Okay, this is a re-write of the original Fated written by me, though it is no longer up. For those of you that have read the original I can assure you that the plot will barely change and that this newer version will be more intricate in detail, solid plot line, and less grammatical errors. Please note that I do not have anyone proofing theses chapters, therefore, there will be mistakes here and there, I'm sorry but I am only human. Italics are thoughts. Please enjoy this new, updated version

Alfred F. Jones and Matthew Williams were twin brothers, who were born days apart from one another. Matthew was the eldest born on July 1; Alfred was born three days later on July 4. Alfred had aged golden hair with a small tuff of hair that stood straight up, defying the laws of gravity; Matthew had that aged golden hair, though with a hint of orange was visible seen, and a long strand that curled and drooped downwards following the laws of gravity. The older was more docile and soft-spoken, almost invisible at times; the younger was more wild and boisterous in voice. Alfred's eyes matched the sunny afternoon skies; Matthew's resembled the unique shade created from the invading colors of night onto the afternoon sky.

For the twins it was a regular day: school went by period by period and then it was over. The bell had just rang releasing the students of all grades to go home. Some had sneaked out from their last period to avoid the moving sea, while others got caught and were thrown about by the movements of the others. Those who were stronger used their strength to push their way through the crowd to get onto the dirt covered yellow bus, while others rushed downstairs to their cars to give a valid attempt on beating the traffic. However, Alfred just stretched in his last period class and rubbed his eyes as his arms sank down from stretching. He had just been listening to his music while getting ahead on his calculus homework and before he knew it the period had ended to what seemed liked the blink of an eye.

Matthew, on the other hand, had been busy in the art room. The recent project was psychological portrait and the older brother had drawn his eyes and part of his hair, including his long strand that fell, and had been painting the background white that faded to black in a diagonal manner. He had finished the background by the time the bell had rang and was working on capturing the emotions behind his portrait's eyes: one light than the other to reflect the positives of his life, while the other darker to express the negatives and white tears fell into the black to represent hope. A small smile made its way onto his lips at his work, Matthew was proud of it. He grabbed a sponged and cleaned the table, while packing away his project. As he finished his eyes fell to the students rushing towards the bus, some smiled while other were sad. Laughter was heard from some, while others just kept quiet. In a way, Matthew felt envy rise in him as he saw groups of friends gathering and waiting their parent to pick them up, especially if the child's parent was his or her mother. "Hey bro," came a sudden voice, "Want to get something to eat?"

The older tensed at the voice, but instantly recognized it. "No, I'm not hungry Al. You go on ahead and I'll see you on the field."

"You sure? I don't mind picking you up something."

Orange golden locks danced as Matthew shook his head, "No, I'm not hungry."

Sighing heavily, Alfred looked at his twin. Something's wrong. What is it? "Alright Mattie. I'll see you on the field then." The younger took tentative steps away before leaving when he say no type of reaction coming from his twin. "Oh Mattie," spoke Alfred to himself when he was far enough away, "Don't keep to yourself so much . . . I'm here for you." Steps echoed as Alfred descended down the stairs and then light chirps of birds sang in the breeze as the youth walked through the parking lot to his car. The door slammed shut without meaning to, but Alfred couldn't help but not care at the moment. Instead of going out to a McDonald's or a Burger King he just sat in his car thinking.

His brother filled his mind, not just Alfred's but also Matthew. Alfred thought of how Mattie would keep to himself; Matthew just stared off as images of his twin and life flashed before him. The older kept on remembering memories from childhood to present day, whether good or bad. Alfred just sat back and decided to nap, but his concern for his big brother continued to torment him. He worried that Matthew was depressed since his best friend had disappeared a few days ago, leaving his twin alone. There was no trace of the girl except small pools of her blood where she was last assumed to be seen.

Matthew really wasn't thinking of his "friend", for she was truly a front to keep Alfred satisfied that he wasn't alone, he was thinking about how his life didn't have meaning anymore. He wasn't happy anymore. He hated being around his twin because of some unknown reason. He hated his father and "mother". Yes, he seemed to hate everything and anything. Happiness was nothing more than a dream to him as of now. Distance had appeared between him and his family, especially his twin. This phenomenon occurred recently and Matthew didn't know why or how it happened, it just did. Matthew knew he was hurting his brother and causing worry, but he couldn't help it.

Violet-blue eyes gazed upon the wall clock and a heavy sigh erupted from pale lips. "Game time," spoke Matthew, voice full of emptiness. He lifted his body up and walked down to his car. Silent steps as he rushed down the stairs and eyes squinting from the harsh rays of the sunlight making contact with him eyes. However, his eyes, even though strained, were capable of seeing his brother's navy blue 2006 Honda Civic. Feeling his eyebrows furrowing together the older walked to the car and knocked on the window, "Al?" he asked tentatively.

