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wildroseofarran · 6 years

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Cute, Cont. || Bretan, Gralloway, Fletcher, Victoria, Emmanuel, & Guildias

Brett: "Ummmm..... let's see." Brett circled the tree in search of the tag, reading it out. "It's just over eight feet but I'll bet they can trim off those extra few inches. It's fifty-five dollars." He gave Bo a quick kiss in thanks before waving over one of the assistants and requesting that they get the tree down to eight feet.

"Absolutely, gentlemen," the man said. "If I clean up the trunk and get rid of those stray branches it should be no problem at all."

Bo: That was it? He thought it would be so much more. That was alright. He wanted to begin contributing more in their everyday life.

"How long will this take? Can we go to the bakery while they work?"

Brett: Brett turned to the guy--Hal his name badge read--and asked, "Do we?"

"You should. We had a couple people call in sick today and there are a few people in line ahead of ya'll. We should be done and dusted and ready to load the tree in about...half an hour?"

Brett nodded. "Plenty of time then. Do we pay now?"

"Yep." Hal detached the half of the tree's tag with the price on it and handed it over. "Take that inside."

Bo: Bo was quick to jump ahead of Brett in order to pay. Once that was out of the way he felt a sense of relief. He'd yet to open the last letter he'd received from - No, he didn't want to think about that right now. Anything from Norway put him in a sour mood.

"Are you ready?"

Brett: "You didn't even give me a chance to try to grab it!" Brett chuckled as he followed Bo into the nursery. He made festive small talk with the other people in line while his boyfriend paid, wishing them all a happy holiday before turning all his attention back to Bo.

"Ready," he said, taking Bo's hand and leading him back to the car.

Bo: The afternoon seemed to disappear in half the time. The phrase "time flies when you have a good time" was one Bo did not appreciate. He didn't want the hours to pass like minutes, the minutes like seconds. The world needed to pace like molasses.

Which was why, once home, he was adamant about putting up the decorations on the tree. The baking would have to wait.

"We can order in tonight? I can make us something warm to drink though. Maybe mulled wine later?"

Brett: Brett would've agreed with Bo's train of thought if he'd known it. He wanted days like this where it was just the two of them in their own little bubble to be endless. Especially today. Today was one of those days that reminded him exactly why he loved Christmas.

He looked up from his battle with the lights and nodded. "Absolutely to both, baby. Mulled wine will go really great with the cookies. What are you in the mood for?"

Bo: "Food wise?"

Brett: "And also movie wise."

Bo: Bo thought for a moment. "I...I have a craving for...bread. Not just any bread. I don't know how to describe it other than taste. It's...I think a memory."

Brett: "That Italian place has really good ciabatta. Is that close?"

Bo: "It's a warm bread...like...ginger. It has dates in it and...I smells like cinnamon." Jul...June...no. Jule...something. Ugh. It was on the tip of his tongue. What did that mean? "Probably something I've had while here."

Brett: "Ginger with dates and cinnamon....the only thing I can think of is that cake-ish thing we had at that European bakery in Whites Beach."

Bo: "It's - How would you feel about roasted potatoes and green beans?"

Brett: "Very strongly in favor." And heading for his laptop.

Bo: "Going to order online?"

Brett: "Yep. I swear half the time they don't hear the phone. Do we also want broccoli and cheese soup and garlic bread?"

Bo: "You go ahead. I'm in a potato mood."

Brett: "....Would you judge me if I got the roasted potatoes and mashed potatoes?"

Bo: "Is your craving worse than my craving?"

Brett: "It might just be," he chuckled. "It's the picture on their menu page, it looks so good."

Bo: "Order however much." He was in the middle of debating how to begin with the string of lights.

Brett: "Glorious vegan feast it is!"

Once the food was ordered, he set the laptop aside and considered the tree. "Which one of us is going to get up on the step ladder and which one of us is going to start the winding?"

Bo: Bo had yet to question why it was the sheriff had transitioned himself to veganism. He hadn't asked him to. Not that he minded. He didn't have to stare at ugly carcasses anymore.

"The more experienced one should do more work," he smirked.

Brett: He laughed. "Then it looks like I'm doing the winding. Gonna need your help with the top part though."

Bo: "Alright." A saucepan was pulled from its hiding place, ingredients for mulled wine gathered in a row. "Do you spend time with...your mother for Christmas?"

Brett: Brett shook his head. "Nope, not for a long time. She brings by cookies and a present for me on Christmas day and that's it. Oh, and a card she signed on my father's behalf."

Bo: Bo stared at the cinnamon sticks, mind elsewhere. "What if you broke that cycle?"

Brett: His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

Bo: "What if you just showed up?"

Brett: "At their house? On Christmas?"

Bo: "She shouldn't have to visit you like you're in a prison."

Brett: "I prefer it that way, and so do they."

Bo: "How can that be love?"

Brett: "It isn't, sweetheart. There's never been any love or warmth in my family. The cookies, present, and card? It's familial obligation. Nothing more. Simon doesn't even care enough to sign it himself."

Bo: "But your mother, she cares."

Brett: "She feels guilty."

Bo: "She carried you for nine months, suckled you, witnessed your first step. I don't think she's going to give up."

Brett: "She carried me and breastfed me, but she didn't witness my first step. Megan Hunt did."

Bo: He looked his way, brow furrowed.

Brett: "Meg is a professor at the community college and she and her son used to live next door to them. She babysat me on Sunday mornings when Simon and my mother went to church. She caught my first step on video." Brett smiled softly. "I think she took more pictures of me than my parents did. She loves kids. They've always been welcome at her house."

Bo: "Why wouldn't they just take you to church?"

Brett: "They went twice a week. Took me on Wednesdays."

Bo: He wondered if his mother had done the same, wondered if she had been a ghoul. Given what the revenant knew, he couldn't shake the feeling that he didn't want to know.

"Mm..."

Brett: Brett went over to kiss Bo's cheek. "It's better that I don't go over there."

Bo: "I'm just being rebellious for you." He leaned himself into the sheriff.

Brett: "I appreciate it," he said softly, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend. "Maybe...I'll ask her to stay for a cup of tea."

Bo: "Now, if only we can get rid of your other problems."

Brett: "If only." He squeezed Bo tight. "Enough sad things. This is our happy day."

Bo: "When was the last time you had to see him?" Him. "I never see you...with...in a way that..."

Brett: "Over a month ago." His voice was soft. Ashamed. "Sometimes I wish I wasn't sheriff."

Bo: "How often does he see you?"

Brett: "About once a month. Sometimes a bit more."

Bo: "If you stop, someone else will take your place; not just as sheriff, but his...thing."

Brett: Brett nodded. "I know." And he hated that.

Bo: "Do you...like it?"

Brett: "I used to," he admitted quietly.

Bo: Bo turned to face him, arms crossed. "Tell me."

Brett: "At the beginning, when I couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't. When I was still the empty, starving shell that walked out of Simon's house one day and I couldn't...really see what they are."

Bo: "Do you want him?"

Brett: "No."

Bo: "Not in any way?"

Brett: Brett shook his head. "None. I only want you."

Bo: For a long time there was silence, studying his eyes, his wrinkles, his lips.

Brett: There would be nothing but sincerity in Brett's expression. In his eyes. In his heart. The man standing before Botan was a far cry from the guilty, ashamed man that gave in to being in a ghoul and let it rule him. He was stronger now, at peace with himself.

And it was all because of Bo. Because being with him--loving him--had made him feel more whole than he'd ever felt. Whole and happy and strong.

"Jeg elsker deg med hele mitt hjerte, Botan Nowicki."

Bo: Bo stilled, surprised by the obvious practice Brett must have taken to profess his love so flawlessly. He wanted to fly away with his heart, but instead placed his fingertips over Brett's lips.

"Don't see him anymore. Don't take...anymore."

Brett: He thought about the gift sitting in Peabody's house and smiled. He should be scared. He knew he should. But right now all he could feel was certainty in that gift.

"I won't see him and I won't take anymore."

Bo: Hands came alive, rested over Brett's ribs, squeezed. "You promise me?"

Brett: The smile grew. "I promise you, Botan. I belong to you and myself and no one else. I was planning on going to Callum MacGillvray's shop and telling him that I was done being a ghoul."

Bo/MJ: "I'm cautious about your promises," he whispered. "I'll take it just the same..." He was asking for a lot, he knew. If an attempt was made, then the outcome wasn't nearly as important as the promise kept.

Bo leaned in for a kiss; behind him began to darken. The backsplash tile patterned with red and pink lifelike hearts. The room began to smell of pumpkin and lavender.

Brett: "I know you are," Brett whispered back. Which was exactly why it was so important to him to keep them. For a while now he'd been considering going to Callum, and this seemed like the perfect time.

Brett leaned in just as Bo did, poised to pull his boyfriend into his arms and kiss him and lavish him with all the affection his heart desired.

But when he did pull Botan into his arms, it wasn't out of passion; it was protectiveness and fear caused by the sudden change to the atmosphere inside their home. "What the hell is going on?!"

Bo: "What?" Hands held to Brett's face, concern etched in Bo's brow and subtle hint of crow’s feet. "What's wrong?"

Brett: Bewildered eyes locked with Bo's. What the hell? "What do you--can't you smell that? Can't you see it's gotten dark--look at the tile!" He pointed. "What the hell happened to the tile?!"

Bo: "What -" He looked back, gestured to the backsplash. "What are you talking about?"

Brett: "Th-there are hearts on it! Right there, pink and red hearts!" Fear was starting to creep in now. "I can't smell the tree, I can't smell you. All I can smell is...fucking pumpkin pie! And soap!"

Bo: "Brett, ro deg ned. There is nothing there. The house smells like the tree, like cinnamon and your cologne. I don't smell anything else. There are no hearts."

Brett: Was he having a stroke? Weren't weird smells and hallucinations signs of a stroke?

No, he couldn't be having a stroke, he felt fine.

Brett pulled Bo close and buried his face in his neck, breathing him in and willing whatever was happening away.

Bo: Bo's scent was completely masculine. Musky, anise, and fennel. His soft pine and powder had somehow faded to nothing.

Brett: It wasn't real. Whatever he was seeing, whatever he was experiencing, it wasn't real. If it was real Botan would be experiencing it with him, but he wasn't so it wasn't.

What was real was the beautiful man in his arms. Their tree. The beautiful day they were having. That was real, and that's what he would use to anchor himself.

He lifted his head and softly kissed Bo.

Bo: Fingers curled into Brett's hair, still very much dizzy with bewilderment but kissing just the same. The sound of the doorbell had him growling into the sheriff's mouth, though.

"Don't answer it."

