AUTHOR'S NOTE: All Final Fantasy VII/VIII characters are property of SQUARE software and their subisdaries. Please do not sue me. I have no money. I just love gorgeous video game bisien. This is a YAOI fan fiction piece. So if you are under the age of 18 or are offended by male/male sexual relationships, quit reading now. I will not be responsible for you if you don't. Now, with all that out of the way, on with the good stuff!! ^_^ Big thank you to Seiya Kou and Dark Ki for everything they have done!

Squall sat up right in his bed. He was drenched with sweat and chilled still from the previous evening's rain shower. He gasped for air and tried frantically to familiarize himself with his surroundings. His eyes flew wildly around the room until some part of him clicked and realized that he was in his barracks quarters.

He ran his fingers through his damp hair. It was the same dream again. The one that had been haunting him for a week now.

He was sitting on the ground, his back pressed against a wall. There was blood all over, some of it was his, but most of it wasn't. There was someone against him. He was holding onto the person, he knew that. But, the sound of hearing the person's ragged, empty breaths was what chilled Squall to the bone. Whoever he was holding was dying in his arms and that made Squall more afraid than anything had before.

"Who is it?" Squall asked himself out loud.

There was no face to the person, no height, hair, or eye color. Just the feeling of a body and all the blood around them. He swallowed back some bile that had surfaced in his throat. He knew that in his dream he felt an incredible emotional assault that even haunted him now while he sat awake in his bed.

Squall glanced over to the clock. It read 4:15 am in all of it's neon green glory. He sighed heavily, and flopped back on the bed. His skin felt prickly as the sweat began to dry in the cool room.

"Why do I keep dreaming the same thing?" he wondered.

Squall closed his eyes and tried to get a couple more hours of sleep. He dozed lightly, feeling fear that if he fell asleep too deeply, the images would haunt him again.

______________________________________________________________________________

"Class, today I want to introduce you to your new specialized drill instructor, Vincent Valentine. Vincent is an old fighting compatriot of mine. He will be training you on some specialized weapon manuever techniques. Yes, Zell, that includes you even though your a hand to hand fighter." Professor Highwind said brightly.

Zell grinned at Professor Highwind. They liked to get into little sarcastic friendly battles whenever possible. He glanced at Rinoa, who was studying Vincent with great interest.

"See something you like, Rin?" Zell whispered quietly.

"Now that's a bishonen!" Rinoa responded enthusiastically.

"Women! All you ever think of is men."

"You gotta' problem with that, Dincht?" she asked in a humourous tough tone.

Zell smiled and then turned his attention to Squall. He was shining his Gunblade and trying to avoid looking at Vincent at any cost.

"That's weird." Zell thought to himself.

"Now, class, please pay Mr. Valentine your highest respects. He's one of the best in his field and needs to be taken seriously. Your drills begin this morning and run until seven p.m. After that, those who wish to take the extra time and do target practice, Mr. Valentine will be available for special instruction and consultation. Vincent, they're all yours."

The lanky pale man nodded and stood with the grace reminiscent of a sleek panther. He shook Cid's hand and then stood in front of the training facilities main room. The students stared wide eyed at the famous Vincent. He was quite amused by their reactions. What amused him even more was that he could see the young Squall Leonhart was trying to avoid looking at him.

"Good morning, class. Please, call me Vincent. I have never been fond of these formalities. I will be taking you out in teams of four to run the course without weapons first, and then with. For those of you who wish to stay after seven p.m., I am available for private training until ten p.m. Remember, Cid has told me that all of you are candidates for SeeD. Which means that I expect the best from all of you. Team one, you'll be the first to run the drill. Keep in mind that when you are familiarized, you will be armed with your specialty weapons. Don't get overzealous. Now, team one, would you please follow me to the field." Vincent quietly instructed.

A group of four students followed Vincent through the door and out into the training field. Seifer watched them leave and then sauntered over to Zell, Rinoa, and Squall. He looked at them smugly.

"So, Team three, are we going to be cooperative today or not, eh Squall?" Seifer sarcastically asked.

Squall glared at Seifer and continued to shine his Gunblade. He was in no mood for minor squabble with Seifer. He had had one too many fights with him already. Seifer scowled at Squall and then turned his attention to Zell and Rinoa.

"What do you think of the new instructor?"

