Disclaimer: I swear when I started to write this story, I had planned to write a nice little romantic one-shot. It didn't turn out anything like I planned, but I think this works better anyway. Funny Old World Innit?

Amazingly enough, I don't own anything connected to LXG, Vampires or the lyrics by Suzanne Vega, which inspired this story.

This may just be left as it as or I may write more of it, depending on what people think and if I can find the inspiration to carry on. Thank you so much to my wonderful Beta, Silver Bow and also to Clez, who I believe threatened to explode... Now, on with story!

On The Wall

Marlene watches from the wall

Her mocking smile says it all

As she records the rise and fall

Of every soldier passing

But the only soldier now is me

I'm fighting things I cannot see

I think it's called my destiny

That I am changing

Marlene on the wall.

Marlene on the wall, By Suzanne Vega.

Part 1- Blood and Fangs.

"Are you sure?"

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life..." the female voice whispered back, the words holding a promise. Just the tone of the voice was sending a shiver down Tom Sawyer's back. He swallowed a few times, staring into those wise and beautiful blue eyes. Eyes he had stared at and fallen in love with long ago. Tom had never thought his feelings would be returned and had managed to put them aside when he had to... but today she had come to him. She had come and confessed she loved him. The young spy could feel himself sinking, drowning in the endless blue eyes, his thoughts becoming muddied and foggy as he gazed at her, her eyes so deep... such a deep blue... such a blue... such a deep red.


The thought pushed into his brain and focused his mixed up musings into one sharp, concentrated thought. Giving a yelp Tom propelled himself backwards; or at least he tried to. Hands that a few seconds ago had been softy touching his back now help him place tightly, nails digging into his tender and all too mortal flesh. Her face which just a fraction of a second ago had been kind and beautiful changed slightly, the beauty still there, but becoming colder and more cruel. The rich red lips leaned forward, the slim arms effortlessly holding Tom in place and preventing any escape.

"Now what would you have me do?" she whispered, lowering the red lips to his neck. She gently began to plant soft kisses on his neck, starting near his ear and working her way down. Tom gave another frantic struggle as he felt cool fangs scrape at his neck. She pushed him backward to put him off balance, moving at the same time. Tom crashed into the wall and he let out a whimper as her hands tightened even more, the long fingers now talons. A few salty tears came to his eyes as Tom realised he was completely trapped.

"Shush..." she crooned. "It only hurts for a second Tom..." Agent Sawyer could do nothing but stand there as the fangs extended into his neck and the female vampire drank from his young blood. Trying one last time to get through to her, Tom gathered his fading strength to whisper her name.

"Becky..." Then the world faded away from him in a great rush and the last thing he saw was Becky Thatcher looking at him, her lips drenched with blood... his blood...

"Becky!" Tom yelled, fighting the restraints he found himself in. They twisted themselves around him as he tried to escape. Breathing heavily now he fount wildly, untangling his body. With a cross between a groan and gasp he freed himself and panting he stared at the things that had kept him captive: his sheets.

"Oh God..." he said as he realised he had been dreaming... again. Shaking he pulled his trembling form to his feet, his gaze darting around the room like a trapped animals. This was the third dream in as many days. Running his fingers though his hair he staggered to the desk and sank onto the chair, placing his hands in his head.

Not again... please not again...

His whole body shook as he tried to force the images out of his head. Three nights. Three nightmares. He had woken up each time, yelling Becky's name and entangled in his bed sheets.

It's not normal to have almost exactly the same dream three times in a row surly...

Sighing Tom lifted his green eyes and glanced around his room. Aside from the sheets on the ground, his room looked rather neat and normal.

"Sawyer? Sawyer are you alright Kid, I heard a crash," a voice called though the thick wooden door and Tom jumped, his left knee smacking into the underside of his desk. With a muffled curse he clutched at his knee before hopping over to the door.

"I'm fine Skinner," he called though the door as his hand fumbled for the key to unlock it. On the other side of the wood, the invisible raised one of his invisible eyebrows but remained silent. The large silver key twisted in the lock and the door opened a few inches to revel a mop of blond hair and two green eyes, red under them.

"Bloody hell Sawyer! You look terrible!" Skinner exclaimed, before he could stop himself. Tom flinched slightly at the mention of 'blood', though the tiny movement passed unnoticed by Skinner. The American forced a tiny smile to come to his face, though the expression was not mirrored in his eyes.

"Hello to you too, Skinner," he muttered, before giving an over exaggerated yawn. "Can I help you with something?" Tom asked. The floating hat and coat stared at Tom's face, as if searching for some kind of answer there. Finally Skinner sighed and bobbed his head.

"Doesn't matter. Night, Sawyer."

"Night." Tom said, his voice strained. He carefully pulled his head back, then leant his head on the wood, his eyes closing. All of a sudden, he felt drained of energy and it took all of his famed stubborn streak not to sink to the ground right there and then. Sighing, he forced his protesting body to move. Tiny step by tiny step he crept closer to the bed before finally collapsing down on it with a sigh of relief.

Tom's eyes fluttered closed and he welcome the waiting darkness. As his mind started to slip off into sleep the image of Becky standing in front of him, his own life giving blood dripping from her lips forced itself to the front of his mind... His eyes snapped back open as a pained gasp left his mouth. Groaning, Tom knew he would get no more sleep tonight. His strength seemed to have returned, if only slightly and he sat up, swinging his legs to the ground.

His throat felt dry. Tom didn't know why he didn't realise before. He stood up and headed back to his desk, where a heavy water jug sat. His eyes caught his refection as he reached for the jug, his mind recording the fact that his face looked white and pale. The green orbs scanned his reflection without thinking about it. Suddenly he stiffened before shaking, his eyes fixed on a tiny spot on the collar of his shirt. He numbly sat down on the chair, unable to tear his eyes away from the damming evidence.

His hands were now shaking so wildly that he couldn't even grasp his white collar. His eyes were wide, the pupils dilating as he stared at the drop of red that rested almost smugly on the otherwise clean fabric. Finally his trembling fingers gripped the tip of the collar and he clumsily pulled it down to reveal his neck.

His fingers fell away, his body suddenly unable to control them. His mouth opened and shut a few times as he tried to form a proper thought. The yell that had growing in his throat died into a faint whimper as he stared at his neck, his whole body frozen, a complete contrast the shaking a few moments previously. Slowly, unable to believe his own eyes he forced the tips of his fingers to rise to his neck and touch it. Then he whipped them away as if burned.

There were two tiny puncher mark holes in his neck, the edges slightly white.