Brett: "It's probably just our food, baby," Brett said softly, pulling Botan into another kiss and nuzzling him to comfort them both. "If it's not I'll just tell whoever it is to leave. Today is our day." And nothing else was going to intrude on it.

Bo/MJ: Oh right, food. He glanced to his watch. That was swift, was his flitted thought as the doorbell rang again.

"Mm. Don't forget to tip."

Bo remained in the kitchen, unaware of the man standing leaned into the doorframe, worn black leather jacket zipped and buttoned just to the collar, sagging loosely on one side.

MJ Calloway smiled as soon as the door was opened. His hair was the same, skin still pale, eyes slightly darkened. His smile, though wide, didn't reach his heterochromatic eyes.

"Hello, hello."

Brett: "I won't." He gave Bo one more quick kiss before pulling some money out of his wallet and going to the door.

......And not finding Richie the delivery boy on his doorstep.

Brett blinked. This was the very last person he expected to see today. "Hello, MJ. What are you doing here?"

MJ: "What, that's all?" he laughed, a sound which turned the head of the man in the kitchen. "C'mere, I got somethin' for ya."

Brett: "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude. I'm just...surprised." Both that MJ was here and that he'd used the doorbell instead of throwing pebbles at one of his windows.

"Ah...can it wait? It's just that I'm the middle of something."

MJ: MJ didn't give two shits about the man in the next room. Not a single thought was regarded as he leaned closer, smelling exactly like the fluffy tree in their living room, cheek pressed to Brett's.

"No, it can't wait. What I'm gonna give ya can't wait, n'I miss ya."

Brett: MJ might not have cared or given a thought to Bo, but Brett did, and gentle and polite as it was, he leaned away and broke the contact between them.

"I'm sorry, MJ, but today is--"

"Evenin', sheriff!"

Brett looked past MJ and spotted Richie coming up the walkway, arms laden with bags of food.

"Hey, Richie. What do I owe you?"

"Thirty-four fifty."

Brett handed the kid two twenties in exchange for the bags. "Keep the change."

"Thanks, sheriff! Happy holidays!"

"Happy holidays, Richie."

"Happy holidays, Mr. Botan!" Richie called loudly enough for Bo to hear.

Bo/MJ: MJ leaned away and smiled to himself, eyes to the kitchen, locked with the human within. Bo didn't give his farewell as he usually would have. There was an awkward silence until the delivery boy was out of sight.

"I see," he whispered. "I've been replaced."

Brett: "MJ..." Brett began, stopping the sigh before it left his lips. "This is my boyfriend, Botan. Botan, MJ. I'm really very sorry but we have plans and I really don't want an unpleasant scene today. Or ever, but I'll settle for not having one today."

MJ: "Guildias told me he hasn't fed ya," he continued, as though nothing had been said. "Won't be a scene if ya come with me." Pure green eyes stared intently, features soft, but giving absolutely nothing.

Brett: "I'm not coming with you, MJ. I'm going to go inside and have dinner with my boyfriend."

MJ: "Brett...I brought ya a present."

Brett: "What present?"

MJ: "How will ya know unless ya come with me?"

Brett: "You could tell me. I'm not coming with you, MJ. Please respect that."

MJ: "So ya want me t'tell ya what I got ya?"

Brett: "That's why I asked."

MJ: "Does he tell ya what he got ya 'fore ya get it?"

Brett: This time Brett did sigh. Why did something always have to happen? Why couldn't he and Bo just have one day to themselves that was peaceful and happy without something or someone deciding to intrude and make it end on a sour note?

"MJ, please. I'm not going to get into this with you. I just want to go inside and have dinner with my boyfriend. If you don't want to tell me what this present is, then thank you for the thought but I am going inside."

MJ: The Ravnos began to wilt. "Here I thought ya still loved me. That man that kissed and licked my neck n'didn't want me t'go." He soon recovered. "It's either I do it t'day or Guildias comes over here. Which way is it gonna be, sheriff?"

Brett: "Tell him not to bother." There was a part of him that wanted to give in because it was easier than this but that part was shrinking a little bit more every day. He wasn't the man cowering in the corner anymore, cowering and praying for his life. But then he wasn't the man clinging to any affection he got just because he was starved for it either.

He was the man who was in love with Botan Nowicki and who wouldn't let anything come between them again. "I'm not taking your blood, I'm not taking his blood, I'm not taking anyone's blood ever again." It was said gently, but there was no waver to his voice. No hesitation. He did not relish hurting MJ and he was sorry for it, but he wouldn't give in. "I'm done being a ghoul, MJ."

MJ: MJ closed his eyes, a calm washed over him, and the green in his eyes, which was all there seemed to be suddenly, deepened, darkened. "Sheriff Parker, I don't mean t'sound cruel. I came here with the best intentions. Ya know me. Ya know ya mean a lot t'me, but I just got my privileges t'be here returned. Ya know how this works. Ya know what he's capable of. Ya know how far his generosity goes. I don't wanna be like him, but lately I have no fuckin' patience."

The vampire turned the corner, disappearing for but a moment, returning with a leash in hand. Tethered to the end was perhaps the smallest teacup chihuahua to exist.

"This is Maximillian. Merry fuckin' Christmas."

Brett: Brett unconsciously took half a step backwards. That...that had to be a trick of the light. Didn't it? Or a trick of whatever it was that was happening to him today. MJ's eyes weren't that dark. He was certain they weren't that dark.

"Yes, I know," he said softly. And it scared him, but it wasn't going to stop him. "I know very well what he's capable of and it's because I do know that I've given it so much thought. I'm not doing this lightly." Neither he nor the precious man standing behind him could afford any foolhardiness. "You don't have to be like him. You have a choice, there's always a choice. But if being in Edenton means that much to you then don't tell him anything. Don't give him a chance to shoot the messenger. I was already planning on telling him a different way."

He took another step inside as MJ stepped away, wanting to reach for Botan but also not wanting him to come any closer to the door. This whole situation suddenly had him feeling so on edge that he nearly jumped when MJ returned with...

Was that a chihuahua?

"You...got me a dog?"

MJ: MJ looked to the animal and back. It seemed content at his feet licking air.

"Yeah. D'ya not remember anything 'bout me n'the time we shared? Ya took care of Miss Swiss. This is thank you."

Brett: Speaking of Miss Swiss....

Brett stepped just inside the door and opened the drawer of the table beside the door, taking out a thick envelope. He offered it to MJ.

"These are pictures of her. There are a couple of flash drives too with videos on them. I thought you might like to have them since you didn't get to say goodbye to her."

MJ: MJ smiled at the gift, smiled at the human giving it to him. "This is pretty equal. Thanks." He paused, stared down at Maximilian starting up at him.

"Been able t'talk t'animals?" It would have stopped after a month of MJ's absence.

Brett: "You're welcome." He shook his head. "No, I haven't." He hadn't been able to do any of the things he was able to do after drinking vampire blood, and even though he no longer had the power to bend violent drunks to his will, he was grateful to just...be Brett.

"Thank you for the gift. For Maximilian."

MJ: "Brett... Can we speak outside?"

Brett: Brett shook his head. "No. There's only one person you should be talking to now that you're back in Edenton and it isn't me.

"Pete's back from France."

MJ: "...Ya don't seem t'understand the position you're in."

Brett: "Yes, MJ, I do." He turned to Bo, tried to tell him how much he loved him without saying anything at all.

"I'm standing at the gallows."

MJ: "I'd rather it be me."

Brett: "And I'd rather not be there at all. In fact there's only one place I want to be right now."

MJ: "Enough."

Brett: "Yes, it is. Go see Pete, MJ. Thank you for Maximilian." He closed the door and locked it.

MJ: Inside, the tree was gone, Bo was gone, the house was silent.

Brett: There was fear clawing at Brett's throat as he closed his eyes and silently held his hand out for Botan's. Everything in his house appeared to be gone and now he knew MJ was the one doing it but everything in his house wasn't gone. He knew Botan was still there.

Let him take my hand, he prayed. Please God, let him take my hand. Let all of this fall away. Bring the serenity back to us both, guide us and keep us. Please put his hand in mine.

Bo/MJ: MJ watched from the window with neutral expression. He hated having to do this, he really did, but he was also sick and tired of being underestimated, of no one listening. This was going to happen. He hadn't asked Brett his opinion. He'd given two options. He'd really rather not have to deal with Guildias any more than he had upon his return. He remembered the sheriff's scream, how he held to himself and prayed. He remembered the faraway look in his eyes after taking Guildias' blood. This was not how he wanted this evening to go. He missed Brett; missed their beautiful moment together. Foolishly he had believed they could replicate it.

Quickly, he stepped out of the way as the front door swung open.

"Brett?! Brett! Brett, where are you?!"

Nothing. Neither would hear or see the other.

Brett: Tears slipped from Brett's eyes, his breath quickened, his heart pounded. "Don't be him," he said softly, speaking to MJ. "Don't be him. You don't have to be him, you're not this cruel. You know what it's like to lose your heart. Don't take mine. Don't be him."

He sank his knees and clasped his hands together. "But now, this is what the Lord says—he who created you, Jacob, he who formed you, Israel: Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I called you by name; you are mine." Brett's voice was soft, pleading. But not with MJ. "When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not burn; the flames will not set you ablaze."

MJ: As the door remained open, MJ stepped within. He would be what Brett could find, walking around in front of him, wrist open.

"Don't be...Guildias? Don't be the Devil? Don't be what, Brett?"

Brett: "Guildias, don't be Guildias. Don't be Gertrude. Don't be any of them."

Brett wiped his eyes and continued to pray. He prayed for this to end, for someone to intervene, for God himself to descend from the Heavens and deliver them from all of this.

MJ: "Just drink this n'ya get him back. It's that simple."

Brett: "If I drink that blood then I won't deserve him."

MJ: "Did ya before?"

Brett: "No. I didn't. And God gave him to me anyway, and I am going to spend the rest of my life trying to deserve him and be worthy of him."

MJ: "Did I mean nothin' to ya?"

Brett: "You told me yourself that it wasn't real. You told me I felt what I felt because of the blood."

MJ: "I told ya a lot of shit, didn't I?"

Brett: "Yes, MJ, you did. You told me to take care of Pete. You told me to take care of Miss Swiss. You told me you were leaving Edenton. You told me never to go into the Harrak house."

MJ: "I told ya so much because I cared about ya. I came t'town when I was banished just t'see ya. Did ya know that? Been banished a few times. Yet I still came t'feed ya."

Brett: "Being banished meant you were free. You didn't have to live under the rule of Gertrude Draegan, why on earth would you subject yourself to it again? A ghoul can't be worth that."

MJ: "Really? Ya ain't worth that?"