"He seems like he knows a lot."

"Yah, not too bad for the walking dead."

"That's really mean, Seifer." Rinoa scolded.

"Look at him! The man has got to be sick or something."

The words Seifer uttered caught Squall's attention. He didn't look up, but he felt his chest tighten a little inside.

"He has to be sick..." Squall's thoughts mulled over Seifer's off hand comment. "Yes, he has to be sick or in least getting sick to be that pale."

Squall was completely zoned out when Zell gently squeezed his shoulder. He was shook out of reverie to see that Vincent was holding up three fingers to indicate the next team.

"Hey, Leonhart, you okay?"

"Wha...uh, yah, Zell, I'm fine."

Zell looked suspiciously at Squall. He then shrugged and walked away. Squall quietly prayed that he could run the drill without getting too close to Vincent. He was still terribly embarassed about last night's incident.

"Hurry up, Leonhart!" came Seifer's thunderous voice.

Squall shook his head and picked up his pace, joining the rest of his team on the training grounds.

______________________________________________________________________________

The drills had went suprisingly well for all the teams. Vincent had been greatly impressed by all of their skills. Especially those displayed by Team three. The top four students of GARDEN were all on one team. It certainly gave their group a fantastic advantage.

Vincent's watch read eight p.m. He had wandered to the target area, not suprised to see it empty. Or in least he thought it was empty. He heard a sudden flare and he approached the area of the sound.

At the very last targeting area, Squall was aiming his Gunblade. He pulled the trigger, sending a flare of light mixed with fire out of the blade/barrel. Vincent was impressed by the weapon. It was truly a fine mix of old and new. Squall frowned as the flare missed the center of the target by a mere inch.

"If you hold the weapon a little lower, you'll hit the center of the target."

Squall almost dropped his Gunblade upon hearing Vincent's voice. He felt his cheeks flush immediately and he lowered his gaze to staring at the ground.

"You don't have to be embarassed around me, Squall, I'm not here to humiliate you. I just thought you wanted to hit the target."

Squall swallowed back his saliva. His stomach became a bundle of nerves the closer Vincent got to him.

"Why am I so nervous around him? He's probably completely forgot about last night's incident."

Vincent finally came and stood beside Squall. The slight evening breeze caught his rich raven locks, stretching them out from his neck and shoulders. Squall could feel his hands tremble a little on the handle of his Gunblade. Vincent shivered suddenly, pulling his good hand into the sleeve of his turtleneck as far as it would go.

Squall thought the man's attire was unusual. More for the fact that the weather currently was about seventy two when it wasn't raining. Vincent was dressed for thirty degree weather. Apparently by the way he was massaging his shoulders, he felt like it was that cold.

"So, are you going to try my suggestion?" Vincent quietly implored.

Squall nodded. He placed the Gunblade a fraction lower than he had previously held it. He pulled the trigger and the flare came firing out. It almost struck the center, but skimmed the next ring instead.

"Damn."

"Here, if you would allow me to do so, I can position your Gunblade to the right angle."

"All right." Squall was proud that his voice didn't waver. Too bad his knees were feeling like jelly.

Vincent pulled his hand out of his sleeve and used it, along with his claw, to position Squall's arm. The weapon now rested maybe half an inch lower.

"Try firing now."

Squall obediently pulled the trigger and the flare went flying directly in the center of the target. But, with the accomplishment came an unexpected side effect. The Gunblade was positioned much lower than Squall was ready for. The force from the flare launch knocked his arm back and he felt a sudden sting.

"DAMN!!" he cursed loudly.

"I think I see your problem. You're not used to firing with loose muscles."

Squall lowered his Gunblade and rested it against his leg. He began to massage his upper shoulder, which began to throb and then relax.

"Firing with loose muscles?"

"Yes, you tense up when you shoot your weapon. If you keep yourself looser, you can position your weapon at almost any level and not suffer the fate that your arm just did."

"Well, how do I do that?" Squall had always been interested in learning any new techniques that could possibly get him ahead.

"If your shoulder has numbed, pick up your Gunblade and I'll show you."

Squall rotated his arm a little and then picked his weapon back up. Vincent moved behind Squall, and applied pressure to his shoulders.

"Drop your shoulders, let yourself breath. You need to find a calm center where you can be alert and agile, but keep from knocking your feet out from under you."

