A/N: Anyone else think the New Brood is an extremely underused subject in fanfiction? Anyone? Anyone? (clears throat) Well, um, anyway. When coming across an old clip of Gangrel, Matt, and Jeff in a match from years back, I thought to myself, "Oh, what I could do with these three characters." And then, it all turned into a ridiculous epic in my head.

Voila. The epic. Enjoy.

WWE owns everything in this story (except for the likenesses of the wrestlers who have passed from their employment), and will soon come to take over the entire free world. It is an unfortunate, but true, fact. Yes, I believe we must all accustom ourselves to PG living.

Note Regarding Timelines: When I refer to something as "present day", I'm pretending Jeff is still with the WWE. Not that I have anything against TNA, folks!

(WWF No Mercy pay-per-view, 1999):

The show had ended less than an hour ago. Interviews had been given, cursory small-talk had been made. Praise for a hard-won victory had been humbly, gratefully received.

Now, finally, Gangrel stood in the comforting solitude of his locker room.

He was growing hungry, and restless. Soon, he would have to feed, he realized.

But not yet.

Sighing heavily, the enigmatic blonde leaned bonelessly against the wall, waiting with all the patience of a skilled predator. In many ways, that was what he was.

He thought about what he intended to do tonight, thought about the consequences should he succeed. He closed his eyes, a tiny smirk pulling the corners of his mouth upwards. He'd waited in silence for so long; now, finally, he would be rewarded for his dutiful patience.

Suddenly, loud laughter broke into his thoughts, a raucous contrast to the all-encompassing silence that had hung heavy a moment before. Opening his eyes, Gangrel turned his attention to Matt and Jeff Hardy, his new favorites. Backing into the shadows further, he watched as his young protégés celebrated the victory they'd won earlier in the evening.

They had triumphed in the Terri Invitational Tournament, a foolish sham of a match, pitting Matthew and Jeffrey up against his former disciples, Edge and Christian. The thought of the two past Brood members caused Gangrel to curl his lip in derision and anger.

Fists clenched, he moved deeper into the shadows, ever-silent.

He'd liked nothing about tonight. The contest's stipulations had been nothing short of ridiculous. Two tag teams, vying for a bag supposedly filled with cash, and the diva Terri's "services". Matthew and Jeffrey should not have been forced to compete in such a ludicrous debacle. They were too talented to be taking part in such idiotic matches.

Though, he had to admit, the night had actually yielded good things for the Hardy brothers in the end. They had been given a stage upon which to display their considerable talent. They had shown the world that they were capable of defeating his former disciples. And, perhaps most importantly, they had shown themselves capable of earning his respect.

Gangrel's dark blue eyes observed Matt and Jeff closely, taking in every change of expression, every shift of muscle beneath their ring-worn attire. They were laughing, joking around. Reveling in this moment, and in their beauty, and their youth. It was now, Gangrel mused, that their blood would taste the sweetest.

His gaze fell onto Matt. The older Hardy brother's full, curly black hair fell in waves over his shoulders, framing an earnest and handsome face.

"I can't believe we won", he was saying, grinning as he regarded his younger brother.

"Of course we won", replied Jeff, smirking, "Edge and Christian are tools."

Matt just shook his head. He was unable to wipe the smile off of his face.

Gangrel leered, watching his young minions with amusement. When their conversation turned to less interesting things, like friends and relatives and their hometown, he allowed his mind to wander.

"Jeffrey…" His gaze turned to the younger brother. A half-smile immediately graced his pallid countenance. Both Hardys were lovely to look upon, but Jeff was a work of art. His trim, lithe little body was as agile as a cat, and perfect for in-ring work. He had a pale face with finely-chiseled features, both delicate and beautiful. His large, expressive green eyes were a force that drew anyone who happened to glance his way into them.

Gangrel loved to look at Jeffrey.

