Disclaimer: Vampire Hunter D is the property of its creator, Hideuki Kikuchi. I do not own D or any of the characters related to the novel series.

Warning: This story is rated R for language, violence, adult situations, and sexual content. Reader digression is advised.

Author's Notes: Special thanks the VHD Yahoo! Posting Board for their information on D, his sexuality, and so on and so forth. Special thanks also goes to Psi Yamaneko for her insights on D, his personality, sexuality, and ideas for this story; like the names. Sorry, but Forest wasn't going to play the victim this time, Psi.

I dedicate this story to Akemi and Psi, D's a dish, and we all know it.

The side of the mountain was shrouded completely in a thick, violet-grey fog. The fog seemed to have a life of its own, swirling as if it was alive. There were fanciful eddies in the thick pea soup that had tiny violet eyes, like miniature hurricanes.

D's Left Hand, which was currently perched on her shoulder, asked, "Have you ever seen fog like that, Morgan?"

"No. It looks like something L. Frank Balm would have come up while smoking crack," Morgan retorted.

The upside down mouth grinned at her as it replied, "Then that has to be it. Besides, don't you feel it. The power. Close your eyes and focus."

"This is ridiculous. No wonder D's so morose all the time," Morgan groused as she shut her eyes. She did focus and all the hair on her body felt as if it were standing up straight on end.

Her eyes opened and her mouth dropped. "Holy shit."

Left Hand chuckled, "That's Magic you're feeling, princess. Your technology and big guns mean jack to it, baby. You're a vampire. Act like it."

"I won't become a monster," Morgan replied as she brought out her rifle. She stepped cautiously through the fog. She gasped as it felt like someone had prickled her with thousands of needles of ice. Then the feeling changed to something warm and soft, soothing as she stepped through the fog. Suddenly a giant, gothic castle complete with Flying Buttresses loomed in front of her.

Morgan whistled and quipped, "Maybe I should if I could live in a place like this."

"Babe, hate to break this to you, but you're not alive," Left Hand retorted.

Morgan glared down at the appendage.

"It's a matter of speech, Lefty," she snapped back.

The hand glared at her and retorted, "Don't call me 'Lefty' baby."

"Come on, we're going in," Morgan stated as she boldly walked to the door.

Her whole being was tingling in anticipation. One way or another, it was going to be over tonight.

The first thing he became aware of was that it was cold.

He was cold. Chilled air drifted around him, hitting places that should be covered, teasing sensitive flesh. It drew tiny ripples from his skin as he suppressed the very human urge to shiver.

The second thing he became aware of was the pain in his left wrist. It was a faint, phantom pain, but it was still there. Frowning, he realized that the left hand was missing.

The third thing he became aware of was that his arms felt heavy and were suspended above his head. Automatically, he tried to jerk them down but found that all he could do was shift them slightly. He tried to bring them down again, even harder, but his reward was the jingle of chains rattling together.

D scowled as he opened his eyes.

He was completely naked and chained up in a dungeon. He tugged at the chains shackling his wrists, testing them. His scowl deepened as he realized he couldn't break them.

He also sensed that he wasn't the only person in the room.

He could smell roses, leather, blood and the musky scent of sex. He turned toward the scent, the chains clanging almost musically as he did. In the semi-darkness he saw the voluptuous form of a woman lounging in an overstuffed chair.

Garnet eyes flickered over his slim, lithe form appreciatively. A catlike tongue flickered from the vampiress' lips hungrily as she watched. She stood up and walked over to him, her curvy body swaying becomingly as she walked. Her long crimson ringlets tumbled past her waist. She wore a black leather corset that set off her hour glass figure perfectly.

"You are the most beautiful man I have ever seen," the Lady Circe Delarosa purred as she ran a leather clad finger down D's throat and chest, stopping to splay her hand flat upon his stomach.

D felt a wave of revolution at the Noble's appreciative and hungry look and at her touching him. His first instinct was to fight back and get away from her touch. He wanted to cringe, look away, and hide. However, to do so would to show weakness.

So he simply asked, "What do you want?"

"To play with my new toy," Circe answered, standing on point to nuzzle his throat. Her free hand went up and curled a lock of D's wavy hair between her fingers. D watched as she studied the lock in fascination. His heart was pounding in his chest as he fought the urge to jerk away.