Squall nodded, trying not to focus on Vincent being so close to him and the feelings that were starting to rise in the pit of his stomach.

"All right, now take your Gunblade and carefully align it to the direction your plan to fire. No need to rush right now, this is just practice."

Vincent slide his arms down Squall's and began to position his arms carefully. Some of Squall's auburn hair fell from his neck, exposing his lightly tanned skin. Vincent felt a tenseness in his body that he hadn't felt in a very long time.

Vincent leaned forward and whispered softly in Squall's ear.

"Keep your arms steady and never lose sight of your target, no matter how little or big it is."

Squall wasn't really registering the last few words. Vincent was breathing in his ear and the the hair was standing up literally everywhere.

"Relax." Vincent lightly whispered.

Vincent found his eyes drawn back to Squall's neck. He felt a need beginning to well up in him.

"No. Push it back, Vincent." he reprimanded himself.

But the need was growing stronger. His body was becoming so cold and he wanted to be warm. He wanted to stop the urge to sleep again. Squall's neck seemed to taunt him.

Squall felt Vincent's hands leave his arms. He assumed the training session had come to an end. He began to lower his arms when he felt Vincent's hand and claw rest on his hips.

"He's not...is he?"

Vincent let his lips gently nuzzle the back of Squall's neck. He desperately wanted to stop himself, but an animalistic need was taking presidence over his senses. He let his breath brush the fine hairs that graced Squall's neck.

Squall felt the Gunblade slip from his fingers. He didn't hear the noise of the weapon striking the cement. He reached his hands down to disconnect Vincent's from his hips. Yet, he found himself caressing them with delicate lightness. Vincent slid the hands upwards, massaging Squall's chest lightly. Squall lulled his head back onto Vincent's shoulder, a soft moan escpaing his lips.

Vincent felt a heat begin to burn inside. He pressed his lips lightly against the exposed neck. Squall trembled and reached behind him. His arms trapped Vincent against Squall's back and side. Vincent could feel something prick at his bottom lip. His incisors had grown and were awaiting their reward. Vincent slid his tongue down Squall's throat, moistening the flesh. Squall whimpered and Vincent pressed his body even harder against Squall's back.

"Vincent,...I..."

Vincent almost pressed his teeth into Squall's slender neck when he heard his name. Something about the softness in Squall's voice pulled him free from his bloodlust. He instantly pushed away from Squall and turned around. His tongue ran over the teeth. Usually they receded, but this time they didn't want to disappear.

Squall felt a sudden flush of confusion. Vincent had been so gentle only a moment ago. Had he done something wrong?

He turned around to see that Vincent had his claw clamped over his mouth. It looked as though the man was crying.

"Vincent?"

"Go away, Squall." his voice was rougher than usual and something about the sound of his words was different.

"Vincent, what's wrong?"

"I said, 'Go away, Squall.'" Vincent responded even louder. "Please, run before I do something to you." he desperately thought.

But, Squall did quite the opposite. Vincent wouldn't have expected him to have such strength, but Squall spun him around suddenly. Without saying anything, he pulled Vincent's claw away from his mouth. Two of the brightest, longest incisors Squall had ever seen on anyone glinted in the training ground light.

"Mother @#$%#!!" was all that Squall got out.

"Squall, let me explain, I..."

"Get away from me!"

Squall stepped back slowly. Vincent didn't approach, but instead replaced his claw over his mouth again. Squall ended up tripping over his Gunblade. He fell to the ground, but got up with rapid speed. Vincent continued to remain stationary. There were tears in his eyes that slid down his face. Squall grabbed his Gunblade and held it in front of him.

"Don't go anywhere. I don't know what the hell you are, but I'm going to get Professor Highwind right now."

With that, Squall took off running to the main training office. Vincent watched the young soldier fleeing. He felt more pain than any he could remember.

"Please, don't go." Vincent whispered before the tears took over. He collapsed to the ground and rested his head on the cement. His body screamed for sleep. It wanted to sleep like it had so many years ago, before Cid and his other compatriots had found him. Vincent shivered through his tears.

"I'm so cold."

______________________________________________________________________________

Squall had been at a full run since he had left Vincent. He had went tearing through the main training ground office and down the hallway. He shot up the three flights of stairs and pounded loudly on Cid's door.