He smiled to himself, one of his fangs catching on the soft tissue inside his lip. He licked a tiny drop of blood out of the wound. Sighing softly, he closed his eyes, enjoying the sharp, metallic taste.

"I think I broke my ass when I jumped off of that ladder", pouted Jeff.

Silently, Gangrel slipped out from his corner, and made his way towards the brothers. Neither of them noticed his soundless approach.

Matt frowned. "Well, I've told you to be more careful, Jeffro. One of these days, you're gonna break yourself in two, doing one of your crazy stunts."

The younger Hardy had never appreciated being told what to do. He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know, I've heard it all before, Matt. A thousand times, I might add."

Matt's frown deepened. He shook his head, sighing. "I just wish you would listen to me, Jeff. Just once."

Jeff glared. "Well did it ever occur to you that I don't listen to a word you say because you patronize me and treat me like a retarded child? I mean, c'mon Matt, give me a break. I'm a grown man, but you nag me every single night of my life. It's making me look bad in front of the other guys, you constantly on my ass, telling me what to do out there and how to wrestle-"

"I nag you every night because you never listen, Jeff!", Matt said, his tone heated, "If you'd just take some of my advice, I wouldn't have to keep drilling it into your thick skull, now would I? And I don't patronize you. I simply remind you to be careful, because, too often, I think you take unnecessary risks out there."

Jeff stood, glowering down at his older brother. "But you're wrong! Every risk I take is absolutely necessary! The fans wouldn't give two shits about the Hardy Boyz if it weren't for the stunts we pull! We have to take risks out there, or we'd lose our spot. You know, as well as anyone, that that's the nature of the job."

"Whatever, Jeff", sighed Matt, his tone weary. The older Hardy rose, towel in hand. "I'm not fighting tonight. I won't do it." He stalked off towards the showers then, an annoyed glare on his face.

Jeff let out a harsh sigh, watching him go. Eventually, he and his brother would learn to see eye-to-eye on this issue. They'd have to, he knew, or they simply wouldn't be able to work together as a tag team anymore. Jeff ran a hand back through his multi-colored locks, working out stubborn tangles. Sitting on the bench, flexing bruised and sore muscles, he thought over the match once again.

Suddenly, the young Hardy felt a hand drop onto his shoulder. He gasped, his muscles tensing in alarm. He hadn't heard anyone approach.

"Oh, Gangrel, it's you! You scared the shit out of me."

"I apologize, Jeffrey", said the older man, "I simply came by to congratulate the two of you on a well-fought match." A small smirk twisted his thin lips.

Jeff forced a smile. He was in no mood to deal with Gangrel's weirdness right now. Something about the guy just gave him the creeps.

"Uh, thanks, man", Jeff said, silently praying that Matt would hurry the fuck up and get out of the shower now.

Gangrel sat down on the bench next to him, his bright blue eyes utterly intent on the young Hardy's face.

Jeff cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably.

"So, um, I don't suppose you went across the hall and congratulated Edge and Christian? They kicked ass tonight", Jeff asked, trying perhaps too hard to sound casual.

Gangrel's expression abruptly darkened. "Edge and Christian are dead to me", he said lowly, "And I, surely, am dead to them. They have happily managed to avoid me these last weeks. If they are at all intelligent, they will continue to stay away."

Jeff unconsciously drew back, immediately chastising himself for mentioning the two ex-Brood members. He knew it was a sensitive subject, as Gangrel, Edge and Christian were involved in a not-so-private war at the moment. He couldn't help himself, however. Edge and Christian were friends; he'd had to at least put in a good word for them. Jeff sighed inwardly. This rift between Gangrel and his former minions was doing no one any good, least of all he or his brother, who often got caught in the crossfire of the older man's wrath. All he could hope for was a swift end to their conflict, he supposed.

Gangrel watched the young Hardy's reactions closely, observing the tense muscles, the shy, conflicted gaze. The scent of Jeffrey's fresh, young blood saturated the close air of the locker room, intoxicating the already over-worked senses of the beleaguered vampire.

