Title: The hand that loves and the hand that hates.

Disclaimer: I don't own Vampire Knight, this is a fanfic written for fun and for love of the series. I'm not making any money with it.

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There were times when the elder Ichijou felt strangely ill.

Not ill like the way he felt when his eyes set on young Kaname's skin, when he saw the graceful curve of the boy's bare neck, or when he cornered him and caught a momentary glimpse of fear in Kaname's eyes, spiking his predator instincts into feeling that this time the prey would be his.

No. Not ill with inconcealable lust and desire as he felt most of the time in the presence of his unwilling ward.

A little more ill than that.

He wondered if it was the constant lusting after the boy's blood and being denied it that did that to him, but sometimes, when he had been particularly forceful in his attempts to coerce the boy to allow him to drink his blood, he would inevitably feel sick the day afterwards, a strange weakness spreading through his blood and making him feel the years as if he aged much faster.

He had lived more than a thousand years already, he knew the weight of time very well, but this was different. He could feel it in his body.

It would have almost scared him, if not for the fact his will was too strong to waver at the face of such a small inconvenience, and his desire for the pure vampire blood in his ward's veins much to powerful for him to possibly resist it even if he wanted to.

No, this feeling was an unpleasant little side effect, certainly, but no physical illness would make him hesitate, not when the boy was right under his roof at his mercy, and every single day was ripe with chances and possibilities.

He had so much control over Kaname's life already. Every second of the boy's schedule was controlled by him. His lessons, his teachers, his free time, his meals, where and when he was allowed to go --save for the times Kaname escaped his guards and disappeared for a day or so, but those times were always punished with exemplary severity-- everything, even each piece of clothing that the pureblood was allowed to wear, was carefully selected and handpicked by him and no one else, a never ending reminder for Kaname that he would never, ever be free.

Ichiou made up for the lack of control he had over the boy's spirit by controlling him physically as much as he possibly could.

Yes, it was only a matter of time now. Sooner or later, the pureblood would break, and then, he would collect the sweet fruits of his victory, and be allowed that nectar of gods, the essence of the vampire nature, a pureblood's blood.

The only thing he couldn't possibly take from Kaname by force, the only taboo that he could not break without fear of society turning against him, much as he held the council's power in his hands.

Unless Kaname made a fatal mistake and put himself in a position of having the council be able to openly declare him mad or sinful, the only thing Ichiou could do was wait, and bide his time behind the ever watchful gaze the old vampire had over every single one of the pureblood's movements.

But time was on Ichiou's side as his secret ally regained his powers day by day, and so far everything went as he planned.

He licked his lips, a lecherous grin setting over his features at the idea of the day that would inevitably eventually come, when Kaname would get pushed far enough that he would finally surrender, and allow him to take his blood.

His delight would be complete if not for the squeezing feeling in his lungs, before a raspy cough suddenly shook his body in a most unexpected manner. It was quickly over, but it puzzled him, and left a sour taste in his mouth. He wondered what in the world was wrong with him.

But the thoughts of his inevitable future victory distracted him from this strange new symptom that had added itself to the list of unknown ailments he suffered from lately, and his young grandson entering the room finished taking his attention away from it completely.

The old vampire smiled fondly at the young blond-headed boy that was making his way from the large double doors of his study all the way to his desk, carefully taking one measured little step after the other as he balanced a little silver tray in his delicate hands, afraid of spilling the tea he was carrying.

The boy was so different from him in so many ways, and yet, he reminded him so much of his deceased daughter that he couldn't help the fierce pride he felt swell inside him when he looked at him and saw him grow smarter and more powerful day by day.

He was just a child now, but one day, he would be his heir, and take over the entire Ichijou estate. The council too, if everything went as Ichiou planned. He intended to set the bases for that during his lifetime. Takuma would inherit everything. Ichiou would see to it that the world of men and vampires would be at his very command one day.

It didn't matter who he had to murder or brutalize for it, and not even what he may have to do to Takuma himself to ensure that the boy would be strong enough and ready for it.

But he trusted him, he had no doubts that his grandson would have the necessary strength in him; he had Ichijou blood in his veins after all.

"Grandpa, I brought you your favorite tea." He beamed with childish glee, so un-vampire-like yet so inevitably adorable at the eyes of his grandfather.

"Did you, now? Why thank you, Takuma!"

He would never be able to be as cheerful-sounding as the child, but he knew how much little Takuma appreciated his efforts, and so he made himself appear that way as the boy approached him with the tray, rewarding him with a smile and listening to him while the little blond went on and on about how it had right the exact amount of sugar, cream, lemon juice and cinnamon that the old vampire enjoyed most.

In truth, Ichiou liked his tea pure, with nothing added, and he particularly loathed the unnecessary spices that the younger generation liked to put in their beverages and that he believed should remain in the kitchen. But the young boy was so eager to try new tea types and mixes that his grandfather hadn't had the heart to discourage him, and resigned himself to drink the strange mix that didn't taste anymore at all like tea.

