I wrote this for a friend, who didn't like it. Maybe you might. Anyway, I've decided to post a few stories I've been doing, but haven't bothered posting on here. This is the first out of five or six, but I'm not sure about a few...

Disclaimer. I own nothing

Edgar had never been scared of monsters. Even when he was younger, he never feared the darkness that would cover his room as he lay down to sleep. Despite Alan being there with him, it wasn't to the fact that it was some form of comfort and a feel of safety. There had been times when Edgar would move through the darkness alone, whether it was to go to the bathroom, or if he happened to have gone outside at night. In fact throughout his life, darkness had always been around him in some form or another. It was always there though it tended to linger some distance away from him. No matter where he went though or what he did, it accompanied him no matter what. There were different types of darkness though. It was within every person, deep within a place that light couldn't touch, no matter how it tried. And although this cold, never ending blackness was with him, it brought nothing with it. He felt no fear from the pitch never ending blackness, nor did he get anything else from it. But this was because he could not see it. The darkness was a part of him, a part of how his home life was like, a part of his relationship with his parents, and all the tiny things of being human. The things that made him who he was, the things that formed him together. Even a happy family had some form of darkness within themselves and around them. For nothing can be perfect in a life; there is always the cracks that slowly form and crumble together. A soul cannot be pure and perfect. It is something that has to be balanced, for it is what makes you human. Whether you are a respectable, well mannered person, the sort who respects god, respect his wishes, and all those around you, you cannot be perfect. The gaping holes deep within will be closed but, sometime or another, they will open, and the darkness will show. It will slip from you and move around you. You have your good days and you have your bad days. For nobody can not be angry, for nobody can not commit a sin. No matter what you think of yourself, the cracks will show in time. There is always a small sprinkle of badness and evil within you. It is a person who chooses to unleash it, or keep it buried somewhere numb and cold within your spirit where it cannot rise.

With Edgar though, it was possibly more show able than it would with others. It was there from the moment he was born; the moment he began to grow within his mother. The soul is there from the moment you are created, and the shadows start to form to darkness. It grows in time, as it did with Edgar as he grew from a baby to a child, then a teen and into a man. But it was worse for Edgar as he grew older. The darkness did not stay the same nor did it melt away slightly. No, it grew and it became most of him, more of a part of him. It grew with every time he killed, no matter if he was ridding away evil, doing something that perhaps god would agree with. It was surely god's work, something he would want doing, but that black increased within him. Again the feelings never came; a feeling of suffocation or anything like that. When Edgar grew older, the real darkness of the world was something he lived in and grew accustomed to, but when he was younger, it was the darkness from within his soul that was the one that made him who he was.

Every time he swore, every little lie he did, everytime he thought bad things of his parents, or when he and Alan fought, that darkness increased. Edgar never had a good home life, but it didn't affect him in the way it would possibly with others around the time of his age. He had Alan; his brother who shared what he did, who was the one he confided in, as well as him confiding in Edgar. Alan made him stay upright, as he did with Alan. Really, the somewhat shit life they had wasn't really bad at all, for they had each other and they learnt to fend for another as well as themselves. But how the light yearned to touch the darkness, more so when it spread wider around him. In time it began to inch closer, and further down the line, it became somewhat of a blanket, wrapping around him in a circle but, again, it didn't touch him. It still strayed somewhat a few inches away but with every bad thing he did, whether god agreed with it, agreed that it was right not wrong, it got closer. God had no control over this, nor the devil himself. It was something unknown that made this black choose to move.

Edgar wasn't aware of the darkness around him, and he couldn't see it on others like they could with him. It was something that no one could see of, not himself, possibly not god, or even another form of sprit or soul that perhaps ghosted past him. The dead couldn't see it, nor the undead.. There possibly was nobody that could, perhaps only his soul in some way or another.

And yet this was around him, there came no fear of the real darkness in the world There were no nightmares of monsters chasing him, making terrible monstrous sounds. He never feared the closet, and he never wanted to look under his bed before he turned out the light. Even when he walked alone through the darkness, there was never any fear within or shown. It was just never there. Perhaps it was something that made him the hunter that he grew to be.