She chuckled as she placed a finger under his chin to tilt it up. At this he did snap his head away. She grabbed his chin and forced him to look at her. His eyes narrowed to angry slits as hers gleamed lazily up at him. She chuckled before she pressed her lips against his.

D tried to jerk away at the feel of those cold lips against his. However, Circe was holding his head so he couldn't move. Her mouth moved against his, demanding that he surrender. He pulled at his chains almost frantically with trembling arms as he fought her.

Her bare leg rubbed against his thigh as she continued her forceful kiss. He closed his eyes as he kept his own mouth tightly shut. However, that curvy body continued to writhe against his when her tongue flickered across his lips, demanding entrance. Without warning, she invaded his mouth with that probing kiss.

She tasted like blood. D's right hand was clinched in a tight fist as he refused to give in. One of her hands gripped the hair at the nape of his neck as the other roamed down the sleek, powerful lines of D's back before moving to his front. She moved to caress him and D jerked his head away from hers.

"Don't touch me," he snarled, feeling his tightly reined control slipping. He felt his fangs starting to lengthen in his mouth as his blood raged in his body, crying out for darkness.

She threw back her head and laughed. She asked, "Or what?"

D glared at her as she moved back to him. Her hand absently caressed his chest. "What is my virgin captive going to do? Gnash his fangs at me while I deliver him to the edge? My sweet pet, there is nothing you can do against me. I am eternal. I am a Noble. I can't be stopped."

"Your time is limited here, Circe. I may not stop you, but there are others who will," D replied stonily.

Circe asked, "Oh, like whom?"

At that moment, an explosion echoed throughout the castle.

"This is your plan!?" The parasite squealed as Morgan threw a grenade into the great hall of the castle. It exploded in a rage of fire that took out part of the cold stone walls and all the tapestries that depicted sexual acts. She grinned in satisfaction as she yanked the pin out of another one with her teeth. She tossed it down the hole she just created. The detonation rang out through the castle.

Morgan pulled out her rifle with a grin. She answered, "How did you guess?"

"You're insane!" the hand snapped as the fingers dug into her shoulder.

Morgan chuckled, "I have issues." She pulled out another grenade from the belt that hung across her chest. She was armed for vampire and carrying enough weaponry to support a small third-world country. But third-world countries don't exist anymore! I'm a one-leech arsenal!

I'm coming for you, Circe, and its going to be over . . .

Left Hand continued, "You're worse than D!"

"But I'm funnier than he is. He doesn't have my fang sharp wit," Morgan quipped snidely as she pulled the pin and threw the grenade she was holding. The castle rocked with the explosion. She grinned in satisfaction.

Left Hand snapped, "But D doesn't try to blow me up either!"

"Hush, I'm hunting nymphomaniac vampire bitches who destroyed my life," Morgan chided, feeling almost giddy. She was going to kill Circe. She was finally going to get her vengeance. She could get her rest.

Anne, Swan, and Moira appeared.

Left Hand said, "We've got company."

"I know. I was planning this. I'm the distraction and you're going to save D," she whispered to the symbioite.

Anne cracked her whip. Moira was channeling some sort of dark energy between her palms. Swan regarded her with bored interest.

"Come get some," Morgan quipped as she let Left Hand drop to the ground. She drew her rifle and aimed it at Moira.

Moira lifted her hands up, the energy orb coursing with energy like garnets. Her lips were moving soundlessly as she finished her spell. Except, Morgan wasn't going to let her finish.

She fired.

Moira's violet eyes widened in surprise as blood dripped down her forehead. The magic fizzled out and faded into nothingness. The witch fell to her knees before falling on her face.

"Magic may be all well and cool, but nothing stops a speeding bullet," Morgan smirked at the dhampire and the other vampire.

"Swan was like you once," Circe mused as she studied D from where he was dangling. She was fingering the chains above his head, holding him helpless. There had been other explosions and even a gun shot, but she was ignoring it.

At least she's not touching me anymore, D thought thankfully. The idea of those cold hands on him filled him with intense revolution. The thought of those icy lips upon his made him want to retch. However, the hint of blood in her mouth might be his undoing if she tried again.