Brett: "I'm a puppet! My life isn't my own!"

MJ: "All ya have t'do is what they tell ya. Ya think I wanna see ya like this? Ya think I want someone like Guildias doin' this t'ya instead of me? I thought ya gave a fuck about me. I thought 'at least it'll be someone he actually desires.'"

His wrist was offered again. "I don't want ya t'fuckin' die, Brett."

Brett: "They told me to cover up a murder, MJ! They told me to hand over the love of my life so they could do God knows what to him! That's what they told me to do and I did it! I did it all! They took what I worked so hard for, the thing I was most proud of having accomplished and they tainted it! They destroyed it!

"Chains are still chains whether you lock me in them or Guildias does. Having you do it doesn't make them cut into my skin any less, it doesn't make me any less disgusted when I look in the mirror."

MJ: "Was it easier for ya t'take him t'Gertrude or would ya rather someone else have done it?" The only reason he knew any of this was because he had asked. He didn't care about any politics, anything else Guildias was prepared to update him on. He'd asked about Brett; that was all he needed to know.

Brett: "Would it hurt more to have your heart torn out of your chest or cut out with a knife?"

MJ: "They didn't have t'give him back to ya. They don't have t'ever do anything ya say. D'ya understand, Brett? Guildias gave him back n'put effort into your plea because you're a good ghoul that does as you're told. What d'ya think will happen t'that human if ya disobey?"

Brett: "I'm a good ghoul," Brett repeated, more tears spilling as he shook his head. "My dad was right. He was right. I'm going to Hell. He was wrong about the reason but he's right about where I'm going."

MJ: MJ rested on his knees in front of him, watched, admired with eyes like that of a stranger.

"'Firsts are always special,'" he quoted. Words from the sheriff over a year ago. Words that he had carried with him. Words Victoria now used for her entertainment.

Brett: "Firsts are always special..." Firsts are always special? Why did that sound so familiar? Had he said that? He had...he said it to MJ when MJ had told him he was he first ghoul. But why repeat it now? Just to torture him? Because MJ was going to such lengths to remind him that he was a breath away from getting himself killed by refusing to take blood?

MJ was trying to convince him to break his promise to Bo. Why would he say that to convince him?

Brett looked up and immediately scrambled away, eyes going wide with fear.

MJ: "Where are you going?"

Brett: "What's wrong with your eyes? Is that a trick, too? Why bother?"

MJ: There was a pause. "What are you talking about?"

Brett: "Your eyes are green! Why aren't they green?!"

MJ: "Of course they're green."

Brett: Brett shook his head. "No, no, they're not. Not right now. I thought it was a trick of the light but it's not."

MJ: They were green, but it was much too dark. Victoria was in a mood, and it was reflected in his irises. He didn't know; he'd never known.

"Strange change of subject."

Brett: "WHY ARE YOUR EYES DARK? WHAT'S MAKING THEM DARK?"

MJ: Parker's face was held in both hands. "Why are you yelling?"

Brett: It was pure panic. His house was empty, he couldn't see Botan, MJ was trying to force feed him. MJ wouldn't try to force feed him, not unless there was a gun to his head. Brett had spent enough time with to be certain of that and right now, yelling was the only thing that was giving him some semblance of control.

He suddenly understood Pete Graham a lot better.

"Because those aren't MJ's eyes! You're not MJ!" Brett made to scramble away again. "You know things MJ knows but you're not MJ!"

MJ: Firmly those hands held to the back of his neck. "D'ya hear yourself right now?" The accent made its return. "Listen to yourself! D'ya even remember what we talked about in November? Or - Or August? You're not my Brett, either!"

Brett: Brett wasn't crying anymore. Tears were still wet on his cheeks but no new ones fell. They'd been edged out by fear, by confusion. By the absolute certainty that there was more happening here than just tricks and his refusal to continue being a ghoul.

He blinked. MJ sounded like himself again. "You...you don't realize it's happening."

MJ: "What...the fuck...are ya talkin' about?"

Brett: "Your eyes changed! Your voice changed! You were someone else!"

MJ: "Because my eyes are green - which they've always been - ya think m'someone else? The fact that ya looked at me like I was just the mailman when I knocked on your door - but no, it's me. I'm the one that's changed."

Brett: "You've been gone a year and that wasn't what I meant! My eyes are still blue, my voice sounds the same! Yours weren't and yours didn't and I'm not being fucking metaphorical!"

MJ: "What d'ya want me t'tell ya?"

Brett: "THE REASON!"

MJ: "Leave it!"

Brett: "YOU SHOW UP AT MY HOUSE AFTER A YEAR WITH A CHIHUAHUA THAT CAN FIT IN MY COFFEE MUG AND MAKE ME THINK I'M FUCKING CRAZY AND MAKE ME UNABLE TO SEE MY BOYFRIEND AND MY STUFF BEFORE PULLING AN EXORCIST AND TRYING TO BULLY ME INTO DRINKING BLOOD AGAINST MY WILL AND NOW YOU'RE TELLING ME TO LEAVE IT?"

MJ: "I was gone for a year! One! Ya meant the world t'me! Ya act like I mean absolutely nothin'! Suddenly ya don't want blood? Ya were with him that night I crawled through your window! Ya drank from me n'he was right there!"

Brett: "Twelve months! Fifty-two weeks! Three hundred and sixty-five days! How much could I have possibly meant to you if you stayed away that long? Did you really expect nothing would change in all that time?! I FELL IN LOVE IN THAT ONE YEAR! YOU MANAGED TO GET YOURSELF POSSESSED IN THAT ONE YEAR! I'M NOT GOING TO APOLOGIZE FOR NOT WANTING TO BE THE MAN THAT BETRAYED MY HOME TOWN!"

MJ: "A year doesn't turn someone into a fuckin' stranger! I was gone t'protect ya! T'grow n'get better n'be better! D'ya know how fuckin' hard it's been on me? No! Ya don't! Ya don't know 'cause ya didn't ask! I just wanted t'talk n'give ya what ya used t'love! What brought us so close n'I fuckin' missed you, goddammit!" Pink tears had accumulated in his heterocromaic eyes. He took a breath, absolute hurt resonating.

Brett: "A year forces someone to force themselves to move on! You told me to tell myself it was only the blood and that's what I did, MJ! That's what I had to do! I had to make you a stranger! You were gone! I fell in love! I fell in love and I hurt him and I failed him and you're not the only one that feels they have to get better and be better!

"I'm a junkie! I'm a goddamn fucking ghoul and I'm tired of it! Somewhere someone decided that I was the kind of ghoul that gets bonded and I can't fucking help that but I can certainly fucking try! And if I go crazy and die trying to be more than the need for blood then God bless me, that's the way I'm meant to fucking go!"

MJ: Hands cupped Parker's face again. Parker. His Parker. He was more than stolen moments cherished every night for so many lonely nights.

"I told ya that, n'we both realized it was more. I didn't expect ya t'replace Pete. I just wanted ya t'be happy. I didn't want someone t'take advantage of ya, like Guildias. S'why I'm here. Because if anyone in the world should have such privilege, I wanted it t'be me. This is your life now n'I can't help that. I can't, Brett. I can't n'I'm sorry. The best I can do is be your domitor instead of someone else. M'tryin' so hard not t'give in n'be like them. It's - It's so hard. Fight it in other ways. Don't talk like you're fuckin' suicidal, because he needs ya n'I need ya."

Brett: "You've never been like them, not in all the time I've known you. I don't want you to be someone like Gertrude Draegan and you don't have to be. You can be different, you can make a different choice! This you can make a different choice, not the you that has darker eyes, and you've been making it all this time."

Brett closed his eyes. He couldn't cry anymore. Crying wouldn't solve anything. Crying wouldn't bring his Botan back into his arms where he belonged. He had to make MJ understand. He just had to.

"I made a promise to him, MJ. You know what happened the last time I made a promise to him? I broke it. I was weak and I broke it and I can't do that to him again. I have to find a way to change my life and this is the only way I can think to fight it. I don't want to die, but being a ghoul is what made me hurt Bo. It made me hurt someone I love. How would you feel if something you couldn't control made you hurt Pete? Something that was forced on you, that you never asked for?"

MJ: The silence was brief before action. A hand grasped Brett's throat, and those eyes flickered swiftly this time.

"Don't...talk...about Pete."

Brett: Brett saw the flicker but couldn't react quickly enough to get away. His mind was racing too fast, his emotions too frayed and ragged.

This was the noose, and it was tightening.

"MJ..." he managed, desperately trying to remove the vampire's hand, to take deep breaths. "It's not you....it's not you..."

MJ: "What if somethin' made me hurt him? I have. What if somethin' was forced on me? Fuckin' everything. What I am, what I've done. Even you were forced on me."

Brett: In and out, in and out. He had to breathe, he had to see Bo again. "It's the other MJ...he's doing this....not you..."

MJ: "You're so set on there bein' someone else. Just call em Victor, Brett." Fitting, she thought, if this body would one day be hers to claim.

Brett: Victor. Victor was the one doing this. Victor--whoever he was and however he came to be--was going to be the one that killed him.

Desperation had Brett digging his nails into MJ's hand and redoubling his efforts to dislodge his hand. "MJ, h-help me...help me!" Fear and panic were making it harder and harder to catch his breath. All his training seemed to have gone right out the window, all his stone-cold calm and years of experience had vanished into thin air.

"Not you...help me...."

MJ: Help...him. Brett was begging for his help. Why was he begging like that? Why was his desperation so gorgeous? Why should he listen to a man that had forgotten him?

Jade eyes flashed, mixed with familiar hazel, and the vampire blinked. Brett should never have to beg and plead as he had that night at the station. He should never be put in these situations. He was a delicate but resilient ghoul and he deserved the world.

Despite the softening look in his eyes, his right hand joined his left around the sheriff's throat.

Brett: Brett began to struggle in earnest, trying with all his might to find some sort of leverage, some way to free himself from MJ's hold while he was still conscious enough to try and save himself.

But even his best efforts weren't nearly enough to hold off a vampire. Already his breaths were becoming increasingly shallower. His vision was going fuzzy around the edges, his limbs weakening from lack of proper oxygen. He was starting to fade, and he didn't know whether the flicker he saw was real or the hopes of a dying man.

"Victor...ia....not....n-not...."

MJ: A single hand began to ease. The wound still present on his wrist was forced against Brett's lips.

"'Victor...ia'?" The vampire laughed, green eyes glistening. The laughter soon faded into a sigh, eyes closed. Despite the violence, the struggle, the offering of blood was still very much orgasmic.

Brett: Brett tried to turn his head away, to keep his mouth closed no matter how much harder that made it to breathe and no matter how much that addicted whisper in the back of his mind urged him to give in.