But fear did come sometime in his life, in fact many times throughout it. When Alan was hurt when getting hit by car, inside, fear formed slowly. It began to suffocate him as he paced inside the waiting room. Would he lose Alan, was his injuries bad? But as soon as fear came, it melted, turning to mould and then rotting away to nothing. He was lucky; a broken ankle and that was all. Fear didn't come again for sometime. The feel of it, the experience only made him grow stronger. They were young at that age, but that darkness was there, even if it was only six feet away from him.

When he called his mother bad words, even though she deserved it, the darkness inched a small step closer. Edgar didn't know it did, but it did. Even when there were days when there were no bad feelings or thoughts, when it was positive, that darkness didn't move away, nor did it shrink and change. It was happy to become bigger, more of a part of him, but melting away never came. When Edgar got into a fight at school because Alan swore at a girl who ripped his comic up, and then some school bully of a boy decided to hit Alan over the issue. …Edgar dropped his bag to the ground and, tackling the boy to the floor, repeatedly socked him in the face until a bruised, faced, Alan dragged him away. They were young then, and it was an every day thing like that, that happened, but that darkness slowly moved. He was protecting his brother, helping somebody he loved. The darkness didn't care whether it was a good or bad deed; it still moved. There was no knowing if the darkness was indeed something, or if it were, was it good or bad? It usually moved when Edgar did something bad, therefore in some form it was good. The soul was becoming painted in more thick black paint with every bad thing he did. But the part of him that was born evil, that was still locked away, so surely the darkness was doing nothing really?

When the vampires attacked the Emerson's house…fear was shown then, despite Edgar never really fearing monsters. For a moment though, when he clung to Alan, truly thinking they were gonners, fear was shown. For Edgar didn't want his life to end so soon. Alan and had him had plans to become great hunters, to rid evil from the world. They had a duty to perform and they swore they would do it. When it was over, fear didn't come for sometime, and it never did when he became a better hunter, when he had the training and experience he had never held before. When the two grew older, when they had the ability to kill and spot vampire's, no fear was shown. But how that darkness slowly slithered again and it rose, like some cloaked figure moving on somebody to seal their doom. With every place he rid away evil, slowly making the world a little bit better, when he gave children a future, when he changed somebody's fate from being murdered so savagely, the darkness did not give him a break. With every kill he made, it moved again, and his soul became even more coated in darkness. But there was still light there and, again, there was no feelings with it. The evil was still locked away, but something was shown. Perhaps the key within the lock was slowly turning and the evil was trying to get out? Monstrous hands tried to unlock the lock, and the pure evil needed to be let out. But when it did, it never stayed pure; for there would be nothing else but evil within him. It always mixed in with things from inside the world, things that could not be seen by eyes.

The darkness became worse over the years and the light yearned even more to sooth and touch those dark places within his soul. How it longed to fight away the darkness. How something good within him, perhaps his spirit, wanted to rid away this darkness that stretched even further like a blanket around him. The more he murdered, the more blood that stained his flesh, the more that never ending darkness moved and grew to something. It just never ended. Even if it were merely something small, as in a thought on somebody that was merely very little bad, that black moved, and it got closer and closer. It never stopped and it never would. For what would happen when it closed in on him was unknown. For it seemed like nothing, yet it knew when he did something, and it knew to move. Was it actually perhaps his soul itself that had slipped…a piece had broke away, and become this blackness around him? Was it merely just a speck of evil that had indeed turned to smoke and somehow slipped through the lock? If so, then did that mean the duties he held were indeed, and a fact ,evil? Was murdering evil creatures, evil? Being a killer surely must be evil whether it is with good intentions or bad. Some part of Edgar, was evil in some form, whether it was somehow mixed in with good, but his intentions were that of good. For when he killed, it was for the good of the innocent, as their lives depended on him. They did not know it, but somewhere within, their souls perhaps did. Edgar was the one they needed, yet they did not know of it, only he did. He did these duties. He was a hero and he only murdered the evil, yet somehow he was bad. Being good to kill evil, to wipe it away for good reasons and intentions, was making him evil in some way or another.