"Grandpa, Kaname is looking more miserable today... did you do something weird again?"

Ichiou adored his grandson. But the one subject he never allowed him to interfere with was the rearing of his ward.

The old vampire steeled himself to wear the mask of severity that he strongly believed was necessary to ensure that Takuma grew into the person he meant for him to become, and scolded him pointedly for his interference, quickly falling into a long lecture on how he expected Takuma's behavior towards the pureblood to be nothing more than that of a watchful spy. Takuma was to use the fact that they were the same age and were together in many of their daily activities to both watch the pureblood and learn all he could about him.

To prepare for the day when he too, would have to know what to do to take control of things, and to be able to use any leverage they had over Kaname for the best interest of the Ichijou clan. He had no time to waste with foolish thoughts of friendship and pity. Kaname was nothing more than a political tool and a potential source of immense power for them if he was maneuvered properly. Takuma mustn't forget this.

The boy nodded sullenly, having heard this speech countless times.

Each time he hoped things might be different, but the old vampire just lectured him on, refusing to ever relent when it came to the subject of his treatment of Kaname.

So Takuma just sighed, and handed him his cup of tea with a look of resigned inevitability on his little face.

As the blond boy left the room, Ichiou smiled at him again, as if to say that this would pass and that sooner or later he would see things like him. It was meant to be friendly, but it annoyed Takuma, and he left silently.

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Back to his room, Takuma found Kaname curled up under his blankets. The pureblood had taken the habit to hide in Takuma's bed when things became too unbearable. It was the only place where Ichiou wouldn't come after him, or at least the only place where he hadn't so far. He trembled slightly under the blankets, hugging his knees to his chest while he lay on his side trying to control his breathing.

They were almost the exact same age, Takuma being actually a mere few weeks younger than Kaname, but in those days, Kaname seemed so broken that he looked much younger than him.

His spirit would not break, or at least that was what the pureblood constantly repeated to himself as if to cling with desperation to that belief, needing to convince himself more than anyone else, but his body was still very young and frighteningly weak at the face of all that he had to suffer through.

From the way Kaname had covered himself with the blankets completely, head included, Takuma knew that the pureblood was crying, silent tears rolling down his flushed cheeks.

This too was a forbidden thing. Purebloods never cried in the presence of anyone else.

Purebloods couldn't possibly ever show weakness. They were far too desired to take such a risk. Any sign of vulnerability would mean their inevitable destruction as the lust consumed all others around them, telling each and every one of the other vampires that now was the time to strike.

So Kaname hid his tears even from the one person he could trust in this sea of terror that he drowned in on a daily basis.

Takuma's little fingers pulled the blanket aside partially, being extra careful not to reveal too much, just enough for him to slide his hand beneath and softly caress Kaname's hair.

He sat on the bed next to him and gently caressed his hair until the pureblood's breathing became more even and Kaname slipped into a much needed sleep, now reassured that his friend would keep guard over him.

Takuma sighed softly, a dark look on his face, contrasting with his delicate and childish features.

He did love his grandfather. No child hates their grandfather, especially when said grandfather is as doting and loving as Ichiou was with him.

But the problem was, he loved Kaname more.

He loved Kaname with a desperation that would make him do anything to ensure the boy's safety. If his grandfather would not see the truth, and would not cease his relentless abuse of the young pureblood, then Takuma had no choice but to do something.

He was a kind, caring child, but at his core he was also strong like steel, and willing to do anything it took to protect Kaname.

And that was why, whenever he saw the pain emanating anew from the pureblood, Takuma couldn't help but see red with seething rage, and each time he put an even bigger dose of the vampire hunter's poison in his grandfather's tea.

He would much have preferred a peaceful method, and he still hoped that he would be able to convince his grandfather to stop before it was too late, or that Kaname would be finally able to escape that house and go somewhere where the old vampire couldn't reach him. But if neither of those things happened, then he would not hesitate to continue until death ensued, Takuma told himself, while he squeezed the little pouch of poisonous dried herbs hidden in his pocket with one hand, and caressed Kaname's head with the other.

One hand to protect your beloved, and one to strike down his enemies.

It didn't matter who those enemies were.

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Sagakure, July 6th 2008

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I actually had a Kaname & Takuma fic that's almost done, but got a sudden idea and had to write this one instead of finishing the other. XD Ah, well another time. Both are very different fics. :)

Takuma is always so sweet, but we know how much he cares for Kaname and wants to protect him, and we saw how far he can go to try to protect from harm those he cares for. So, perhaps...

Luckily Kaname got to go to Cross academy and Takuma didn't have to dirty his hands any further? XD;; lol

The part about their ages, as well as the part about Ichiou's deceased daughter are both made up for this fic. However, Ichiou being Kaname's guardian and lusting after his blood is canon. (Albeit probably not as violently as in my fic ideas. lol)