The knock alerted Alfred as he shot from his resting position into a sitting position. "Mattie?" Quickly he unlocked his car door and looked up at his twin. "What's up bro?" he smiled.

"I thought you said you were going to get food before the game," stated Matthew.

Sky blue eyes looked down at the floor of the Civic, "Nah man. Stuff is so unhealthy and I need to cut back on my intake."

Not again. I refuse to this again with you Al. "Don't sprout your bullshit with me because if I find out that you're going back into old habits then I swear god I'll beat the living shit out of you," spoke the older with a deadly edge in his voice.

"I'm not, Mattie, I swear!"

A blonde brow raised itself as it stared down upon it's owner's twin. "The why aren't you eating anything before a game? You aren't ill and I say you barely touch your lunch today. Explain yourself now or so God help me . . ." warned Matthew.

"Mattie I've been worried about you and I didn't have an appetite today from being worried," spoke Alfred honestly.

"You're eating something before the game." With that said Matthew turned to his red 2005 Honda Civic and dug in the backseat. He fished out a granola bar and a juice box. After grabbing his soccer bag Matthew returned to his brother and threw the food at him. "Eat it now."

"Mattie, I'm not feeling it right now. I'm worried about you ever since your friend disappeared."

Eyes shifted relentlessly as the others twitched with annoyance, "Stop trying to get of eating and eat your food. Food gives you strength and we need a strong keeper if we're to go to sectionals, win, and then go to regionals."

Alfred opened the juice and drank it slowly. He popped open his trunk as he sucked on the small straw a little at time. Then he got up and went to his trunk and zipped open his bag. Setting down the juice, Alfred dug through his bag and pulled out his jersey and shorts. He smiled lightly at seeing his number on the back, big bold black numbers that made out fifty, he pulled off his school shirt, which was a plaid button up with sleeves rolled three-fourths of the way, and exposed his tanned torso. Matthew cringed at the sight of his twin's body, his eyes quickly adverting to the blackened paved road. However, his eyes drifted back to watch his twin stretch out before slipping on his jersey. His ribs are poking out again. Not to mention his muscles seem to be there, but off . . . Al must have gone back, but why? I mean the struggle we had last time over this.

"Alfred Freedom Jones . . ." broke Matthew, ". . . Explain yourself now and be truthful, have you gone back to starving yourself?"

Rolling shoulder blades stopped as bright blue eyes stared at the nearly identical person of their owner. "For God's sake I haven't. Have you not been listening to me? I've been worried sick about you!" Alfred pulled his bag out of the trunk and slammed the door down, "I've been so worried about you because you've distanced yourself from dad, from Sarah, and from me!" Bangs could be seen in Alfred's vision as he shook his head before turning to go to the field. "HOW FUCKING DARE YOU!" yelled Alfred in pure anger. His walk turned into a sprint and he approached the soccer field quickly. There he shed his pants and put on his shorts, then his soccer jersey, which was a special ordered American flag jersey. There he practiced his jumping and when the other members of the team arrived he had them try to shoot into the goal that he was defending. Anger pulsed through him.

Matthew just watched from the parking lot and shook his head. He turned around and slid his bag into the backseat before sliding into the driver seat and driving home. His teammates watched and then turned to Alfred with curious eyes of different shades. Alfred just shook his head and concentrated on soccer. "Alfred what's going on with Matt?" asked Johnny.

"Don't want to talk about it," muttered Alfred as he waited for some sort of action.

The gleam of a black 2010 Sedan pulled up and out walked the boys' coach, Franklin Martinus. As he walked he did a mental count of who was there and immediately asked, "Where's Williams?" When no one answered his almond shaded eyes narrowed onto Alfred, "Jones do you know where your brother is?"

Eyes closing as a deadly look made it's way onto Alfred's face spoke more than his words, "He probably went home." His teammates took steps away from Alfred as they could see the imaginative flames starting to quickly encase the young American. "Matthew didn't look well when I last saw him and I told him to go home."

At that point in time Matthew had just parked his car in his family's driveway and was on his way to walking inside. His feet making small little tapping noises with each encounter to the paved driveway. He quickly walked inside and ran up the stairs to his room. Door was opened and shut with lightning speed as a black Nike bag soared in the air to land in the corner of the crimson colored room. A loud thud of the bag was followed by the creaking of springs in the bed as more weight was added to it. Long deep breaths were taken as hands searched for blankets that were pulled up over the orange tinted blonde hair. I should stop butting in his business I guess. I can't be his perfect older brother, though I never was perfect. Alfred always had the friends, the attitude, the charisma, and the luck, but when someone actual starts to care for him he blows up . . . I . . . Want to . . . Die.

A soft knock was heard underneath the plethora of blankets and a low, audible moan escaped his paled lips. The door opened quietly, the only sign being light racing into the room. "Hey Mattie," came a soft and nurturing voice, "Don't you have a sectionals game?"