He was trapped by this mad vampire and he was helpless. He was ageless and she could keep him alive for eons. No matter how hard he struggled to resist her, in the end he would fall. Just as Morgan had and all the countless others before and after her. His being broken would just take longer, but what was time to the Noble?

She continued, "Trying to be like the cattle. However, his true nature was brewing under the surface. He just needed some pushing, that's all. And look how well he turned out, a credit to his family. What about your father, D? What does he think of what you do?"

"That he should have killed you himself," D truthfully answered, his eyes narrowed.

Circe laughed and asked, "Who was your father, then? Dracula? The No Life King?"

D wisely chose not to answer her question. He was not proud of his heritage. His royal blood line simply damned him to be alone and trying to fight the blood lust that tried to claim him every waking moment. The same bloodlust that kept him from leading a normal life with a wife and perhaps a couple of children. He was damned to walk between two worlds, but never be a part of either.

Circe turned toward him and studied his face. He kept his expression impassive, not letting her see anything. She tilted his head as she watched him.

"You seem lonely. See what happens when you fight your true nature? You've never felt the touch of another against that pale skin of yours. Never knew what it was like for reality to fade into bliss. Never knew what it's like to not know where your body ended and another's began. It must be a lonely existence, but I can change that for you," Circe mused, her garnet eyes hooded as she lifted her lips toward his again.

He tilted his head up at the last moment. "It's not worth it to hurt an innocent. What is a few moments of my pleasure compared to the sixty years that mortal will get to live?" D retorted resentfully, his eyes narrowing to pale blue slits.

At that moment, small Yin-Xi walked into the dungeon. She was dressed in a traditional Chinese red silk gi that brought out her exotic coloring. D thought he saw a flicker of anger flash through her sloe eyes before she turned to her mistress.

"It's the blond vampire woman," Yin-Xi said in her light, pleasant sounding voice.

Morgan. She's here . . .

Circe's crimson eyes narrowed in rage as she asked, "What do you mean?"

"She has killed Moira. I'm afraid that Swan and Anne will be next," Yin-Xi answered, her face a mask like a pretty doll's. D saw a flicker of satisfaction in the exotic vampire's eyes. She wants them dead. Why?

Circe asked, "Can you handle her, my little tiger?"

"I can kill her," Yin-Xi answered in that same emotionless, light, lyrical voice. She's a warrior. Like the Barbaroi. She has honor.

Circe smirked and replied, "I don't want her dead. Can you stop her?"

Yin-Xi placed a hand upon her small breasts and bowed respectfully. She turned away, her long braid swinging behind her. Her tiny form strode confidently out of the dungeon.

Circe stroked D's cheek with a smile. "I'll be back, my beautiful pet. I promise."

With that, she followed the vampire warrior, her body swaying seductively as she did.

D looked up as he realized he had just been given a reprieve.

And time to figure out a way to escape.

Swan's blood curdling shriek was music to Morgan's ears. She smirked as she rose up, her grip like iron. Swan's fingers curled and uncurled from razor claws. Tears made his green eyes gleam like emeralds.

She kept her hold on his groin and twisted.

Morgan smirked up at the dhampire and asked, "So, where's your boss?"

"Bitch," Anne snapped, the whip cracking, splitting the air.

Morgan caught it with lighting fast reflexes. She wrapped it around her hand and jerked. Anne went flying.

Morgan twisted in the opposite direction and Swan screamed even louder. Morgan chuckled, "I'm not nice like D is. I wasn't trained to be. I'll blow out your kneecaps if it will buy me time."

"You have no honor," a light, pleasant sounding voice that Morgan recognized as Yin-Xi said behind her.

Morgan turned to see the tiny Asian vampire standing there, holding a sword in each hand.

Morgan shrugged and retorted, "My honor was taken from me a long time ago. So why the fuck should I care anymore?"

"Then you will lose this battle," Yin-Xi stated as she stood formlessly with her blades. Her body could move into action in any moment. Morgan watched for tale-tell twitches in her limbs to see what direction she'd move.

There wasn't any.

Morgan had to throw Swan in front of the Asian vampire to avoid her swords. She managed to back step enough to regain her ground. She aimed her rifle, but the little bitch was quick. Like watching a Bruce Lee movie on fast forward . . .

One of those Chinese swords sliced through her gun barrel.

The second sword came swinging at her head.

