine from the same kind of heartache and regret that Elliott still suffers from despite the one hundred fifty years that have passed since the incident with Jes, Elliott's love and almost-fiancé.

They walk home together in silence. It isn't a feeding night, even for Elliott, so they plop down on the couch as soon as they get home, turning on the TV to find some background noise.

"I wouldn't blame you if you did end up falling for him," Elliott whispers after a while, his tired eyes trained on the TV without actually watching. Blaine looks over at him, waiting for him to continue. He sees rather than hears Elliott let out a quiet, shuddering breath. "I couldn't help it with Jes. It just… happened. I knew it was a bad idea but I didn't care. And I knew I couldn't hide the secret from him forever but it didn't feel like it mattered as long as I could have him. Then he proposed and…" Elliott closes his eyes, pausing for a moment. "That night, I just lost control. We were… celebrating," he says with a humorless laugh. "And he got too close and he smelled so good and… I bit him. I heard him screaming but it was like I wasn't me. And I couldn't stop. I didn't stop… until it was too late for him to even turn. I like to think that a part of me was trying to save him, because who would want to live like this? But the truth is I couldn't control this… this hunger, this monster inside me."

"Does that happen every time?" Blaine asks quietly.

Elliott finally looks at him, confused. "What?"

"The… the thing where you feel like it isn't you," Blaine clarifies. Elliott considers it for a moment before nodding.

"Why?"

"I just… I never want to feel like that," Blaine says. "I might be a monster, but I'm not going to lose myself. If I become just like any other monster like Alec, not caring who I'm hurting or how, then I might as well have just died in that alley two hundred years ago. I don't want to become so numb that I just don't care about anything but hunting."

Elliott nods. "I get that. That's why I'm trying to stop. It's a good thing we know Bailey, huh?"

Blaine laughs a little, smiling. "Yeah. I'd probably starve if she didn't steal pints of O-negative from the hospital for me a couple nights a week. Especially now that you aren't bringing home very much nowadays."

"Like I said, I'm trying to quit," Elliott says with a smile. "It just doesn't kill the urge as much when it isn't fresh."

Blaine frowns and Elliott drops the subject. He knows Blaine is uncomfortable with him hunting, even if it doesn't happen as often as it used to.

After that, they go to their own rooms. Blaine lies on his back in the middle of his bed, staring up at his ceiling and trying to make a maze out of the random patterns in the unevenly-painted wood. He doesn't mean to, but he falls asleep again, slipping into the familiar nightmare.

It was 1814 when Blaine's life changed forever. It was a cold December night in New York. The war with the British had just come to a close and Blaine had just come from a Christmas party that was duly an event to celebrate the stalemate between the two nations.

Blaine was walking home, hands stuffed in his coat pockets to keep out the biting chill of the winter air, and he decided to take a short cut just to get out of the cold a little bit faster. He turned to cut through a long alleyway that would save him the trouble of walking at least five blocks. Just before he could reach the exit and return to the main street, he felt a rough and strong hand grip his wrist, yanking him back. He gasped and before he knew it, he was being pressed against the wall, warm breath tickling his nose.

"Good evening, handsome," the man holding him captive said with a sly grin. The rest of his face was obscured in the darkness, but Blaine could plainly see his mouth. He could see the way his teeth glinted in the moonlight, and was he just imagining things or were the man's canine teeth growing sharper at the edges? He shook his head, heart pounding.

"P-Please, get off of me, sir," he asked. "I was just walking home."

"But you seem so lonely," the man cooed. "And a pretty face like yours shouldn't be alone."

Blaine tried to push the man away from him but then he felt warm breath on his neck. Before he could even register that the man had moved he felt the man biting him. Hard. Then Blaine was screaming. Screaming, crying, and grunting as he was shoved roughly to the ground. "P-P-Plea…" was all he could mutter before he screamed in pain again.