'Don't swallow it,' he told himself, trying to spit it out and keep his mouth glued shut at the same time as tears flowed freely from his eyes and ragged sobs shook his body. 'Don't swallow it, you're better than it. It's evil, you can't swallow it. You can't break your promise. You can't break it, you can't. Just die, just die, don't swallow it, don't.'

MJ: A threat towards Botan's safety was on the cusp of utterance, but MJ refrained. He couldn't, for the life of him, imagine why he would. It was cruel beyond measure, but it was there, nagging.

Eyes darkened once more.

"I wonder what Guildias will do...to the human...when he finds out about this."

Brett: 'Botan....my Botan...' he thought, crying harder as their conversation came floating back to him through the haze of suffocation and death and struggle.

Don't take anymore. You promise me?

I promise you, Botan.

I'm cautious about your promises.

I know.

Brett looked up at MJ, at the monster inside him that was taking his life. There wasn't just fear and panic in his eyes. There was fury.

I promise you, Botan.

He spit out whatever was in his mouth and managed a scream.

I promise you, Botan.

Bo/MJ/Fletcher: From the backyard, Bo stilled. Had he heard something? It sounded so far away, like in an empty well.

"Brett!" He felt as though he were calling to a dog. This was ridiculous. The sheriff was just there in the living room, staring at...someone named MJ. Why was that name so familiar?

The scream succeeded in forcing his wrist deeper into Brett's open mouth. By now he was straddled, considerable weight against his lungs. Dark blood trickled down his tongue, sweet and coppery and smooth, gliding down his throat. It was only a matter of time.

"Victoria."

A snarl, MJ looked up to the doorway, stared into the eyes of a man not seen in over a year. For a moment there was a slip, a look of confusion as though staring into the face of a stranger. Victoria had forgotten what Fletcher Goodman looked like.

The Christmas tree came into focus, the scent of cinnamon and pine.

Brett: No no no no no! NO! MJ wouldn't make him swallow, MJ wouldn't make him keep that evil in his system! He wasn't going to be the man that betrayed the love of his life.

With his last burst of energy, Brett abandoned his efforts to remove MJ's hand from his throat and instead focused on removing his wrist so he could make himself throw up. He focused on trying to gouge out those horrible, dark, evil eyes.

If he was meant to die tonight, he wasn't going to go without a fight.

....Victoria....

A voice said Victoria. Not his voice. Whose voice? God's? Had God come to take him at last? Why did God look like Fletcher Goodman?

Bo/MJ/Fletcher: The arm forcing Brett's head against the hard wood floor had no intention of being removed. It welded him to the floor with supernatural strength never once used on the ghoul before. Perhaps that was the problem, Victoria thought, reaching into MJ's memories. They were all too soft on this piece of meat. In all her years she'd never had such difficulty with a slave. They worshipped the ground in which she stepped.

"Victoria, let him the fuck go."

The vampire simply stared, leaning away from those desperate hands.

"Try fuckin' harder, MJ. Ya don't deserve Peter if this is all the better ya can do!"

The backdoor creaked open.

Brett: Nails sank and scratched into MJ's skin, legs flailed and kicked in their hopeless search for leverage, getting weaker and weaker by the second.

The door creaked like the stairs in his mother's house. He remembered them so well. He used to like to read on those stairs, he pretended to climb Everest. He'd put that old white duvet at the top because it looked like snow.

Brett reached into the closet and grasped for it, it was just there out of reach. He needed the chair from his desk to reach the snow to put on the stairs.

His eyes slipped closed as he reached for it, and his arm fell limp.

Bo/MJ/Fletcher: "The fuck are ya doin' here, Fletch?"

His grip loosened, hand transferring from throat to mouth, forcing it closed, fingers dangerously close to cutting off his airway.

"Ya ain't got no right t'treat him like that."

"What d'you know about it?"

"Victoria, get up."

Quietly, Bo opened the bottom cabinet. Carefully...carefully he removed the ugly cast iron skillet he refused to cook with. He'd never seen the point of owning one until now. Today it was going to be used as a weapon.

"Do I know you?"

In debate, the Samsa licked his lips, took a cautious breath and shook his head. "Ya sayin' that means a lot t'me." It meant that up to this point he had been successful. It was now shattered thanks to his pathetic humanity. He'd died for this man once before, according to a certain druid. So long as he kept his eyes on him, kept the vampire's attention long enough...

But he looked. He looked back to the kitchen and so too did the vampire, greeted with a desperate swing of iron and a scream.

Brett: He was waiting for the fire. Hell was fire, wasn't it? It was fire and brimstone that burned and tortured the sinners that were thrown into it. He was one of those sinners, and he was being thrown into it.

He waited for the burn, waited for the pain and eternity of suffering and the smell of scorched flesh....

...and got air.

Brett eyes flew open as he curled onto his side, gasping for breath only to end up coughing and choking on the blood that was still in his mouth and throat in an effort to expel it completely.

Bo/MJ/Fletcher: Shutting the door was the first step to containing the situation. Bo fell to the floor and scrambled for the sheriff. The frying pan crashed to the floor ignored. Fletcher grabbed for MJ's leg, yanked the snarling creature away from the renewed ghoul and human before he had a chance to bite.

"MJ! Look at me! Look at me!" Now it was he who was straddled, arms pinned by his wrists. There was no where for him to go. His strength, no matter how great, would not match that of a fera. He was nothing close to a Brujah.

"MJ, it's okay! You're better than her! Ya can kick her out!"

Brett: There was only one phrase repeating itself on a loop in Brett's head as he crawled away from death and stuck his fingers down his throat to make himself retch: Get it out, get it out, get it out! Out! Get the evil out, get it out!

He didn't know how much blood he managed to swallow but whatever was in his stomach was soon on the floor. Only then did he crawl toward the beautiful golden angel--his beautiful golden angel--who'd rescued him, clinging to him for dear life his abused body and torn throat wracked with sobs.

Bo/MJ/Fletcher: The muscles of Brett's arms and legs began to tighten, warmed by their renewed strength. Much of the blood was expelled, but the affect had taken place. His preternatural physical vigor was as it had been just weeks before.

Bo held tightly to Brett's shoulders and head, hugging him close to chest, watching in horror as the creature underneath the stranger writhed and snapped horrid fangs, bewildered by what was happening.

MJ had fallen into frenzy. This was as dangerous as he could possibly be, and now it was Fletcher had to struggle to keep him at bay.

"Ya can't keep doin' this! You're gonna die, ya idiot!"

Brett: "Jeg beklager," he cried, hearing his voice return to normal and hating himself for it. He should've died. Dying and burning were better than having this poison in his veins.

And yet he couldn't help but cling tighter to Bo. He couldn't help but burrow against his chest and weep with gratitude that he could finally smell him. "Jeg beklager så mye. Jeg beklager så mye."

Bo/MJ/Fletcher: "Brett, shh. Shh..." Fingers combed through his tousled hair, but soon pushed him back enough to grab the frying pan. He was caught in a moment and he needed to ride the wave of adrenaline. The sheriff had been tortured and that word was sacred and black.

"Get out of the way," he said to the stranger, raising the pan. It would be like squashing an insect. Little did he know of the man pinning the vampire down.

"Don't!" shouted Fletcher.

Brett: The tears came harder when Bo pulled away. Bo's arms were warm and safe and home and Brett needed them. He needed him. "No, don't leave me, come back! He'll hurt you, come back, please! He'll take you away from me!"

Bo/Fletcher: "Parker, calm down!" There was nothing Fletcher could do than hold MJ down and wait. Letting go just meant having to grab him again. He would hold out for as long as he possibly could in keeping his other forms to himself.

"Go t'him n'leave this alone, kid!"

Arms shook with rage. He raised the pan again but the sound of Brett's sobs forced him to lower his stance, drop the pan.

"Get it out of this house."

"I will."

Backwards he scrambled to the sound of Brett, pulled him back into his arms.

Brett: Here, Botan was here. Brett had him back, he was back in Bo's arms.

"God brought you back to me," he whispered, all but trying to crawl inside his boyfriend's skin as he filled his lungs with Bo's cologne and the Noble Fir and the scent of the home they made together. "Don't leave me. Please don't leave me. Jeg elsker deg."

Bo/MJ/Fletcher: Softly, Bo shushed the ghoul and held him fast, kept his distance and watched as the stranger wrestled with the vampire's strength. It would be some time until the frenzy would subside. Some time being nearly thirty minutes.

Brett: Those thirty minutes seemed endless to the man in Botan Nowicki's arms. Though he continued to weep, his sobs softened and quieted until they were more or less muffled against Bo's chest. He didn't lift his head or turn toward what was happening a few feet away; he simply clung to his boyfriend and waited for it to end.

He wouldn't answer if spoken to, wouldn't acknowledge anyone but Bo. He simply waited and prayed for them to be alone again behind a locked door.

MJ/Fletcher: The growls, the snaps, the wild curses in a language he knew MJ didn't know had come to an agonizingly slow halt. This was misery, but this was better than the alternative.

"Parker. Sheriff Parker." When ignored, he regarded the blond. "Come get my phone out of my back pocket. I need ya t'call Peter Graham."

Brett: The mention of Pete had Brett clinging even tighter to Bo as he lifted his head just enough to peek up at his face. Bo didn't have to let him go to do what Fletcher asked.

"My phone's in my pocket," he managed, his voice sounding parched and tired. "His number's in there."

Bo/Fletcher: Bo swallowed and nodded to both, taking Brett's phone and finding the number. "What am I supposed to say?"

"Tell him t'come here n'help me get this out."

Before hitting call, he had to look to the sheriff for confirmation.

Brett: Brett just nodded before burying his face against Bo again, soothing himself with the sound of his boyfriend's heartbeat.

Bo/MJ: The vampire had managed to calm by the time the phone was answered.

"Is this Peter Graham?" Bo greeted. "I'm in no mood to explain, but you need to come to the sheriff's house. Do you know where it is?"

Pete: It was a good thing they'd hit a lull, otherwise it could've easily been hours before Pete so much as looked at his phone, let alone got time to answer it.

Such as it was, Parker's name on the display had him picking up after only one ring. "Evening, sher--yes, this is him." Pete straightened, brow furrowing with concern as...was that Botan? Why was Botan calling him from Brett's phone and telling him to go to the sheriff's house?

"Yeah, I know where. I'll be there as quickly as I can." He hung up. "June, you're in charge!"

Bo/MJ/Fletcher: The calm which had washed over the vampire unnerved Bo more than his beastly snarl. One was understandable. The almost serene look in his green eyes however, made no sense to him. Why was he allowing the stranger to ground him like this? It felt strategic in nature.