"Wait a $%#@^ second, would you!" came Cid's voice.

Cid threw open the door, ready to take the person's head off. He cut himself short from screaming when he saw the look of fear on Squall's face.

"Squall, what's wrong?"

"It's Vincent, Professor Highwind. He just...he just tried to bite me. He's got these huge fangs and, I mean, he looked like a real vampire or something..."

Before Squall could finish talking, Cid had run back into his office.

"Shera! Get some blankets! Vincent's having a relapse!"

"What?!" came Shera's shocked voice.

"A relapse?" Squall looked incredously at Cid.

Shera came out of the office carrying three blankets.

"Where did you see him, Squall?" she questioned.

"Uh, he was at the training grounds. He tried to bite me and then he got really pale when I ran off."

"Will we make it in time, Cid?"

"We should be all right. Vincent usually has good enough control of his body to keep from falling asleep. But, we have to hurry just in case. Squall, take us to where Vincent is." Cid instructed.

Squall nodded, not sure what the heck was going on. He led them down the flights of stairs and into the hall that led to the training grounds. Cid took off ahead of Shera and Squall. He ran onto the grounds.

"Where is he, Squall?"

"I, uh, I left him at the target range."

Cid took off at a full run. Shera was quick to follow and a very confused Squall followed behind her. Squall heard Cid's voice echo.

"He's going to sleep Shera! We need the blankets and something sharp!"

Squall made it to the lighted area to see Cid and Shera wrapping Vincent up in the blankets. The raven haired man was limp like a rag doll. His crimson eyes were open, but they didn't seem to be registering anything.

"Vincent?! Vincent?! C'mon, stay with me buddy." Cid talked loudly to the unresponding man.

"Squall, come here." Cid commanded.

Squall obeyed, feeling a pang of fear creeping into him. It wasn't because of what had happened earlier, but because of his quick judgement, Vincent could be dying.

"Your Gunblade, is the tip sharp?"

Squall nodded, not knowing why that would matter.

"Vincent, Shera and I have you some help. Just don't go to sleep."

Vincent once again didn't respond. His eyes slowly began to close.

"Oh no, you're not, you bastard!" Cid shouted. "Squall, cut open your hand and put it to Vincent's mouth."

"My, my hand?" Squall stared disbelieving at Cid.

"Just do it!"

Squall adjusted the Gunblade so that the tip faced upward. He closed his eyes and pressed the metal to his palm. The Gunblade's tip sliced through his skin easily. He winced and drew back, biting back the urge to whimper. His palm filled slowly with his blood. He dropped to his knees and held it near Vincent's mouth.

Vincent's eyes shifted open again. He turned his head weakly to the source of the smell. Squall lifted his palm to Vincent's lips. The man began to lap the blood from his open wound. Squall felt himself go pale. This was his sickness? Vincent took a few more licks and suddenly his body went rigid. Squall fell backwards and Shera also tumbled back. Cid held onto Vincent until his body relaxed. His eyes closed and he laid quiet. No one said anything for a long time.

"Is, is he dead?" Squall barely could whisper.

"No, he's just asleep." Shera answered quietly.

"What the hell just happened?"

Cid was moving Vincent's hair out from his face. Though he was still pale, he wasn't as bad as he was yesterday. Cid picked Vincent up carefully.

"Come to my office, Squall. Shera will attend to your wound. I think you have a right to an explanation. Let's go."

Squall stood up and helped Shera to her feet. He looked at his blood coated Gunblade and felt a terrible twist in his stomach again. Had he almost killed Vincent?

"Come along, Squall, let me tend to your hand."

______________________________________________________________________________

Squall sat silently on Cid's couch in his office. Shera had produced her little first aid kit. She went to attend to Squall's palm. But, upon washing away the leftover blood, there wasn't a cut to be found. Squall stared at his hand with utter shock.

"Looks like some of Vincent's saliva must have gotten in your wound. We won't have to worry about infection."

"His saliva did this?" Squall moved his hand in front of face, searching for any hint of his self inflicted wound.

"He's asleep in his private quarters. He'll wake up tomorrow thanks to your blood, Squall." Cid said quietly as he entered through his office door and closed it behind him.

"Professor Highwind, please excuse me language, but what the %$@#$ is going on?"