"I apologize, Jeffrey", he said softly, "I did not mean to be cross with you." He was staring at the color of Jeff's eyes. Flecks of yellow and forest green accenting purest hazel. Lovely.

The young Hardy ran a hand self-consciously back through his unkempt mane. "Um, it's okay", he replied, "I really shouldn't have said anything." Jeff's pensive gaze moved quickly towards the showers, before dropping quickly back to his lap. As he was wont to do, Jeff was fidgeting nervously, picking relentlessly at the fraying knee of his dark, baggy wrestling pants.

Gangrel reached out, almost hesitantly at first, and pushed a stray lock of sweaty hair away from the younger man's pale face. Jeff froze at the contact, obviously uncomfortable with the other man's closeness.

The older man's eyes began to roam languidly over Jeff's slim waist, his bare chest, his pale neck. A slow smile spread across his face, revealing two sharp, elongated incisors. The open scrutiny did not go unnoticed. Jeff began to subtly back away, not liking where this appeared to be going.

Ignoring the Enigma's obvious distress, Gangrel persisted, gently caressing the younger man's cheek, his jawline, the length of his neck.

Swallowing hard, Hardy continued to move away from Gangrel's invasive ministrations. Not knowing what else to do, he made a desperate ploy to change the subject.

"So, um, I- that is, Matt and I, we wanted to talk to you about incorporating some new moves, possibly. We, uh, um, had some ideas… to… show you…" He trailed off, distracted by his mentor's penetrating blue stare. Those eyes gripped him, sending him into a stupor that he neither desired nor understood. Paralyzed, Jeff gazed dumbly at the other man.

Gangrel leaned forward, his every movement as smooth and noiseless as a snake gliding through tall grass. Jeff couldn't take his eyes away, though he desperately, desperately wanted to. He wanted to tell him to stop.

The vampire moved in closer and wrapped one arm around his prey to keep him from escaping, though Jeff wasn't struggling. He wasn't able to.

Gangrel sighed contentedly as he leaned down and breathed in Jeff's musk as if it were fine cologne. The young Hardy smelled of sweat and tobacco, and the sweet reek of fear. He looked beautiful, his glazed green eyes fighting to stay focused, his skin flushed, his colorful hair sticking to his face and cascading down his back.

The vampire wanted more than anything to take his time with this, to spend all night drinking Jeff's heady lifeblood. He knew, however, that Matthew would be out of the shower very soon. He had to hurry, if he were going to accomplish his task.

Gangrel gazed down at his victim who lay back, unmoving, in his arms. He brushed a stray lock of hair away from Jeff's face. "So beautiful", he whispered reverently, a small half-smile on his pale face.

Jeff stared in mute horror, praying that Matt, or anyone, would find him and save him.

Gangrel closed his eyes then, bowing his head as if in concentration. A few moments passed, and there was only the sound of Jeff's labored breathing, and the distant din of the shower.

Hardy watched the older man close his eyes and seemingly enter into a trance-like state. As soon as Gangrel wasn't looking, he immediately began attempting escape. Fear gripped him as he tried desperately, over and over again, to instruct his paralyzed muscles to obey his commands. Desperation set in when he realized that he couldn't even open his mouth to scream for help. Jeff didn't understand how Gangrel was doing what he was doing, nor did he understand what he wanted from him. That lack of knowledge terrified him.

Suddenly, Gangrel raised his head and opened his eyes, and he looked… different. More animalistic. Jeff immediately noticed that his once-blue pupils were now a yellow-gold hue. He also saw that the fangs Hardy had previously thought to be cosmetic had lengthened, to the point that they were sinking into the older man's bottom lip.

Gangrel smiled as he saw panic vaguely touching the young Hardy's spell-bound gaze.

"I know you are frightened", Gangrel said softly, "But you needn't be. You belong to me now, Jeffrey; I will protect you."