"Yes," breathed Matthew as he silently begged his stepmother to leave.

"Then why are you here?" Gently steps were barely audible until a shift in weight on the bed was felt and a warm hand finding his forehead underneath the mound of blankets, "Not feeling well?" A moment of silence came, "You don't feel like you have a temperature. What's wrong sweetheart?"

Matthew just pulled away from the warmth of Sarah's hand, "Just tired and lightheaded with a headache resting against the base of my neck and head."

The weight was relieved from the bed as the door was partially closed with only Sarah's upper body still in Matthew's room. "Alright honey, just take it easy and sleep. Your body needs it if you're feeling this bad. I'll bring you up something light later. Sleep well," came the soft words and then she was gone. Matthew was allowed to wallow in his own self misery once again.

As he laid there, Matthew felt something warm spreading against his pillow opened his eyes a crack while feeling his face with his fingers. "Tears?" More of the clear liquid continued to fall as Matthew sensed something bad about to happen, but he couldn't place it. "Alfred," spoke Matthew, "Something about Alfred is going to happen." The older tried to get up to go to his twin, but his headache exploded and forced him back down onto the bed. Whimpers were made as Matthew felt helpless. "Al . . ." whispered Matthew as he fell into the black depths of peaceful unconsciousness.

Martinus just took the lie and walked to the bench and started to redo the lineup for the sectional game. As he thought of who to replace Matthew that night the opposing team's bus pulled up and out popped the blue colored jerseys. Coach Martinus got up and shook hands with their coach as the opposing team started their warm ups. As the two coaches spoke the referees started to arrive and then they called team captains as the clock of the scoreboard read five minutes to six. Alfred walked over and shook hands with the other captains. When the coin was flipped the other team called heads, but the coin landed in Alfred's team's favor. A small smile developed as he chose the goal with the sun facing him first. Once in position and when each goalkeeper gave a wave of their hand the game started. Many slide tackles, throw ins, and penalties were taken into account as the time ticked away. Alfred had used his anger to fuel his reason to protect his goal. Even after the switch he refused to let a ball in, whether he dove to capture the circular object or made an impossible maneuver during a penalty kick to make a save, he did it all. At the end of the heated match Alfred's team would carry on to the semis, while the opposing blue team went home. Alfred clapped hands and was noted by Goris, the coach to the other team, as a remarkable talent. Martinus gave a small speech for the victory and turned loose his team.

Alfred was the first one to leave the field and leave the school grounds. Anger was still throbbing within him to the point that he didn't notice a cut on his arm from a dive for a save. He drove at a fast speed to his house, music on high, and deep in thought he didn't see the figure trying to cross the road until he heard a loud thump. His feet finding the brakes before his brain could function and tell him to stop and check and his body leaving his car to see what he hit. His fears of hitting someone grew as he saw something pale behind his car. Those fears grew more as he walked closer and saw a pale hair and pale skin marred with blood. Oh God no! I can't believe I just . . .! I . . . What do I do?! Alfred sank to his knees by the bloodied figure and checked the person's neck for a pulse, nothing. "Oh God!" Alfred shrieked. His mind turning from anger to pure shock.

His pale eyes were able to scan the limp figure: male, light hair, Caucasian, lithe, ice cold, and eyebrows that made a fuzzy caterpillar look normal in size. "D-dude? H-hey, wake up m-man," tried Alfred as he gently shook the figure. "Come on man! Thi-this is a sick joke," Alfred didn't know what to think. His mind had gone into full panic to the point that he didn't realize the small twitch of fingers of the bloodied man, nor the slight jerk of his enormous eyebrows. It wasn't until a small moan-like noise escaped the man's lips and sprinted it's way to Alfred's ears, in which Alfred took a sigh in sweet relief. "Thank God! I thought you were dead!"

"There is no God boy," spoke a gruff voice from bloodied lips, "God is for the weak, for those who have no hope or know of my world."

Alfred blinked and helped he man into a sitting position, leaning the man's upper body against his car. "How are you feeling?" Eyes darted open and expressed deadliness towards the American, but quickly died away as seeing Alfred's face for the first time. "Sorry, stupid question dude," Alfred said as he tried to calm himself. His voice sounded British . . .

"Quite actually, but it is understandable to why you would ask. Do you mind helping me?" asked the Brit.

Blue eyes twinkled a little within the red lights of the taillights because Alfred had always considered himself to be a hero to any degree he could. "I sure can dude! What do you need?"

A small grin stretched it's way against the pale face of the British man. "For starters no more addressing me as dude and second don't scream." Why would I scream? I'm a total her- Alfred was broke from his thought as the man he had just hit lunged at him. Before the teen knew it he was on his back, head hitting the pavement, and vision fuzzy. "Thank you for this," spoke the Brit in a low voice, "I'll be as gentle as possible because of who you are and what you mean to me love. . ."