Cid sighed deeply and took a seat in front of Squall. He was silent for a long time. Shera came over and took a chair next to her husband. He gently took his hand in hers and she gave him a reassuring squeeze.

"Do you remember all the stories I used to tell you about Vincent, Squall?"

"Yes."

"Well, there was one that I purposely never told you or any of my other students. But, seeing that you have unintentionally become part of this one, I'll start from the beginning. Vincent has a malady of sorts as a result of Hojo's countless experiments. It's nothing like his Chaos abilities or the claw on his left hand, it's much more devious. Hojo, in his urge to truly find the ultimate weapon, had Vincent altered genetically in more ways than just his alternate forms. By reconfiguring his DNA somewhat, he created a man that could sustain his life on receiving small amounts of blood once in a great while."

"You mean Vincent's a real vampire?" Squall interrupted.

"Not a real vampire in the sense of holy water and only being able to survive in the dark. Vincent's vampirism had military use. If used in battle, he could infiltrate a whole division of soldiers and wipe them completely out without using any detectable weapons. But, Vincent didn't need much blood to live. Perhaps a swallow or two every few months. Only, there was a slight drawback. If he went for too many months without receiving some kind of blood, he would go into a stasis of sorts. His body gets very cold and then shuts down. When my compatriots and I found him, he was not 'punishing himself' in a coffin like I told you in the stories. He hadn't had any blood intake and quite simply, he fell asleep until we woke him up."

"But, how do YOU know all this, Professor Highwind?"

Cid looked nervously at Shera.

"It's all right, Cid, you can tell him the truth."

"Um, ahem, Vincent and I used to be lovers." Cid's face flushed a little.

Squall wasn't sure which one shocked him more. The fact that Vincent was a walking genetic accident or that he used to sleep with Cid.

"Did he, you know, ever bite you?"

"Yes, he bit me a few times. It's not an unpleasant feeling. A slight sting, but nothing more."

"Why did you have me cut myself?"

"I would have done it myself, but all the nicotine and alcohol I used to inhale has tainted my blood. Vincent would tell you I have a bitter taste if he was awake. By the time we reached him, Vincent didn't have enough strength to bite you. It was just easier for you to open up your own hand."

"Why did my wound heal?"

"Ah, well that is one advantage of Hojo's experiments. Vincent's saliva has a healing element that was installed so that after he had destroyed his targets, the wounds could be sealed without any evidence of cause of death."

Squall found himself staring down at his palm again.

"I guess I just should've let him bite me."

"Don't be ashamed, Squall. I was afraid the first time I saw Vincent with his teeth. You didn't know. There's no sense punching yourself around for it."

"Professor Highwind, I, uh, I overheard your conversation with Vincent yesterday. I thought you said he didn't need it to survive."

"In Vincent's view, he doesn't. A swallow or two really isn't much. Shera and I agree that he doesn't need it to lead a normal life, but he does need it."

Squall nodded, but felt miserable inside. He couldn't shake the feeling of Vincent looking at him when he had fled earlier. His ruby eyes had begged for understanding and Squall had been too locked up in himself to see it.

"Squall, why don't you go to your barracks and retire. I'm sure my husband will excuse you from drills tomorrow. I'm afraid Vincent won't be up to par for another day or two."

"Of course, Squall. Don't worry about class tomorrow. Just try and get some sleep. I know it'll be tough tonight."

Squall stood and bowed as he always did when exiting the Highwind's office. He quietly closed the door, making sure the latch took. He wandered numbly down the hall to his barracks room. He slid his passcard through the lock and the door opened slowly. He slipped inside and closed it.

Squall slid down the door and clutched his knees against his chest. He buried his face into his arms and rocked slowly. The tears that he was trying to hold back came spilling down his cheeks.

"I'm so sorry, Vincent. I'm so sorry for everything. I'm so sorry for not understanding, for not helping. I wish I could hold you now. I wish I could feel you touching me again..."

Squall's thoughts trailed off as he began to shake from sobs. He stayed against the door for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, he arose and collapsed on his bed. He absently ran his fingers over the spot on his neck that Vincent had tenderly kissed.

"Vincent...I don't know what I want, but I think,...I think I want you."

Squall closed his eyes, his mind slowly slipping into a restless sleep.