12Series: Fireblood||Title: Unholy Desires
Characters: Taichi, Yamato, Vamdemon||Ship: Taichi x Yamato
Chapters: 7-20||Words: 2,028||Story: 14,605
Genre: Supernatural, Romance||Rated: PG
Challenges: Diversity Writing, Digimon Adventure 02 Firestarter/Healer AUs, L19, 5+ fics; what-if: What if Yamato were bitten by Vamdemon?
Notes: Okay, here we go. This isn't just a Firestarter/Healer AU. This is also a breeds AU & an alternate timeline: set in season one, but Jou is 15, Taichi, Yamato, & Sora are 14, Mimi & Koushirou are 13, and Takeru is 11. THe breed-Chosen aren't aware of their nature as of yet.
Summary: One quick bite was all that it took and not only do the Chosen have a new foe to fight, forged from one of their own, but Taichi must deal with an attraction he never expected.
Anbumon couldn't avoid the sphere of Wizarmon's magic. It struck too fast and he wasn't really worried about trying to evade it. Wizarmon was an Adult level and he was an Ultimate. There wasn't much the wizard could do that would hurt him.
He changed his mind on that a breath later. There were more ways to be hurt than physical.
He recoiled as the sphere enveloped him and the world faded away, replaced by an endless void of nothingness. His heart raced – had it even beat since he'd awoken into the body for the first time? - and he tried to breathe but it felt so wrong. He stared down at his hands, shaking his head.
When he closed his hands and strained to conjure even the barest specks of power, he could feel nothing. He had no power. He knew himself; he knew the strength that flowed through his veins, but he could feel none of it now.
This wasn't right. This couldn't even be close to right.
"You're nothing." A voice that he knew far too well. A voice that he knew because it was his voice and not his voice. Slowly Anbumon raised his head to stare into a pair of bitter blue eyes.
"Ishida." His other side, the side of him that died to Vamdemon's fangs and should never have been heard from again. There he stood, surrounded by shades of emerald green light, and a warm pulse of light that Anbumon knew was the power of Healing.
He hated it. He always had. He would have far preferred to be a Firestarter, to be able to destroy with little more than an act of will. His attacks did a great deal of that but it wasn't the same at all.
"You're nothing. Just a reflection of me through a broken mirror," Ishida said, staring at him relentlessly. "You won't stay forever. I'll take my body back."
Anbumon snarled, eyes flashing scarlet. "You're wrong. You're dead. I wouldn't be here otherwise."
"Am I?" Ishida's smile flickered. "Am I a nightmare? What you're most afraid of? That you're not the powerful monster you think you are, that you won't be around forever That I won't let you hurt the people I care about?"
"You're only a memory! I'm everything that you could never be! I know my power! I know what I am!" Anbumon would have strangled his other half if he could get his hands around that slender neck. But no matter how hard he reached, Ishida remained untouchable. "You never even knew about me!"
"Never wanted to. But since you're here, I'm going to have to deal with you." Ishida's grin held a sudden edge to it. "Don't think I won't. And keep your hands off Taichi. He's my Firestarter."
"He's mine if I want him." Anbumon snarled. His interest in Taichi hadn't been all that strong – he would take him later, he did taste pretty good after all, but he'd never really thought about it too much when he had so much else to do. Now he wanted not just to bond to Taichi but to do everything else that he'd ever thought about doing to anyone else.
Loudly. Noisily. Often.
"You might be surprised about that." Ishida crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm always going to be here. You can't change that. And that's your real nightmare – that you can never get rid of me. That I'm your reflection as much as you're mine." That smile that seemed a sudden mirror of Anbumon's own. "And how much you hate that."
Anbumon roared, hands trying so hard to get to Ishida and rip him to shreds. He'd finally won control of the body and he wasn't ever going to give it back! Ishida Yamato was dead and nothing could change that. Nothing could bring back the dead.
"But am I really dead?" Ishida whispered. "Or do you just want me to be that badly?"
With a rage that mere words could not express, Anbumon lunged forward, fighting against all reason to get to that pathetic imitation of himself. And yet still Ishida could not be touched. His laugh was the last thing Anbumon heard before he snapped out of whatever the illusion had been.
He was soaking wet in the bay. His clothes were singed and his entire body ached – had he been hit with an attack? It felt like it. His eyes glowed in scarlet rage and he rocketed up out of the bay, spinning around, searching for Wizarmon. The little creep had to be there somewhere.
At first he saw nothing and he headed inland, landing in a park. He hated the thought of being a Healer, but this time it might be useful. He rested one hand on a tree trunk, trying not to prick his skin with it, and whispered.
"Where is Wizarmon?" He formed the best image he could of the Digimon, not sure if a tree of Earth would know who Wizarmon was. Trees and all plant life could pick up images from Healers. It might help.
Truth to tell, he'd never tried to use a single bit of his Healing abilities since he'd been revived as the undead. He hadn't the faintest idea of if it would even work. To the best of his knowledge, there hadn't ever been a vampire Healer. He was breaking new ground here.
Slowly the tree stirred. It shifted some, wind sighing through the leaves.
You are different, Healer. It almost sounded reproachful. You are not alive.
"Yes, yes, I know that. I'm still a Healer. He hated saying that. "I need your help. Tell me where he is."