The darkness had no wish or interest to somehow find a way to answer these, yet Edgar didn't know of it, therefore he had no questions forming. Or were they there deep within, that even his mind couldn't bring them forth to the surface, so he could taste the words on the end of his tongue as he spoke them? There were no feelings, there was no feel of being evil, and he knew deep within it wasn't. The darkness however had some different view on how he worked. Yet the soul was him; it was what made him who he was. For if he had no soul, he would surely perish away; wither like a broken, black, stemmed rose. The soul was him, it was who he was, made him who he was, and if it broke, snapped, lost it's connection to him, he would surely break and die, or become something different? Was the darkness perhaps doing this? That perhaps, really deep down inside, this was affecting him although his mind and heart had yet to register it. For the soul knows things that the mind cannot take in, that the heart cannot posses to learn and feel. The soul is above the mind and heart; it is the thing that knows things and takes them in, that the others cannot. The soul knows things before a person is born into the world, and perhaps it is something a person will never know, never hear in their mind and be able to speak the words.

It came to the time when it did get so close, that if it was possible to feel, it would surely suffocate him.

The amber eyes were menacing and full of a danger that no human could possess. They pierced Edgar's, and the darkness moved, yet nothing had happened. It moved as if it knew what was to come, as if it knew what Edgar was going to do.

Those eyes never wavered from Edgar, and although that blanket was there, they could not see it. Good could not see it, nor could the bad. The deepest evil there was had no power to see it, nor did the purest goodness there could be. God could not see it, nor the devil himself, or angels…all of these things that were above, that were surely stronger, that could see things none other could, could not even see it. But Edgar did once. He finally saw it, although it was a glimpse, a flashing second before his eyes. He saw that darkness as he happened to glance through the corner of his eyes. And they had moved and they saw it all around him.

Drink, brother. Become like me. For there is nothing for you. I can rid that pain that you try so hard to hide.

His eyes said this and Edgar hesitated. They urged him, attempted to lure him in but, underneath, there was a pleading look. Those words were said within his eyes again and Edgar saw, he saw how much they meant, saw how powerful and strong they were. No, he could not. For how he still loved his brother, although that part of him had long died. Alan wasn't Alan anymore. It died the moment he took a human life. His soul wasn't with him anymore; it had lost it's connection and it was something that could never be linked together again. There was no turning back. Alan was a monster now, and the goodness had left him. There were no human feelings left to feel or to be shown, but how he wanted Edgar. Not even the monster could hide how he wanted his brother with him. Together…back together…forever…Make up for all those years of lost time. It wasn't to late. They could be together again. Edgar just had to drink and kill. He said it to him, and it seemed simple, easy almost. It was with him. For Alan felt nothing when he killed. Not the regret, mercy, hate…none of those feelings could be felt anymore. There was nothing but those dark pleasures, that satisfaction, and the never ending need; just that need to sooth the thirst, the need to feel fear, and hear those screams of the innocent.

No, Edgar could not, would not, become like that. Most of his life he had fought against evil and not even Alan could make him turn away from it. He loved goodness, loved them, more than he did his brother.

But that darkness. How he saw it around him, and for a moment, a feel of fear was shown. More fear than the time he had finally come face to face with monsters, when myths had turned to reality, when everything that was a lie became truth. Edgar turned away, and he moved then. Alan wasn't having it. The selfish creature that he was could not let Edgar go. He wanted him, he needed him with him, and he would go at all costs to get him.

The games started between them after that, and some two, three years later, things stared crashing down. Everything around him slowly withered and died, those around him crumbled to nothing, and bit by bit, Alan was winning.

He never did though. Edgar won, but it came at a cost.

Edgar now knew after seeing the darkness around him for the second time, after having the final battle with Alan, there were different types of darkness. There was darkness within you, and there was darkness all around you. For Edgar it had been all. The darkness had finally closed in on him, and his heart was nothing now. It stuck to him, just like a boa constrictor squeezing it's prey to death. It had been for sometime and it had never moved, nor would it. Edgar was born to become like it. It had been his destiny right from the beginning. It was his fate to be alone. It was his fate to have killed Alan, and it was his fate to finally let that darkness win. There was nothing within him now. He had long cared to save humans from vampires, he had long cared for the sun, for the flesh of a woman, for his brother. Edgar didn't care when he was ambushed, when he finally became the one thing he hated, the one thing he hated so much, the one thing he destroyed his brother so he could prevent himself from becoming it. It was his fate; from the start it had been sealed. It had just took time to slowly unwrap the bow and let it take it's course.

Some are born to become monsters. Some are born to stay good as much as possible. With Edgar, no matter what he did, he just didn't win. The evil slipped from the lock, creating that blanket, and in time, it slowly sucked and consumed the goodness within him. It harvested it, bit by bit by, slowly destroying him.

Edgar was a monster now.