A/N: The start of the first arc. In case you guys didn't realize, the story is slightly slow in developing. I want to make sure that it's good and explanatory and follows the plot that I have for it. so with that...Enjoy chapter five.

"I'd tap that in a heartbeat. Bang bang like a boomerang." -Harry

"If I buy you that coloring book, would you please shut the hell up?" -James

Chapter Five: The Baby Years

He stared after the man, his thoughts clouded in confusion. His eyes misted over and the urge to follow and grovel at his Maker's feet overwhelmed him. Maker, maker, maker, maker…His mind was reverently thinking of his Maker, of his Maker's rejection and unexplainable hatred. The tears threatening to fall, remained on the cusp of brimming over. The sensation startled him and he looked to the woman, Maria, for guidance, for purpose. The voluptuous vampire was glaring fiercely at where his Maker had stood previously.

"Miss…Miss…Miss Maria…" his childlike expression softened Maria's fierce glare. She seemed to think something over, before smiling lightly. Slowly she walked towards him as if afraid to startle him. He watched her, his inner instincts telling her that this woman like his Maker was safe. Protector. Strong. Happy. Mother.

"Ah, you are already starting to sense it, I think," she spoke softly, watching him as he purred into her gentle touch. He rubbed his face on her hand, taking in the scent of fire and wilderness that clung to her clothing and skin. At her words, he shot her a confused look, blinking sluggishly. "You are Newborn in every sense of the word," she explained calmly, ruffling his hair. "Baby in adult body, and your Maker, he is primary in who you look to, but since he es estupido, your instincts point you to me. Because I am Adult, and already Coven Leader." He continued to stare at her in confusion, but she wasn't looking at him any longer. Her gaze was drawn back to the empty doorway where his Maker had once stood. "Stupid, stupid man." Turning back to him, she patted him once more before moving towards the doorway herself.

Before he could stop himself, he let out a keening cry, like a baby keening for his mother to come back. He didn't want her to leave him too. He didn't want to be left in the darkness. In his mind, darkness meant pain, and pain meant suffering and all the other things he feared. "Please, don't...don't...don't go," he whispered in a begging tone. Frowning, Maria clucked her tongue. "Relax, mi bonita pequeno, I am not leaving you, simply going to talk to your Maker," her accent thickened at the mention of his Maker. "Then I will be back, and we will feed."

At the mention of feeding, the itch that had been gradually growing in the back of his throat, reached a peak. Hungry, so hungry. He grimaced, absentmindedly brushing his fingers against his throat. "Ah, you have just noticed your hambre." She purred soothingly. The hunger that threatened to overtake him, pushed itself into the background once again. Curiously, he looked back at Maria ready to ask what happened, and what exactly he was hungry for when he noticed that she had disappeared into the darkness of hall in search of his Maker.

His mind flashed to the blond man, the leather jacket that clung to him. His eyes held stealth in them, secrecy and ambiguity. They also contained safety. Safety from himself, from the daunting world that he had unwittingly become a member of. His Maker would protect him, he concluded, although at the moment, his faith in that statement wavered. His vampire crooned. Would he protect him? Protect someone he so obviously hated? He didn't know what he did to deserve his Maker's disgust and blatant hatred. The feeling left him with the need to prove himself worthy, to prove that he was worth something more than a look of hatred.

The logical side of him questioned what he was feeling and the thoughts that rushed through his head. He didn't understand the need for approval from his Maker, didn't understand why he sought out a man who he knew nothing of or about. He conceded to his vampire however, because somewhere he knew this was instinct. It was more basic than any thought or feeling.

Distinctly he caught the rough, rapid whispers of his Maker and Maria. Unused to hearing at such clarity when he obviously shouldn't have been able to in the first place dampened the amount of the conversation that he could hear.

"-know who he is, who he belongs to, I refuse to foster him and-"

Maria cut him off, cursing harshly, her Spanish heavy and unbroken. He could distinguish the anger that was restrained with severe effort. "He is Newborn. He is yours, as his Maker whether you like it or not, you have duties, things to do, to teach. He won't survive without you."

His Maker growled, "It would not be heartbreaking for him to die. I changed in him a lapse of judgement and already the karma of the situation has caught up to me. Harry Potter-"

"-these are your duties," there was a crumpling of paper, he grit his teeth against the noise. "Follow through with them, and then I will take him from you and you won't have to worry about him any longer." Maria's voice hinted to her victory. She was stubborn, unrelenting, Adult.

Somewhere during the conversation, he had sat up. His feet dangled from the wooden broken table. Everything was changing so quickly that he fought to keep up. His Maker didn't want him, but had to take him. He couldn't help but feel a burst of happiness at the thought. If only he could spend time with his Maker, prove that he wasn't something to hate, but something that was willing to learn, to please, then maybe...

"What are you smiling at," his Maker grumbled, scowling. Behind Maria stood, her arms crossed and a pleased look on your face. She nudged his Maker roughly with her foot pointedly.

"Nothing, sir," he responded hesistantly. The smile disappeared. "I'm sorry."

"For one, don't call me sir. The name's James. Out of some lapse of judgement, I Changed you and now you are Mine. Although I assure you I would rather that not be the case. I am stuck with you," Maker, James, spoke curtly. "I won't tolerate any off the wall behavior, so you better be prepared to learn quick, because I won't stand for that Newborn shit that keeps you acting like a child. From the looks of it, you are a seventeen year old teenager, so act. like. it."

"Are you done with your little tirade, tonto el curo? If so, let's go. He's hungry and I'm sure he will be quite the avid learner."

The itch returned in full force. He keened, his eyes pleading for something he didn't fully understand. Hungry, hungry, hungry, hungry.

"Feed me, feed me, feed me, feed me," he chanted, his feet swinging back and forth. He was overwhelmed with playfulness. His Maker would accept him, he would belong somewhere, be safe, be protected, "feed me."

James resisted the urge to punch the wall of the dilapidated house. Fuck me and my grand spur of the moment ideas.