A/N: Yeah...turns out it's not a one-shot ;3 What can I say? Well I can tell you I wasn't studying when I was supposed to, that's for sure ;)

So, we have a little bit of a time-jump with this one. And I'm going to try and keep with following our little turtle around so let's call the first chap a prologue, shall we? I have only the faintest of ideas where I'm going with this but the first few chapters willl be used for exploring the vampire concept and how Leo copes. Sorta. ^^

So, if you have any ideas or questions, feel free to drop me a line. I'm always up for a chat :D

Oh, and you can blame AnimexoverCartoons for this. I probaly wouldn't have continued this fic without their input. So it's all your fault Anime xD And Leo wouldn't let me hijack the fic. So it's definitly a Leo-centric peice, for now at least. Anyway, enjoy ^^

Meditation has many purposes, many uses.

It can help calm a racing mind, slow a frantic pulse. It can expand and control the senses.

To a starving predator, surrounded by potential prey, meditation is invaluable. It can curb the urge to pounce. It can subtly steer the mind from unwanted, dangerous thoughts towards safer ideals.

Simply put, meditation is an excellent asset for this particular predator. The tempting prey currently prancing in front of him however, has yet to understand this.

"Come ooonnn, just one game!"

The high-pitched whine grates against his hearing. Muscles tense as the precious calm slips from his grasp and he can feel a snarl building in his chest.

"All you do is sit there."
Eyes narrow and the scent fills his being.
"You haven't played lair tag in a week."
Gradually, the soft slow beat of a reptilian heart reaches his ears as he focuses his attention.

"Leonardo!"
The authoritive voice flows over him and he loses the sound of his prey at the distraction.
"Michaelangelo! Your brother is still recovering and needs his rest, stop disturbing him!"
"But, father-"
"Out!"

He watches as the prey scuttles away, disappointed by the loss of his meal. His head twists to observe the newcomer and the sound of thunder echoes through his mind. The mammalian heart races, the rat is agitated.

He watches, silently, at its approach. The rat kneels beside him and he obediently climbs onto its lap. A moment of hesitation. And then an arm is offered. He crows in pleasure at the offering, small hands wrapping round the large furry limb. He chews air for a fraction of time, willing his newly developed fangs to spring forth. At the feeling of movement in his mouth, he flicks a coat of saliva over the roof of his mouth, coaxing his still-developing poison glands to close over.

Careful not to move too quickly, lest his prize be taken away, he slips his fangs into the soft flesh and immediately begins lapping the flowing blood that pours forth.

The liquid slips down his throat, the colour staining his teeth. Excited by the taste he draws faster, pressing down harder onto the warm arm before him.

A hiss of pain whispers from behind him and his prize is swiftly removed.

He gasps as the arm slides away, his fangs lifting clear of the fresh wound. Blinking, disoriented by the loss of a meal, he licks his lips, savouring the last drops of thrumming liquid.

He relaxes back into his companion, sated and at peace. The warm, furry arm curves back around, no longer as an offering of blood, but of comfort. Snuggling into his make-do pillow he breathes deeply. The scent that fills his nostrils speaks of safety, of assurance. Of home.