Fletcher was not looking forward to seeing Peter like this.

Pete: Pete had no idea what he was going to find when he arrived at the sheriff's house. He had even less of an idea of why the sheriff's boyfriend had even called him. Shouldn't they be calling Peabody if there was an emergency of some kind? What could possibly be happening that he was qualified to handle but a cop wasn't?

He jogged up the steps and knocked on the door a couple times before letting himself in.

"Eve...ning."

Oh.

This was what Peabody wasn't qualified to handle.

"Hi, Fletcher. Hi...MJ."

Bo/MJ/Fletcher: "Hello again," said MJ.

Fletcher wasn't sure how to begin explaining the situation. Bo wasn't going to wait on him.

"Get that out of my house."

Pete: Pete did a double take. That wasn't even close to the greeting he'd expected from MJ after what happened nearly a year ago. He'd expected yelling and cursing and punching, not a polite hello.

Unless...he wasn't talking to MJ.

"....That's Victoria, isn't it?"

Bo/MJ: "What the hell are you doing talking? I said get it out!"

Fletcher turned to Peter and simply nodded. They needed to move this along before the frying pan was picked up again.

Pete: "Right, yes. Okay."

As he got closer, Pete was finally able to get a true grasp on the situation. There was a frying pan on the floor, Fletcher was pinning Victoria down, and Brett....oh, god. Brett.

It was the police station all over again.

"What do you need me to do?" he asked Fletcher. "Do I grab his arms or legs or...?"

MJ/Fletcher: "Just his left side, there." He knew Peter had the strength should MJ struggle, but more than that, he had a feeling his presence would calm. His intuition had been accurate, and the vampire got to his feet without resistance.

Pete: He nodded, moving to MJ's side and helping him up. He was prepared for a struggle and was again surprised when reality didn't meet his expectation.

He just hoped Fletcher had a plan of where to take MJ because he sure as hell didn't.

Fletcher: Fletcher really had no idea what to do next. As much as he preferred staying out of other people's affairs (as he had the last time Sheriff Parker was in danger) this was an ugly situation he couldn't play bystander to. Remembering what he'd been told, remembering those last images of the blond stranger before he'd been phoenix-ed, he felt obligated.

In honor of this man he didn't know, himself, each time he'd died.

So here they were. MJ was led out the back door. As soon as they were through the other side, Bo shut and locked the door behind them.

On the other side of the living room, Maximillian was asleep on the sheriff's slippers.

Brett/Pete: "Should we....where are we going?" Pete asked, which wasn't to say that what they were currently doing was a bad idea. Taking Victoria in the opposite direction of Brett and Bo's house was by far the best thing to do right now. Hopefully the two of them had the good sense to barricade themselves in.

And they were, and Brett was immensely grateful for it.

He simply sat on the floor and stared at the little dog while Bo locked the door, face still wet with tears that didn't seem to be stopping any time soon.

The moment Bo rejoined him, he was clinging again.

MJ/Fletcher: Maybe take him to the nearest shore and throw him in the river, Fletcher thought. Of course he wouldn't say that, not to Peter. He simply sighed.

"Maybe we could take him - I dunno. I hadn't thought that far ahead."

Pete: "The beach?" The beach was far away from Brett's house. And with the cold, there were no people on it for Victoria to eat, maim, or torture.

MJ/Fletcher: For a second, Fletcher believed Peter had the same fantasy in mind. "Sure," was all he'd say.

MJ heaved a long and impatient sigh.

Pete: To the beach then. He just wanted to ascertain one thing, for his own curiosity.

"You still driving, Victoria?"

MJ: "Do you know how often he's cried over you? Almost exposed his shame to his new lover."

Pete: Pete felt a muscle in his jaw clench but otherwise gave no reaction. Yep, that was definitely still Victoria, and he wasn't about to give her the satisfaction of rattling him. She'd done enough damage today.

Still....he couldn't help but wonder about this....new lover. If there even was a new lover. She could easily be fucking with him just to see what he would do. And even if she wasn't lying, it wasn't like he had any room to talk.

MJ/Fletcher: Once at the beach, Fletcher's grip began to loosen. Where to go from here, he wondered.

"Don't go back to the sheriff's."

"I don't need to." No, the damage had been done. It's what he deserved for stepping out of line.

Pete: "Don't go to the sheriff's station either."

Victoria: "Anywhere else?"

Pete: "Yeah. Into the part of your brain she's in."

Victoria: "You mean him? He doesn't have much left."

Pete: "I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to him."

MJ: MJ's body laughed. Could it really be his? Might as well call it Victor, conform to the male body.

Pete: "Now let me tell you something, Miz Harrak." He stepped closer.

"Un jour, d'une façon ou d'une autre, je vais vous arracher de lui. Et quand je le ferai, je déchirerai votre cœur avec mes dents."

Victoria: Oh, that smile widened. So nice to hear such a civil language in a savage world. Still, "Not quite there, but close, darling."

Pete: Pete was smiling, too. If it could be called a smile. It was almost as if he knew something no one else did.

"That's not the only thing that's close, Miz Harrak."

Victoria: "You're really not intimidating in the least."

Pete: "To someone like you I expect I'm not."

Victoria: Hmm. MJ's body, but clearly not his mannerisms. Those hands on his hips might as well have been alien. "Now what?"

Pete: "Now you go."

Victoria: "Sure. Off I go. Want a kiss for the man you broke?"

Pete: Pete's expression went stony again. "I don't think you understand. Go. Back into your corner."

Victoria: "It doesn't work that way, darling."

Pete: "Make it work that way, MJ."

MJ: The eyes closed, a deep breath taken. It seemed saying his name was the trigger.

Pete: He heaved an internal sigh of relief. Thank god.

"MJ?"

MJ: "Mm?" He had to keep his eyes closed or he would lose focus.

Pete: "You driving again?"

MJ: "Tryin' to."

Pete: He nodded. "Good."

MJ: "What d'ya want?"

Pete: "Just wanted to make sure. I'll go."

MJ: "That's it?"

Pete: "Did you want to get another hit in?"

MJ: "What?"

Pete: "On me. Did you want to deck me or yell or..."

MJ: "...Don't want anything from ya."

Pete: "...Right. So...I'll....go."

MJ/Fletcher: "Ya know you're makin' a mistake, MJ."

"Fuck off, Fletch."

Pete: He had no intention of jumping into the second round of World War 3.

"I'm gonna go check on Brett," he said to no one in particular, making to head up the beach.

Fletcher: "That's it?" Fletcher straightened. "That's all the fight y'all got in ya?"

Pete: "Tonight yes. Something tells me there's been too much fight tonight."

Fletcher: "Not where it counts."

Pete: "Having our fight now is going to poke at her again and I sure as hell ain't fighting with her."

Fletcher: "She's always gonna be there," Fletcher sighed. This much was the point.

He turned to the vampire. "Stay away from Parker. I know ya once loved him," he whispered, "but ya don't mean shit anymore. Not t'him, not while ya got her runnin' shotgun."

Pete: "She's especially there tonight, and if it's all the same to you, MJ, I'd rather not fuel her when she's already raring to go."

Fletcher: "We're just gonna trust that he won't go back..." Fletcher wasn't sure.

Pete: Pete sighed. He wasn't sure either, but he wanted to be.

"I don't know what the hell happened in that house tonight and something tells me I really don't want to but whatever it was, it was serious enough for you to call me. And if it was serious enough for you to call me, then MJ has a hell of a lot of motivation to stay away from Brett and his boyfriend."

MJ: "Yeah, I get it," MJ growled.

Pete: "I sincerely hope you do," Pete said softly. "Because I know you know better than anyone that Parker really doesn't deserve whatever Victoria wants to do to him."

MJ: "I know better than anyone? Think I slept with him?"

Pete: "Jesus, no! I meant you know better than anyone because you didn't deserve her."

MJ: "How would ya know? D'ya really know me?" His eyes were forced open, heterochromatic and focused.

Pete: They would find Pete's staring back at them with no small amount of irritation.

"Yes, MJ, I do. Whether you like it or not, I do really know you and I know for a fact that you don't fucking deserve Victoria Harrak so quit acting like you do!"

MJ: "I thought I knew ya, too! We all make mistakes!"

Pete: "Oh, don't give me that, it's not a mistake! You do know me! And I do know you!"

MJ: "I don't know a man that would lie t'my face and betray me."

Pete: "Well I didn't think I knew a man without the decency or the balls to say goodbye to me face to face when he left town or a man that would bash my face into a tree when I tried to explain myself but apparently I do!"

MJ: "Ya still think that was me then ya can go fuck yourself. Better yet, just have Fletch again."

Pete: "If it really wasn't you then that's fucking worse! You just let her! Have you really forgotten what it is to be you? Have you really let that bitch take so much from you that you're letting her go around hurting the people in your life? Because if you have then you're right. I don't know you."

MJ/Fletcher: "Because it's that easy, like flippin' a switch. Ya ran away just like I did n'suddenly you're a goddamn expert in all things Kindred n'ya get t'talk down on me, like it's all my fuckin' fault."

Fletcher remained silent, standing off to the side should he have to grab his once friend. At least they were talking...yelling.

Pete: "Like you did? Bullshit!"

Pete stormed back down the beach. "I might have left Edenton, I might've needed to leave Edenton, but I didn't do it like you did! I fucking said goodbye! You didn't leave me a number to reach you at or an address with a freezer to leave you a letter in but I found a fucking way to say goodbye to you!"

MJ: "Because that's the most intelligent thing t'do with Victoria in my head! Because that's workin' out so well right now!"

Pete: "She's always known where I am! She was in this town before I was even born!"

MJ: "I couldn't risk ya convincin' me t'stay!"

Pete: "Could I have?! Could anything I said have convinced you?! And even if I did, what would've been so bad about staying? Of at least giving me a lifeline to you?"

MJ: "How can ya say such fruity bullshit when she bashed your fuckin' skull in? You're not that stupid!"

Pete: "That's exactly my point, MJ! You left. You cut me off from you completely. And she still managed to hurt me!"

MJ: "And I was supposed t'know that?! Was is s bad t'just wait for me that ya had t'stick your dick in that?!"

Pete: "Wait for what, MJ? I have been waiting for you since the moment we met, before Victoria, before Fletcher, before any of it. I've always been just...waiting for you."

MJ: "Then I guess I deserved it. You're never fuckin' wrong. Get the fuck away from me."

Pete: "No, you didn't deserve it. I fucked up. I fucked up and I hurt you. That's not your fault, that's not Fletcher's fault, it's mine."

MJ/Fletcher: "Ya can't go doin' that. I had as much say as ya did, Peter. We both fucked up."