Just like in ROTC training, Morgan thrust her rifle up to deflect the sword blade. She nimbly rolled out of the way, holding the rifle out in front of her like a battering ram. Yin-Xi leapt up, landing on one foot on the butt of the gun, and kicking at Morgan's face.

Morgan reeled back as her vision flashed with black and red. She felt bones in her neck snap as she tasted the coppery tang of her own blood. She landed in an ungraceful heap on the scorched floor. The other vampire took advantage of Morgan's plight and snap kicked her right under the chin.

Morgan's head snapped back with a sickening crunch. She bit through her own tongue as she fell back with the blow. Her head, neck, and even shoulders exploded in agony.

She managed to roll over and pull herself up with her arms. With a sickening hack, she choked up some of her own blood. The dark garnet ichor was smeared across the cool, grey stones. She gasped for unneeded air as her body worked to repair a snapped neck, broken jaw, and her ruined tongue.

Sharp claws entangled themselves in her waist length hair. Morgan gave a tiny cry as she was wrenched up to her feet, her back bowed due to the force tugging mercilessly at her hair. There should be some rule about not being allowed to pull hair in a fight, she thought humorlessly as Anne yanked her to her feet.

The smaller vampire's blue eyes were snapping with anger. She gave Morgan a vicious back hand, still holding onto her hair. Morgan braced herself from the blow; it didn't even throw her off balance.

"My dead mother hits harder than that," Morgan chuckled.

Anne rewarded her sarcasm with another slap. "You bitch," Anne hissed, "You traitorous bitch!"

Anne yanked her hand free of Morgan's hair. Unfortunately, her claws were entangled in Morgan's waist length hair. Morgan grit her teeth as a large hank of hair was torn out of her head. Anne had strands of gold dangling from her fingers.

Morgan stood to her full height. She could smell Swan standing behind her, their bodies almost touching. "Don't try anything," the dhampire purred in her ear, reaching out to smooth out her hair.

Morgan grinned darkly as she warned in a light voice, "Don't touch me."

"Why not?" he asked. Those long pale fingers trailed down her arms. His breath was warm on her neck, blowing on it slightly. Morgan's eyes flashed with anger as he continued to pet her.

She grabbed his left arm with her right hand. She brought it across her shoulder as she twisted to the side and angled her shoulders and head down. He went flying into Anne.

Morgan grinned as she took a stance. "Because I'll touch you back."

Yin-Xi was in action again, legs and blades flying. Morgan dodged as best as she could. As she picked up her rifle to shield herself from the swords, she realized that she'd lose to the Asian vampire. It was like Bruce Lee fighting Steven Segal and she was Steven Segal. She didn't have a chance in Hell.

Yin-Xi's foot connected with Morgan's chest. Then her fist into Morgan's face. Morgan stumbled back as the smaller vampire continued to pummel her into submission.

"My tigress, stand back," a familiar, singsong purring voice said, breaking the sounds of blades singing and the sickening sound of flesh pounding upon relenting flesh.

Morgan looked up.

Her eyes widened in horror as she felt her blood run cold. Thousands of years went away. She was transported back when she had been chained from the wall, cold and naked, while her Chris trembled in fear. Where she had been abused and had everything she had ever loved stolen away from her only to be given an immortality of rage.

"There's my solder. I was wondering what happened to you," the Lady Circe Delarosa purred as her garnet eyes flickered over Morgan's battered form.

Morgan started to shake with suppressed fury. Circe was standing there in full Merry Widow corseted glory, her blood red curls tumbling around that statuesque body. Her face was just as beautiful as Morgan had remembered it, but then again, Circe was ageless.

Morgan snarled as she jumped over Anne and Swan's heads, claws unleashed, as she charged right toward Circe.

The Noble simply held out her hand.

Power hit Morgan like a fist. It tingled along her body as if ants were crawling under her skin. Her body cried out in agony as she was thrown into a wall.

Circe approached, her head tilted as she looked at Morgan curiously. "I do love the hair. It's more becoming than that boyish cut you had when I first saw you, my solder. And I knew you would be back."

"Fuck you," Morgan spat, more blood splattering her lips.