Jeff couldn't look away from those terrible, feline-gold eyes. They paralyzed him, made him feel weak. The young Hardy tried frantically to struggle, to hit Gangrel in his grinning face, to plead for mercy. All he could do, however, was lay there like a helpless child.

The older man smiled affectionately down at his pale victim.

Then he sank his teeth in.

(Present Day, 2010, a hotel):

Jeff opened his eyes with a start. He was in bed, it was the middle of the night. He was dreaming. Again.

That same fucking dream.

Matt, the locker room, Gangrel, the night after the Terri Invitational Tournament…

Worst fucking night of his life.

Groaning, knowing that he'd never be able to get back to sleep now, he pushed himself up and slowly got out of bed. Glancing at the digital display of his alarm clock, he groaned again, and ran a hand over his weary eyes.

1:36 in the morning.

As he walked to the bathroom to get himself a drink of water, he realized that this had been happening far too often lately. He'd been having too many sleepless nights, and for what? Old ghosts? Bad memories? Fever-dreams?

The truth was, Jeff didn't want to think about it. Because the moment he began trying to contemplate what had been done to him over the years, he would go insane.

Jeff entered the bathroom and turned on the light, wincing at the sudden brightness. When his eyesight had sufficiently recovered, he grabbed a plastic cup and filled it to the brim with water. He drank greedily, chugging the liquid down.

He felt no better once he'd quenched his thirst. He was exhausted, yet he knew he'd be unable to sleep.

It had been almost 5 months now since he'd last seen Gangrel. 5 months. It was the longest period of time the vampire had ever left him to his own devices. He hadn't called, hadn't stopped by for one of the "surprise visits" that Jeff always dreaded. The young Hardy couldn't help but wonder if he was dead. And yet, deep down, Jeff knew he was not. Despite the other man's absence, the young Hardy couldn't help but feel as if Gangrel was always watching over his shoulder, that unsettling smirk twisting his thin lips.

Shuddering, Jeff sat down on his bed and turned on the lamp. He opened the nightstand drawer and fished around for the remote to the TV.

The young Hardy heaved a great sigh. He leaned back on the bed, readying himself for a long night of watching infomercials and Chuck Norris flicks.

Suddenly, the air distorted, like heat coming off of baking asphalt.

"Jeffrey." A familiar voice whispered, laughing. Jeff hated that voice.

The young Hardy shot up, straight as an arrow, his eyes wide as saucers. He knew exactly what that meant. Tense as a cornered animal, his gaze roamed the room, waiting to find the shifting darkness that would accompany the vampire's arrival and move with him like a protective blanket.

He didn't have to wait long.

"Hello, Jeffrey." A voice like spun silk sounded directly in his ear, making him gasp with fright. The young Hardy felt cold, clammy fingers running through his long hair. Jeff turned around slowly, eyes wide, chest heaving with fear.

What he saw did not comfort him. Gangrel was smiling , his fangs prominently on display. He was hungrily appraising Jeff, taking in every inch of his body, as he always did when they met in private like this. He caressed the young Hardy's pale cheek, grinning widely when he pulled away roughly.

Jeff began to back away. "What the fuck are you doing back?", he whispered, his voice half-angry, half-broken. After all that had transpired, and after telling himself Gangrel might finally be gone for good, Jeff wasn't sure he could start all of this shit over again. It would kill him.

"I came back for you, of course", the vampire replied, as if he were speaking to a stupid child. He suddenly took on a more sinister tone. "I will always come back for you, Jeffrey."

He pulled the younger man back into his arms despite his protests and struggling.

"So my lovely one", Gangrel said, smirking evilly, "why don't we celebrate my return with a little snack?"

I love two things in pop culture. Vampires, and Jeff Hardy. I had to combine the two. I couldn't help myself. This will not be Twilight-esque. I fucking HATE everything about those books; no offense to Team Twilight. It's gonna get messy in here folks. Bring towels to clean up the blood.

Thanks for reading, and PLEASE REVIEW!