MJ glared between the two of them.

Pete: "Maybe, but I was the one in a relationship," Pete said softly. "The bulk of the blame falls on me."

Fletcher: "...Are y'all good for me t'leave alone?" Fletcher asked.

Pete: Pete nodded. "We'll be fine."

Fletcher: "I won't be far." No, he'd have his eyes on this regardless. Still...he forced himself away.

Pete: Another nod was given in silent thanks.

MJ: "Thought ya were leavin'," muttered MJ.

Pete: "Yeah, well, we're not done here."

MJ: "What else?"

Pete: "What else? What else?"

MJ: "Yeah, Peter, what else?"

Pete: "How about you just letting Victoria 'flip the switch' whenever the hell she wants?!"

MJ: "Ya really got some fuckin' balls talkin' t'me about shit ya know nothin' about."

Pete: "Victoria? No, I know nothing about Victoria and I don't care to know because she's a terrible fucking person but as we've established, I know you. For better or for worse."

MJ: "Ya don't know me n'y don't know what it's like t'have someone else literally inside ya."

Pete: "I do know you, you stubborn goddamn vampire, and I might not know what it's like having a homicidal bitch inside me but that doesn't mean I'm completely clueless about having something inside you that you barely understand and have no choice but to deal with!"

MJ: MJ kept his eyes towards the open water. "And now it's all better that ya got some idea."

Pete: "Okay, you know what? I'm trying to be sincere with you and actually talk to you and you've got nothing but sarcasm so I'm going back to my goddamn bar."

MJ: "Ya think I let her beat ya n'try t'rape ya! There is absolutely nothin' for us t'talk about!"

Pete: Every thought in Pete's head came to a grinding, abrupt halt. All the fight and irritation simply drained out of his being, leaving his eyes wide and his face pale.

For a few moments, he could do nothing but stare.

MJ: There was much to be read in MJ's eyes. Absolute pain and misery were the most obvious. Disappointment rose on the subtle waves of love which burned his eyes a pale pink. There was...nothing to be done to salvage this relationship, not while Peter felt the way he did.

Pete: Pete could barely hear his own voice over his thundering heart when he said, "....She...she tried to...to...?"

MJ: "...Ya know what she did."

Pete: The confusion and horror in his eyes said he didn't.

MJ: "Ya were just talkin' about it n'belittlein' me."

Pete: "I passed out, I...I don't remember what happened after my face hit the tree..." He thought the tree was as far as it went.

MJ: "S'why I've been gone...again. Some giant came 'round n'I got control again. Callum...he...told me t'fuck off."

Pete: He gave an absent nod. "Right. The bouncer." Callum had mentioned Tane the bouncer; he had not, however, mentioned telling MJ to fuck off or the attempted...the thing Victoria had attempted.

"You haven't come back because of Callum?"

MJ: "...Yeah. I didn't want... He was right. I didn't want her t'have another chance."

Pete: "She won't have one. I'm...she won't have one." He was stronger now.

"You don't um...Callum was just pissed, he's Scottish, you know? They're...passionate. You're not blackballed from town or anything."

MJ: "I'm not anymore, no..." He looked back to the water again. "He was right. Ya saw what she...what I...what we did t'Brett."

Pete: "I don't mean to sound like a broken record but..." He sighed. "Don't take the blame for the shit she does. You're not her. I don't know what happened in that house that led us here, but I know you wouldn't hurt Brett."

MJ: "Brett doesn't know, he doesn't understand what just happened. I... I love him, n'I hurt him."

Pete: "Why?" Pete asked quietly.

MJ: "Why what?"

Pete: "Why did she hurt him?"

MJ: "He wasn't listenin'. He's a ghoul. We're not... askin' if he wants t'be. He has t'be or he's dead. I didn't want t'lose him, n'then she took that...n'then I remember that human hittin' me with somethin'."

Pete: "...He told you he didn't want to be a ghoul anymore?"

MJ: "He can't say shit like that. He's gonna fuckin' die."

Pete: "Do you blame him?"

MJ: "We didn't hurt him. We didn't beat him or pull his teeth out. We didn't make him like us. He just had t'drink. I don't wanna hear 'bout some soft "his feelings" bullshit. This is the real world."

Pete: "Yeah, it is. And in the real world people want to be free. They want their lives to be their own and no one else's. A gilded cage is still a cage."

MJ: "He's either bonded n'loves us or he's not...n'he's gonna get himself killed."

Pete: Pete was quiet for a long time, staring out at the sea as MJ had done. Finally, "Brett and I turned thirty-four this year. Thirty-four. And this--his life now--is the happiest I've seen him since we were six years old."

MJ: "N'he used t'look at me like I mattered. When he opened the door...he...hated me."

Pete: "There's only one person Brett hates in the whole world and I promise it isn't you."

MJ: "Now it is."

Pete: "Only if you don't tell him it wasn't you."

MJ: "'Cause that worked so well with ya, with everyone."

Pete: "I don't hate you, MJ." Soft as a whisper.

MJ: "'Ya just let her', ya said."

Pete: "Anger doesn't always equal hatred."

MJ: "Ya lied t'me n'ya hurt me."

Pete: "I know."

MJ: "I can't...forgive that. Just like I don't expect Brett t'forgive me."

Pete: Pete nodded. "I understand."

MJ: He didn't know what to say now.

Pete: He really didn't either, but there was something he'd been meaning to say since...well, since he was still in France sitting on a beach with his teacher.

"I know I can't take it back, but I want you to know that I'm going to try to make it right. To make it up to you."

MJ: "...What?" The vampire frowned. "After what ya just said t'me? This ain't some movie. I know before when I called - I know this is over."

Pete: "Movies leave holes and questions. Real life is messy and hard and it hurts like fucking a bitch but it's better. When you called....I wasn't in a good way. I felt like a...nerve. An exposed nerve. Not just because of what happened with us, it was--I was just starting to get myself right again and hearing your voice hurt. I never thought I'd ever hear it again. And I shied away because I was already hurt and I wanted to be better."

MJ: "I wasn't good enough. I had no right t'call ya n'remind ya that I ain't. Remind ya of what I "let" happen. You're...the first person I've ever been in love with, n'what I am...those things don't mix. I won't do it again."

Pete: Pete shook his head. "Don't say that. I'm the one who wasn't wasn't good enough for you. I was weak and I hurt you."

As long as they were here, they might as well sit. The sand was as good a place as any. "Being a vampire doesn't mean you can't love or be happy with someone. People far worse than either of us, than Gertrude and Victoria even, find love and happiness every day. Maybe it doesn't look like Hollywood love, but it's love."

MJ: MJ stood over Pete with caution. There was still trust for him to just sit so comfortably like that. There had to be something, and it felt wrong.

"Ya can't take back what ya just said, just like I can't take back what I did. Ya need t'be with your own kind."

Pete: "We can't, but maybe it's not about taking things back. Maybe it's about finding a way to move forward."

He shook his head again. "Humans have been falling in love and making it stick with non-humans since the beginning of time. Whether or not you make it with someone has nothing to do with species, you know that."

MJ: "D'ya still believe I just let her hurt ya? That I would let anyone do somethin' like that t'ya?"

No, no, he frowned. "Just because they can don't mean they should. Look what it's done t'ya. I couldn't give ya what ya want n'ya witnessed murder n'other terrible shit. Was that healthy? Don't answer that; ya know the answer. It's an entirely different way of thinkin' n'I was stupid t'try. I love ya but that don't mean we're meant t'be."

Pete: Pete was quiet for a few moments. "I remember wondering if it was her or you when I was...when it was happening. I thought the only reason she could hurt me was because you wanted to hurt me, and that you wanted to hurt me because you hated me. I didn't blame you for hating me, but...yeah. It still kills me that she's in there with you, that she has power when she should be slow roasting in hell while Satan shoves flaming swords into her, but...no. I don't believe you just let her hurt me."

He sighed. "Who the hell decides what's meant to be? Look at Callum. He's not with the person he's 'meant' to be with and he's happy and in love. They're solid, they've built a life together. All I ever wanted was to just...have you. Have all of you."

MJ: "Ya just said "let" t'me just minutes ago. Why are ya backtrackin' what ya say? We're not them, n'Callum ain't no angel. He knows what happened at the police station. He's still with him. Guildias gave me this as pretty much the only option n'Callum knows. Where's the yellin'? The reprimand?" He looked around to find nothing. "Ain't nowhere. Ya wanna be like that? Ya lied t'me n'said it was on me because we never actually fucked. Wanna backtrack that, too?"

Pete: "I said 'let' because I've spent the past few months thinking she was only able to hurt me because you wanted to hurt me, which is a reasonable assumption considering we were fighting in the middle of the damn woods when it happened."

He got to his feet again. "I am not backtracking and that is not what I said to you. I said that I lied because I was sad and lonely and heartbroken over you leaving me and over that goddamn feeling of never really having you even when I did have you. You're the one that reduced it to just sex."

MJ: "Ya talked 'bout sex! Ya mentioned it! Ya did that!"

Pete: "I talked about sex, I didn't say it was the only reason!"

MJ: "We can't be together."

Pete: "MJ....don't...."

MJ: "We already know that."

Pete: "We don't know that. I'm not done trying."

MJ: "Maybe I am. Maybe I'm done killin' myself with guilt."

Pete: "I don't want you to kill yourself with guilt. Not because of me, not because of Victoria."

MJ: "Sayin' that don't change it."

Pete: "Tell me what will. Tell me how I can make things right between us."

MJ: "Got a time machine or a - a time spell?"

Pete: "If a time spell is what it takes, I'll find it. I've got the Library of Alexandria of magic just a phone call away."

MJ: "And then ya go back in time and change it, replace yourself, and pretend ya didn't lie n'cheat on me."

Pete: Pete took a deep breath. "I'd go back and I'd make a different choice. I'd find a way to be stronger for you. Fuck, I'd go back even further and stop them from ever even thinking of putting that awful woman inside you."

MJ: "...It woulda been one thing if the moment I came back ya told me ya wanted him, that we were over. It wasn't like that, Pete." He didn't want to think or speak of Victoria.

Pete: "I know," he said softly, closing his eyes. "I know, MJ. And I wish...you have no idea how badly I wish I could change it. How badly I wish I'd never hurt you or lied to you."

MJ: "If I'd never come back, ya'd be with him, wouldn't ya?"

Pete: "I honestly don't know." Soft as it was, his voice reflected the sincerity in his eyes as they opened again.

MJ: "N'what if... What if I said that t'ya? What would ya do in my situation? Gonna tell me ya'd listen n'open up n'just accept your words?"