"See you later, sweetheart," the stranger laughed, kneeling down in a flash of light and sinking his teeth into each of Blaine's wrists and the other side of his neck. Blaine let out a scream of pure agony, but it was muffled a split second later by the stranger tying a handkerchief painfully tight around his face. "It was a pleasure. You'll thank me later, I assure you."

Blaine bolts up in his bed, hand flying to his mouth to muffle his scream. He can almost feel the poison racing through his veins and sending stabbing needles and liquid fire throughout his convulsing body. He can hear the echo of the terrible stranger's laugh and his gravelly voice.

"Elliott," he says brokenly. Elliott's at his bedside in mere seconds, wrapping him up in his arms until he settles down. "I didn't mean to sleep… That was the worst it's been since the first few days after I turned."

"Shh, it's okay," Elliott says, soothing his shaken friend. "It's okay."

Maybe it could be a good idea for Blaine to make more friends. He needs something to occupy his time; his thoughts, his dreams. He needs someone… alive.

The next day, while Elliott is having lunch with Bailey, Blaine decides to go to his favorite coffee shop. Coffee is one of the few human foods/drinks that Blaine actually likes, so he takes advantage of the chance to feel like a normal person for once.

Just as he's getting in line, he tenses up and tries not to inhale the aroma of fresh blood—he still has instincts; he can't help it. Then he catches the scent of the most… delicious wind of air he's ever inhaled, and he barely contains a gasp. His posture stiffens and he looks around, trying to locate the source of the scent. Right behind him, he sees a familiar face.

Surprised, he blurts out, "It's you!"

The man from the night before startles but looks up at him, relaxing when he sees who it is. "Oh. You scared me. Hello again."

Blaine can't help but grin. He pushes the scent away by cutting off his breathing altogether—he doesn't usually like to do that because he feels so dead, but when he gets a whiff of something that irresistible, he doesn't have much of a choice. He doesn't need to breathe, technically, but he likes to feel somewhat human. "So, do I get the pleasure of being properly introduced to you this time?"

The man smiles, a little too amused. "Have coffee with me and I'll think about it."

Blaine laughs, nodding. "Well, only if you insist."

So they order their coffee—Blaine takes note of the man's coffee order: a Grande Nonfat Mocha—and sit down together at a table by the window. "My name's Blaine, by the way," Blaine tells him casually before taking a sip of his Cinnamon Honey Latte—he tried something new after all.

The man smiles at him, sweetly rather than teasing this time. "It's nice to meet you, Blaine. And since you so kindly paid for my coffee, I think it's only fair we get to know each other better. My name's Kurt."

"Kurt," Blaine repeats with a smile, testing it out. "I like it. It suits you."

Kurt laughs and Blaine thinks it might be the most amazing sound he's ever heard. "Well, I would hope so. I have to say, I pegged you as more of a Ryan," he teases.

Blaine laughs again, shaking his head. "Ah, no," he says, chuckling lightly. "I'm just Blaine."

"Just Blaine?" he asks, his expression turning serious for a minute. "I don't know about that. You did kinda save me from being mugged—or worse—last night."

Blaine smiles a little, shrugs. "It was nothing. I just… couldn't let them hurt you."

"There were three of them and one of me," Kurt reminds him. "It wasn't 'nothing.' Thank you," he insists.

Blaine wants to reach out and take his hand that's resting on the tabletop, but it wouldn't be appropriate. Then again, what does he know about appropriate? He hasn't had any actual human social interaction since the 1800's. He reaches out and puts his hand over Kurt's, smiling softly. "You're welcome."

Kurt looks a little surprised by the contact, but not uncomfortable. He returns the smile and sips at his coffee, peeking at Blaine from over the lid of his cup. He doesn't pull his hand away.

A/N: I'm trying something a little different with this fic :) Let me know what you think. I'll try to write more this weekend if I have time.

Until next time!

Review please. Reviews make me do an embarrassingly-flaily happy dance, so take advantage of this opportunity to embarrass me ;)