Circe knelt down to gently push strands of Morgan's hair from her face. Morgan glared as Circe's icy hand cupped her cheek. She almost retched when Circe's frigid lips pressed forcefully against hers. Automatically, she bit the other woman, snapping her head back and pressing herself against the wall to escape.

Circe chuckled, "I plan to, darling. You ran away from me once, but you will not run away from me again. You will willingly join Belle Morte. I promise you this."

Morgan glared up defiantly.

D tugged at the chains furiously. Again, nothing was happening. However, he was hoping that he could pull lose the toggle that was holding the chains at the ceiling. It would be weaker than the chains and if he could get down he could kill Circe and the rest of Belle Morte.

Teeth gritted, he gave another yank. He heard something bend above his head. He tilted his head back to look up at the ceiling. The bolt was starting to bend.

Any other man would have smiled in satisfaction. However, D's eyes narrowed as he began to tug again. He felt it continue to give in inches.

"You know, she'll be back up here before you have freed yourself," a familiar, nasal voice taunted.

D looked down to see his Left Hand walking on its fingers like some macabre crab. The parasite continued, "You know, maybe I should just leave you hanging like this. Might serve you right."

"Get me down," D commanded in his monotone. However, he was actually glad to see the parasite.

The thing huffed as it climbed D's body. "You're a slave driver. You don't treat me with respect and you're a general pain in my ass. If I had an ass," Left Hand grumbled, his voice muffled as the parasite's mouth pressed into D's flesh as it climbed.

"Shut up and get me down," D demanded as it finally reached the chains.

Left Hand continued its grouching, "Not 'Would you please get me down?' but he tells me to shut up and get him down. I'm a good parasite, most of the time. I have both of our interests in mind you know. But still, Mr. Stoicism makes his huffy demands."

D glared up at it as it actually began to chew on the manacles holding his right stump. The creature would devour the metal, leaving nothing behind. It seemingly had an endless capacity: it could eat anything: metal, dirt, and powerful magic. It also had a vast knowledge on the occult and D's father that it would divulge if D needed or it felt like torturing his host or annoying D.

"Hurry," D stated.

Left Hand snorted, its mouth full of steel. He retorted, "You wanna save that vampire, don't you? Morgan. She came after you, you know. She's on this stupid mission of vengeance, but you already knew that. Well, I've got your sword in the next room. The nympho kept your clothing and armor in there as well. Morgan lost your hat though. I can see why you like her, she's more reckless than you are. Cuter too. Just that she's a vampire. Well, at least you don't have to worry about ripping her throat out. Just think of it D. You can get laid now!"

"You drug my sword in here?" D asked, hope rising within him. He had his sword. He had a chance against Circe and the rest of Belle Morte.

Left Hand snorted, "No, I just said I've got your sword in the next room because I was being a smart ass. Of course I have your sword! In the next room. Couldn't free you and hold it with my pinky at the same time. You know how fucking heavy it is without you holding it. I swear D."

D lowered his right arm. He brought the Left Hand over to the sealed stump of his left arm. The parasite transferred over and began to eat through the metal. When it was finished, the creature reattached himself to the stump, grafting the hand back on.

D flexed the fingers of his left hand, satisfied. The stone floor was cold on his bare feet. He sniffed the air delicately, like a cat, making sure that there was no one near by.

He exited the dungeon and entered what looked like to be an elaborate bedroom. It reeked of musk, blood, and fear. A fire was flickering gently in the fire place, casting the room in an orange haze. There were candles adding their soft, golden glow to the room's darkness.

Lying on a table was D's clothing and armor. On the floor in front of the table was the high frequency blade. He walked over to it and dressed quickly. He didn't have time to bother with the armor, so he simply gathered his sword.

The weight felt reassuring in his hands, as it always did. The sword was a part of him, and he an extension of it. Together, they were the perfect example of how weapon and warrior should almost be indistinguishable from one and another.

D heard soft foot falls, heavier than a woman's. It had to be Swan. As the footsteps approached, D heard the soft, slow murmur of a heartbeat. That confirmed his suspicions.

The door opened.

D struck.

Swan didn't even have a chance.

The green eyes widened as the white-haired dhampire bowed over D's sword. Blood trickled down the blade in crimson ribbons before dribbling to the floor. Swan looked up, his white hair obscuring his face. He gasped, blood spilling from his mouth. D thrust up for the killing blow.