Pete: Pete studied the horizon for a moment, thinking of all the times he tried to contact MJ, all the nights he'd laid in bed staring at his window in hope.

"I wouldn't give up," he whispered. "I'd...I'd give us a chance."

MJ: "And you would believe me when I say I won't cheat again? You'd believe I wouldn't look at that man n'want t'fuck him again? M'just supposed t'take ya at your word?"

Pete: "No, you're not supposed to just take me at my word and I'm not expecting you to. I never have. All I'm asking is for you to give me a chance to earn your trust back."

MJ: "I can't...deal with this right now, Pete."

Pete: Pete nodded. "I understand." And he did. He'd give MJ all the time and space he needed but he still wasn't planning on giving up.

MJ: "So, what now?"

Pete: He sighed. "I don't know."

MJ: "Ya think Victoria's gonna come back n'I'm goin' back over there?"

Pete: "I'm really hoping that doesn't happen."

MJ: "So, what now?" he repeated.

Pete: "I'm gonna....go." Maybe he'd camp out in front of Brett's house. Just in case.

MJ/Fletcher: Fletcher would be waiting up the hill near a half naked tree, waiting for any sign of distress. Given Peter's new identity, he wasn't strained by concern.

"Yeah...So..." He didn't know what to say. See you later? Talk to you soon? Bye? He just turned around, watched the ocean.

Pete: Pete waited for some sort of farewell, even if it was half-hearted. When none came, he simply nodded and said, "So....I'll see you later, MJ."

After waiting one more beat, he turned and walked back up the beach. He'd finish up at the bar and check on Brett and Botan on his way home. And again in the morning.

Fletcher: Fletcher was waiting for him at the top, standing now with slumped shoulders.

"Hey, so...how's that workin' out?"

Pete: Despite Fletcher's earlier assurance, for some reason Pete hadn't expected him to stay this long. He supposed he thought Fletcher would want to stay as far as possible from the drama that seemed to follow in his wake. Nobody would blame him.

"Oh, you know. About as well as a screen door on a submarine."

Fletcher: "That's...that's how vampires are, man." Of course he'd stay. Love wasn't on the table for them, not romantically, but anyone would be foolish to believe Fletcher didn't care for the man in front of him.

Pete: "I think the vampire bit only contributed about half of the...stuff. The rest is very human."

Fletcher: "If ya say so, Peter. So, you're just gonna leave em there?"

Pete: He nodded. "Don't really have a choice. I can't tail him for the rest of the night. I can check on the Parker household, though, and I will."

Fletcher: "I was gonna, but the human's pretty adamant about us fuckin' off."

Pete: "I don't blame him," he sighed. "A person can only be scarred for life so many times."

Fletcher: "So ya know 'bout what happened t'him?"

Pete: "No specifics, but nothing that has anything to do with Victoria Harrak is going to leave someone happy and unaffected."

Fletcher: "Are we talkin' 'bout the human or the sheriff?"

Pete: "Brett. Whatever happened, happened to him."

Fletcher: "Ah. Was talkin' 'bout the kid after that shit happened at the bar."

Pete: "What kid?"

Fletcher: "Botan, the one that hit MJ with a frying pan."

Pete: "Right, right. He hit MJ with a frying pan? Like in Tangled?"

Fletcher: "What's that?"

Pete: "Disney movie. Rapunzel. She hits the guy with a frying pan when he breaks into her tower." He shook his head. "Sorry, spent a lot of time around kids."

Fletcher: "...Ya did?" He wanted to hear about it, but this wasn't the time nor the place. He could feel MJ's eyes on him.

"We should start walkin'."

Pete: "Yeah, uh, their mom thought watching the movies with them in French would help me learn. French, I mean."

Pete nodded. "Right, yes." He stuck his hands in his pockets and fell into step beside Fletcher.

Fletcher: "Ah, right. They did that shit in high school, too."

Say something else, he thought. Ask more questions, talk about sheriff Parker.

"Ya have fun?" was all he could think of.

Pete: Pete smiled to himself as he thought back on all his months in Brittany, on all the good and the bad and everything in between. "Yeah," he said, nodding. "I did."

Fletcher: "...Well...good." If Peter hadn't done it, he would have, and then he would never have met Luke in time. The correct response was to be grateful.

"I uh...so how much did ya learn 'bout yourself while gone?"

Pete: If you only knew, he thought. He learned more about himself with every lunar cycle.

"More than I bargained for."

Fletcher: "Coulda just stayed gone. Luke would taken over the place "

Pete: "Luke is why I came back. He needed me."

Fletcher: "Oh, right...that."

Pete: He nodded. "Yeah. He's...it's been rough on him."

Fletcher: "They weren't really a thing-" but then he looked at Peter and away, cleared his throat. Never mind that.

Pete: He'd just...let that one go. No harm done.

"They were enough of one for it to really hurt. Parker thinks Luke was the last one to see him alive."

Fletcher: "Mm...yeah." That’s as far as he'd go with that. "How long ya back for?"

Pete: "For good."

Fletcher: "New friends are just pen pals now?"

Pete: "I'll go back for visits. Couple of them are thinking about visiting me here. We talk during the week."

Fletcher: "Well, that's...good." He really wasn't as well versed in small talk with Peter as he used to be. That window had been pathetically small and briefly open before snapping shut.

"So, I...uh - Fuck, I dunno what t'say. Feels like too much or too little."

Pete: Pete gave a small chuckle. "You're fine. Hell, given what happened tonight I'd say we're doing a fantastic job of keeping the conversation light and flowing."

Fletcher: "Just...wanna say more is all," he muttered, eyes to the ground.

Pete: He nodded. "Well...there's no pressure. I went to New York and Paris before settling in Brittany. Ended up seeing pretty much all of France."

Fletcher: "Oh. Why did ya pick France? Your family French or somethin'?"

Pete: "Not as far as I know. It was uh...Anthony Bourdain."

Fletcher: It took him a moment. "Oh right. That guy. Figured ya woulda done somethin' like... Scotland or Bangkok."

Pete: Pete chuckled. "Luke thought I'd gone to Nepal or the Amazon. France was more appealing. And has better wine.

"I actually went up to Scotland for a couple days in the summer. Saw Callum's dad."

Fletcher: "So the majority of places were not romantic. Thought ya were toughin' it out."

He bit into his lip, nearly drew blood.

"This gonna be awkward for ya, talkin' t'me again?" He felt a stirring in his stomach which answered for himself.

Pete: "I toughed it out in other ways. Mostly I just wanted to be in a place with lots of people and lots of things to do. No better place for that than France." You'd have to be dead for a million years to be bored in France.

Pete shook his head. "No, not at all. For you?"

Fletcher: "Feel a little...sick t'my stomach. Thought ya weren't comin' back. Kinda...got used t'not seein' ya at the pub anymore. Like one of those...outta sight outta mind instances. I still regret not keepin' a better eye on ya. Maybe I coulda prevented what had happened." Maybe if he'd watched MJ better they wouldn't have been caught in the first place.

Pete: "I got used to not being there," he said quietly. "But I was always going to come back. It was just a question of when. And when Stella called to tell me about Luke, it wasn't a question at all. My time in Brittany had come to an end."

He shook his head. "Nothing could've prevented what happened, Fletcher. It wasn't your fault."

Fletcher: "But I coulda. I coulda done it. I can do so much n'I didn't do enough. I think bout that...that m'not smart enough; that I ain't usin' my curse as a gift enough."

Peter didn't want to hear this. He must sound like a whiny child.

"Anyway...m'gonna check on the sheriff if ya wanna just go back t'work."

Pete: "Hey, no." Pete came to a stop, made Fletcher come to one, too. "Unless you're a psychic as well as a Fera, what Victoria and her diseased mind do can't be predicted, anticipated, or controlled. Nothing short of putting a forcefield around me could've stopped her."

He considered for a moment. He'd decided to stop in on Parker after work anyway. Wouldn't do any harm to go back to the bar and let Fletcher take the first checkup. "All right. Thanks."

Fletcher: Much by accident he flinched from the touch, afraid he would enjoy it in some way and betray Luke Husher.

"Ya say that, but I was downstairs with June feelin' sorry for myself."

Pete: Pete slipped his hand back into his pocket. Message received and not taken personally.

"Being downstairs with June doesn't change the fact that you can't create forcefields. Victoria wanted to hurt me and she found a way. She was always going to find a way."

Fletcher: It was entirely personal. Their bond was delayed but deeply, deeply intimate.

"I hate hearin' ya say that."

Pete: "I hate saying it but it's true. That woman ran this town for years, she threw Callum off a balcony. I'm just another drop in the bucket."

Fletcher: "I shoulda not been a coward."

Pete: "Don't beat yourself up, Fletcher. I'm alive, I'm healthy. If anyone's messed up it's Brett."

Fletcher: "That ain't ever been my problem. M'not the hero in this town." But so much he tried without labeling it.

Pete: "I'll bet Brett will feel differently."

Fletcher: "Right now, yeah..." He sighed.

Pete: "Always. You should give yourself more credit."

Fletcher: "I keep hearin' that."

Pete: "That should tell you something."

Fletcher: "You're all delusional."

Pete: "Or we're all right on the money."

Fletcher: "No, you're not, but it's...nice I guess."

Pete: "That's the spirit."

Fletcher: "Do uh...D'ya wanna still be with him?"

Pete: Pete hesitated for a moment before nodding. His hesitation wasn't because he doubted his mind or what he wanted, it was....well, due to present company and his history with said present company.

Fletcher: He was going to try his best not to overthink that. It was just as he'd suspected; nothing new to that. He had been nothing more than a substitute.

"Right..."

Pete: "....Yeah. So....." It was time to exit this minefield but where to take the conversation from here?

"I should...head back to the bar."

Fletcher: "Yeah. I'll see you, I guess." So much guessing. They had left on such a beautiful note. Why did it have to be like this now?

He forced himself to turn, keep heading to the sheriff.

Pete: "Yes, you will." It was inevitable. Pete was back home and he was going to stay that way. That didn't mean things had to be tense and awkward though.

"Hey, Fletcher?"

Fletcher: Just keep walking. Just pretend like you didn't hear him.

He stopped and turned.

Pete: "You really were a hero today, even if you don't believe it. You saved Brett. There was nothing stupid or cowardly about that."

Fletcher: There was action and then there was reason. He didn't want a missing sheriff to make the news. It had been about protecting himself, but it had also been about the human with the frying pan, about keeping the vampire in check, about keeping his territory running smoothly. He too believed Brett Parker should have just drank the blood and remained complacent.

"Okay..."

Pete: "Okay," Pete repeated, nodding. "Just...remember that, all right? Always remember that."

Fletcher: "Why are ya sayin' that?"