The tree didn't respond at first. Anbumon got the sense that it was talking to others. He'd never understood even before how trees communicated amongst themselves. They just sort of did. Every Healer knew that. They were a part of a communication web that extended over the entire planet. It was one of the facts that kept the world at peace.
One of those other facts involved Firestarters who had a habit of incinerating anyone who thought they could get wars started just for the grins and giggles of it. Anbumon approved of that.
There. The sense of Wizarmon's presence came, farther into the forest. He flies most swiftly. There was a bit of disapproval to that. Trees weren't' very big on movement.
Anbumon snorted. "I can catch him." He patted the tree. He would have to remember not to destroy this one. At least not any time soon. Then he leaped into the air and soared along, searching for any sign of Wizarmon. He trusted the trees, as much as he trusted any other living creature, and the Digimon would be around there somewhere.
He did not think for a moment about what he'd seen. He told himself quite firmly that Ishida Yamato was dead as a door nail, that he would never draw breath again, and that he, Anbumon, was the most powerful of Digimon, even if he were half human. He would never be powerless. He could do what he wanted, when he wanted, how he wanted, and no one would ever be able to change that.
There! A moving figure ahead, just above the trees. Anbumon eyed him, hands flexing. The trees here wouldn't be able to do what he wanted. They could and would move to his will to some extent but he wanted to do this personally.
So he dropped below the trees, where he wouldn't be seen, and took to leaping forward, catching up to Wizarmon and a little ahead of him, gathering his power as he did. There was a tiny clearing and there he stood, waiting until Wizarmon was right over him before he unleashed his power.
"Obsidian Strike!"
His power flared upward, arrowing in on Wizarmon and knocking him around. He didn't incinerate Wizarmon. Oh, he did not want that. That would be far too easy. Wizarmon wouldn't suffer if he did that.
And he did definitely want to make Wizarmon suffer.
Ishida Hiroaki stared out into the gathering night. Everything had been strange for the last few hours. Now he and his crew hurried through the streets of the city, trying to find out what was going on. He'd seen a few things. He wasn't sure about what he saw, but he'd seen it regardless.
Monsters.
He'd never believed in monsters before. At least not very much. He tried not to think about what he'd seen on a certain night years before. He knew his children had seen it, but Natsuko hadn't ever mentioned it. Ever since he'd thought it was merely a hallucination or he'd mistaken something or anything but reality.
At least until now. But he'd seen tiny monsters that shook their van and then he'd seen an actual dinosaur walking by. Well, maybe a dinosaur. It was big and fierce and looked a lot like one but he didn't recognize it if it was one. And he'd always rather liked dinosaurs, too.
At least until one nearly wrecked his van. That dropped them down pretty fast.
"We need to get back to the office," one of his crew muttered. "We are not getting paid for this."
Hiroaki snorted. "This is exactly what we get paid for." He wasn't entirely averse to going back; they would need to let people know to get under cover. The monsters had to be taken care of, though he didn't know who'd do it.
He started to open his mouth to tell them that when something crashed hard into the street not that far away. Hiroaki stared out the window, not entirely sure if he believed what he'd just seen. Whatever had landed wasn't all that big but it left a crater in the street.
Without thinking about it he got out of the van, ignoring the shrieks of his team, and hurried over there. The closer that he got the clearer he could see what – who – landed there. It might be a monster but it wasn't much larger than a child and it looked sort of human-ish, at least in the sense of having a head, a torso, and two arms and two legs. It was dressed like a wizard of some kind, holding onto a staff, and eyes glazed in pain.
"Are you all right?" Hiroaki asked, kneeling down. "What happened?"
The creature blinked a little, eyes focusing on him for a few seconds before he lurched upwards and pushed Hiroaki to one side, setting his staff on the ground and conjuring up a shield of some kind. This happened apparently just in time, as a blast of black energy exploded across the area. The shield reflected some of it – not all, as the wizard creature fell backwards, smoke rising from their hands.
"You should get out of here," the creature whispered, staring at Hiroaki and drawing in great gasping breaths. "This isn't safe. He's coming."
Hiroaki started to ask who "he" was. He never had the chance, as he heard the sound of someone approaching. He turned around, expecting to see some sort of nightmarish creature from the depths of Hell. He sort of saw it. He just didn't expect to see the face that he saw coming from the depths of Hell.
He stared. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. This could not be what he thought it was. Who he thought it was. He knew that his son had come home early from summer camp – something to do with the freak weather. He'd even had a glimpse of Takeru when he'd been home earlier, though they'd both wanted to sleep more than anything else.
Hiroaki wasn't sure of why they would be all that tired but he'd intended to talk to them about it later. If he'd had the time in between everything else that was going on.
He swallowed and stared. Who stood there looked like his brilliant, bright son, but not – streaks of black hair and eyes that shimmered with unholy scarlet rage.
"Yamato?"
The stranger with his son's face sneered. "No. Anbumon."
To Be Continued
Notes: I didn't originally intend to have Hiroaki involved between Anbumon and Wizarmon but I double checked my notes and realized that the night Yamato was turned would be the same night Hiroaki and his crew were out hunting for news and saw Digimon and I just could not resist.
Also, Anbumon's greatest fear will always be being powerless nad having Yamato take control back.