Love?! Alfred didn't get more than another half second to finish his thought about what the stranger had just said because the bloodied blonde sank his mouth against Alfred's throat, to where the American felt a surge of pain erupt. Alfred's eyes squinted from the pain and mouth forming an "o" as he tried to scream, but his voice was lost. It burned at the spot on his neck where the man had latched onto, almost radiating. What terrified Alfred more was the feeling of the man's smooth lips moving slightly from relaxed to tense, a drinking motion. It was then Alfred F. Jones believed that he was going to be killed right then and there. His world was becoming fuzzier and slowly being engulfed in black. The pain started to die away little by little. The saying "your life flashing before your eyes" was become a real statement for Alfred as his thought of his earliest memories to his newest ones. The only thing he could think of was how he left his relationship off with his brother. In a mangled voice Alfred whispered, "Sorry Mattie . . . Best big brother ev . . . ver . . ." The pain started to intensify again and this time Alfred passed out from it, slipping into the unknown blackness that engulfed his world.

The man kept on drinking until his thoughts about his victim's identity came crashing down onto him and he pulled away as gently as he could. Licking his lips he inspected the wound he had created and grimaced, "I wasn't as gently as I should have been to you. I'm sorry that we had to meet under these terms, but it is no longer safe for you here love." The Brit kissed Alfred's paled cheek gently before picking him up and looking at Alfred's car. "Sorry for what I'm about to do," said the Brit as he placed one of his bloodied hands underneath the car. With a flick of his wrist the car was flipped and the weight crushing down on the weaker parts of it's frame. "This time I will keep you safe."

With that, the man and Alfred disappeared into the night.

Matthew awoke to the early morning rays peeking through his widows. He frowned because his curtains were opened to reveal the light. Strange . . . I could have sworn they were shut when I got home yesterday. He shook it off as he got up and went to his twin's rooms. The older wanted to apologize and just make sure that Alfred was okay. After a few knocks that steadily grew in volume and no response from the other side did Matthew open the door: his pale head peaking in. Violet-blue eyes widened at the mess in the room, but were more shocked to see the bed empty. After closing the door the older went downstairs. However, a small frown formed when he heard his stepmother crying and his father's voice. Father is never home at this time. Ever.

Curiosity took over as Matthew followed the voices and walked into the kitchen with surprise:; his stepmother was pale and her face reddened from tears, while his father was trying to be calm, though slowly failing. "Dad, what's wrong?" Matthew asked.

Light blue eyes looked up to meet Matthew's more violet ones. "M-Mattie . . ." staggered the boy's father, "Your brother . . . Alfred . . . He . . . He never came home last night," a long pause began as Matthew's father fought back tears, "And this morning they found his car . . . flipped . . . But the . . . The worst is that Alfred . . . Your brother . . . My son is missing."

Matthew looked at his father with an unchanged look because he was hoping that his father and stepmother would stop the charade and Alfred would pop out from around the corner and yell "April Fools" even though it was months after April 1. His hope dwindled as his father went by to trying to calm his stepmother and her crying only grew. Matthew's facial expression quickly changed from hoping to pure shock. "D-dad . . ." started Matthew, "Please tell me that this is a horrible prank." Matthew tensed as he waited for his answer.

"No, Mattie. It isn't. The car . . . Al's missing . . . Blood covering the car . . ." Mr. Jones broke off into silence as he tried to keep his tears from showing and holding onto his wife, who started a new array of tears at the words her husband said.

Shaking his head, Matthew backed out of the room and went to his room. He dug around for his cellphone and called his brother's cell, hope barely there. There was a few seconds of a pregnant pause, but then the voicemail picked up, "We're sorry, but the number you have dialed is not in service at the moment. Please leave a message for . . ." a break from the electronic voice.

"Alfred F. Jones, the HERO!" came a voice that vibed with life.

"Al?" questioned Matthew for any means of hope.

Then the electronic voice came back, "after the beep."

Matthew waited for a few seconds before he heard the beep. He tried to say something, but he could get the words out. He kept trying, but every time he did nothing came out. This continued until there was another beep and at that point Matthew just hung up.

"Alfred . . ." whispered Matthew, "Where are you?"

Emerald green eyes stared intently on the sleeping human. "I will keep you safe this time," the voice carried a hint of sadness, "I will not fail you again because I love you and I'm so sorry." A pale hand of the stranger ghosted it way through Alfred's sweat laden hair. The soft intakes of breath from the sleeping form were enough to comfort the stranger as he continued to watch with awe.

I will not fail our love, because I cannot lose you again.

I hoped you enjoyed this small chapter/intro to the story. Review if you like and well . . . Like is you liked the story. Thank you for reading.