"You're on the wrong side," Swan rasped, pushing himself off the blade. Somehow, he was still standing, his body bowed ever so slightly. He wobbled as he stood there though, the green eyes darkening, fading.

D looked at the other dhampire. He was a symbol of everything D was afraid of becoming. A symbol of why D continued to fight and slay his father's kind.

D asked, "Where's Morgan?"

"Downstairs, with Lady Circe and the others, damn you. That bitch killed Moira," Swan rasped, choking more blood and sinking to his knees.

D's eyes narrowed. Good, the witch was dead which left the three vampires. Killing Anne would be simple. He'd have to strike quick with Circe, but he had faced more powerful Nobles before, like Count Lee. However, Yin-Xi concerned him. She was a warrior and fought beyond her vampire abilities.

"You know what Circe's going to do to her?" Swan gasped, laughing before it turned into a hacking cough. He fell again, supporting himself with one arm. His breath was becoming more and more shallow. His father's heritage was making him linger. D knew it would be moments before he died.

D answered, "Nothing. And you abandoned your human heritage, gave into the bloodlust."

"And who's the happier one of us, D? You might be alive, but I lived more than you," Swan managed before gracefully sinking to the ground. His green eyes were glazed over, like a dead fish's. His heart ceased to beat. He was dead.

D swept out to save Morgan.

However, the Left Hand groused, "Bastard brat. You deserved what you got. Don't let him get to you, D."

The whip whistled through the air before cracking on impact. The stinging lash caused Morgan to growl and arch away. Cold blood flowed down her back from the cross hatching of whip wounds that Anne was delighting on inflicting on her.

Morgan was bound, nude (seemed to be a theme when captured by Circe, the vampire noticed), spread eagled and arms apart in some sort of metal ring that could spin. In the dim light the metal gleamed. Morgan had tried ripping through the bondage, but she couldn't. So it had to be silver.

The whip cracked again, lancing more red-hot pain through Morgan's back.

In front of her, Circe was watching with a cattish smile gracing her ripe lips. Beside her Yin-Xi, her pet "tigress", was standing obediently, her eyes staring at a spot at the wall. Morgan swore she saw something like disgust toward Anne and Circe flash through those almond-shaped sloe eyes.

Behind her was Anne. Anne and her whip. The whip she was currently cracking against the vulnerable flesh of Morgan's back. Every time the wounds would heal, Anne would start again. After those healed, she would crack her whip again. Over and over in a vicious cycle because she was a bitch. I'm going to kill her. Everyone in this room.

As the whip cracked again, Morgan noted that Swan hadn't returned yet. Circe had sent him down to check on D. He hadn't been back for a few minutes.

Maybe Left Hand got to D. Maybe he'll escape, Morgan hoped thoughtfully, wondering why the hell she hoped that he got away so badly. Maybe because he's better than me. He doesn't deserve this. I've had this happen to me before, I can survive it. And once I kill Circe, it won't matter ever again.

Morgan flinched as the whip missed her back and grazed her buttocks. She bit back a cry as she clinched her fists. She clinched her eyes shut as the untouched flesh throbbed in agony.

"I chose you to be part of Belle Morte all of those years ago. I need someone with your skills, dear Kirsten. Sadly, you ran away, even after I gave you life eternal," Circe lamented with a sigh.

Morgan spat, "Kirsten's dead. I'm Morgan, and all you did was send me to Hell, you vampire whore."

"Shut up. You do not talk to Lady Circe like that," Anne snapped as she brought the whip down again.

Morgan squeezed her eyes shut and snorted, "You know, your boytoy's been gone for a while. Wonder what happened to him? Maybe D escaped."

Morgan tilted her head back and almost laughed at the look of horror dawning on Anne's pretty face. Anne cried, "Mistress, she's right! Maybe I should go up after Swan."

At that moment, the door opened.

Standing there, his raven hair tumbling wildly around him, was D. His silvery blue eyes were alight with a calm focus. Without his hat, Morgan could clearly see his face. Indeed, he was beautiful. The most beautiful man she'd ever seen, and, from what she had known of D, that beauty was more than skin deep. His sword was ready at his hands.

Morgan almost cheered.

She looked at Circe and smirked. "Say your prayers, bitch."

With that, D lunged at Anne.