Pete: "Because you need to hear it."

Fletcher: "I haven't heard from ya in months. Is it really necessary at this point? I'm fine." No need to snap in these last moments. He just had to turn back around and walk away. So he did.

Pete: "That goes both ways, Fletcher."

Pete sighed and watched Fletcher walk away. "That goes both ways."

Fletcher: Wait, what?

No.

"I was supposed t'contact ya? Ya were gonna answer, after ya just quit this place because things got difficult?"

Pete: "I asked you if I could write you. You didn't think that was a good idea."

Fletcher: "Everyone had wild ideas of where ya were because ya didn't think it was important t'tell us. Don't go turnin' this shit around. Ya left. I said I'd do it n'instead ya ran off like some teenager fresh outta graduation."

Pete: "I emailed my family once a week. I had my phone with me in case of emergencies, which is how Stella was able to contact me so quickly when Luke's boyfriend went missing. I may not have told anyone where I was but I didn't leave them with nothing, and that includes my reasons for leaving. Reasons I shared with you.

"Are you mad that I left or that I came back?"

Fletcher: "How fucking selfish are ya that ya wouldn't tell your own family what country ya were in? What if somethin' happened t'ya? How would they even begin t'help ya?" How could I help you?

"Both." Stop. Just stop.

"I gotta go."

Pete: Pete just shook his head. "Well, Fletcher, I had no idea that my coming home was causing so much trouble and unpleasantness for you. I'll make sure to go to my bar and my house and my relatives' houses and nowhere else in case you see me. I wouldn't want to contribute to raising your blood pressure."

Fletcher: Seems like their animosity was set back to rights. At least it was a familiar clutch.

"Right," he said, kept walking.

Pete: "And just so we're clear, my family's names, numbers, and addresses are written in four separate places in the place I was staying in Brittany. If something happened to me they would've been contacted and flown over. I'm not the idiot you seem to think I am so whatever you're mad at, stop taking it out on me. I haven't done anything but try to have a conversation with you and get you have a little faith in yourself."

Fletcher: "Just fuck you, Peter."

Pete: "Why are you suddenly so angry with me? Because I called you a hero? Or is it really because I came back?"

Fletcher: "Why are ya followin' me?"

Pete: "Because you did a complete 180 out of nowhere and I want to know why. A little while ago we were talking just fine."

Fletcher: "Were we really? That's what ya thought it was?"

Pete: "Are you saying it wasn't? It was a little stiff, sure, but it's been a weird night. We were talking about me learning French and Luke's boyfriend going missing."

Fletcher: "Stop followin' me. Fuck off back t'the vampire n'just leave me alone. I can't do this. I can't pretend we - just fuck off."

Pete: Pete took a deep breath. That was why Fletcher's mood had changed.

"Okay, Fletcher," he said softly. "Okay. I'll go. I'm sorry."

Bo: It had taken longer than Bo had anticipated to coax Brett to get up from the floor and onto the couch. He made a nest of their throw blanket, made himself comfortable against the arm of the chair, positioning himself like a pillow for the sheriff to rest against.

Brett: Truth be told, Brett was afraid to get up from the floor. He was afraid that the second he got up, Botan and everything inside would disappear and be out of his reach again.

He was only willing to risk it because Bo was there holding his hand.

When everything remained normal, he let himself relax and settle into the nest Bo had made and against Bo himself.

He felt....drained. He just wanted to burrow into his boyfriend's chest and disappear.

Bo: "I need to clean your face," he whispered into Brett's skin. "Your mouth...there's some...stain."

Brett: Oh, god. It was still on him.

He nodded, wiping fruitlessly at the flood of tears still trickling down his face.

"Shower," he whispered.

Bo: "I can give you a bath if you want."

Brett: Brett nodded again.

Bo: "Will you stay here will I draw a bath?"

Brett: "Yeah," he said softly, nodding yet again.

Bo: "The doors are locked. It's okay." Just had to remind him before wriggling up and away.

Brett: "Okay." Locked. Locked and secure and safe.

He snuggled into the space where Bo had been, letting his residual warmth comfort him until Bo came and got him for the bath.

Bo: The tub was filled half way, sprinkled with lavender and eucalyptus bath salts from under the sink. He stared into the water for some time, swirled his fingers in it. This had been such a beautiful day. As though he couldn't despise vampires more.

He carried himself into the living room. "Come on." He offered his hand.

Brett: Brett was thinking the same thing as he stared at the little dog that was still sleeping on the other side of the room. It was bordering on ridiculous, he knew it was, but there was a part of him that was terrified of that dog. That thought it would hurt him.

He was more than relieved when Botan returned, taking his hand and following as meekly as a lamb and undressing in the same fashion.

Bo: The dog remained asleep, curled up on its side, tuft hairy ear twitching by some invisible dream bug.

Despite having seen the sheriff naked before, Bo averted his eyes, taking a seat on the edge of the tub.

"Want me to warm a towel for you, too?"

Brett: The soothing scent of the bath salts had hit him as soon as he stepped into the bathroom and was going a long way toward helping him relax. Bo being in his line of sight helped too.

He carefully lowered himself into the water and splashed some onto his face to clean it before resting his face against Bo's thigh. "In a bit," he whispered, closing his eyes.

Bo: He combed his fingers in Brett's dark hair. "I don't like seeing you like this. You're like a baby bird. I don't feel violent most days, but...today I want to see someone die for this."

Brett: "I feel as strong as a baby bird. One that hasn't learned to fly yet." And wanted to stay in its nest. This house was their nest. Their haven. And today it had been violated.

Brett sniffled. "Do you think it's possible to kill a demon?" he wondered.

Bo: Slowly, shampoo was added to his fingers, lathered in Brett's hair.

"I think it's possible." He would have to look into it. He had a reason to now. "Maybe we could just burn him to ash."

Brett: Brett closed his eyes against the threat of yet more tears.

"There's a demon in there. A demon like the ones they taught us about in Sunday school. I could feel it."

Bo: "It's all demon. They're all demons. I'll find a way to make them all go away, Brett."

Brett: He just buried his face into Bo's leg. He was so very worried that the demons were always going to be there.

"I love you."

Bo: "I love you, Brett Parker."

Brett: "I'm afraid."

Bo: "I'm...angry."

Brett: He nodded. "I know."

Bo: "I'm not angry with you." Not entirely.

Brett: He looked up as if to say 'you're not?'

Bo: "I want you to fight them, but I also want you to live to fight another day. If we're going to sever your ties with them, we have to find the most opportune time in which to strike."

Brett: Brett took a deep breath, then another. He could feel his relaxation slipping away; he needed to grab onto it again.

"I wish I knew what to fight them with. I wish I had it. Why does being human have to mean we're so vulnerable?" He sniffled. "It's like we're being punished."

Bo: "I think we have more power than we're aware of. I believe we have knowledge just within reach, we just need to look. I need you to sit back now...rinse your hair."

Brett: It didn't feel that way. It felt more like they were fish in a barrel, swimming in circles until they were picked off.

Brett wiped his eyes and nodded, leaning back into the water until all the soap was out of his hair.

Bo: This wasn't going to be the end of this. That other vampire, the one with long hair...that was going to be the problem. He didn't care if he'd aided in his escape. He wanted him dead.

"I'm going to get your towel and new clothes. We're going to put up lights...I'm going to throw out that rat-looking animal in the living room."

Brett: Lights. They'd been planning to put up the Christmas lights because this was going to be their beautiful, romantic Christmas decorating day and it had been shot to hell.

"Okay," he said softly. "Don't um....don't throw out the dog. We should take it to Emmanuel Gaia in the morning. Judy wants a puppy."

Bo/Fletcher: "If you say so. I don't see why he'd think you'd want that thing." Above all of events today, offering a dog seemed most out of place.

A gray sweater was taken from the closet when the doorbell rang. It and a new pair of jeans were tossed onto the bed.

Fletcher wasn't surprised to see a scowl on the human's face when the door swung open. He also wasn't at all deterred by the frying pan back in his hand.

"What do you want?"

Brett: Brett could see why, but after what happened he just couldn't accept Maximillian. He was...he just couldn't.

But he also knew it wasn't the dog's fault, so it was only right that Max go to someone nice who could love and care for him properly.

While Bo was gathering his clothes, Brett grabbed the soap and his washcloth and started scrubbing himself from top to bottom. He had to get it off. He had to get it all off.

He barely registered the doorbell and the sound of Fletcher's voice.

Bo/Fletcher: "I've just come to check on Brett, make sure he's alright."

"How did you know he needed help?"

"I...I heard him..."

"...I want you to stay away from him and this house. Just stay the hell away, and you keep that thing away from here as well."

Brett: Brett had started to cry again as he tried his best to cleanse himself. It didn't matter that he was perfectly clean already or that his efforts were making his skin turn red; he didn't feel clean. He probably never would again.

He needed...he needed his toothbrush.

Bo: With the door shut in Fletcher's face, Bo returned to the bathroom, paused in the doorway.

"Stop that."

Brett: Brett stopped in the middle of scrubbing his face and looked miserably at Bo.

How could he stop? He wasn't clean.

Bo: He returned to his place by Brett's side. He used a wrung rag to wipe away the soap. Gentle, Brett. Like this.

Brett: Brett closed his eyes at Bo's ministrations, whole body trembling. Gentle.

Bo: Once clean, he was rewarded with a simple kiss. His towel was then offered.

"Let's get you warm."

Brett: The kiss made the trembling stop. He was okay. He was with his Botan.

"Okay," he said, wrapping the towel around himself and snuggling into it as he stepped out of the tub.

Bo: The tub was set to drain, and the sheriff directed to the master bedroom.

"I want to ask you who that man was. The other one. The one that sat on his chest."

Brett: "His name is Fletcher Goodman. He owns the pawn shop across the street from Pete's bar. Used to be his dad's."

Bo: "What is he, another vampire?"

Brett: Brett shook his head. "Not a vampire. I've seen him in daylight since I was a kid."

Bo: So whatever he was, was something which aged.

"He just appeared. He knew. He has to be something."

Brett: "How could he have known? I was screaming and no one heard me."

Bo: "He came back to check on you. Until we know more, I don't want him here."

Brett: Brett's brow furrowed. Fletcher had come to check on him?

"I don't think he meant any harm. I've known him nearly all my life." But he wasn't going to fight Bo on banishing him. Brett wasn't all that keen on visitors if he was perfectly honest.

Bo: "How many more people in this town are mutant beings..." How many more people did he have to beat with a frying pan, he thought.

Brett: He shrugged. "I have no idea. It can't be that many."

Bo: "You don't have any idea?"

Brett: Brett shook his head. "This is all fairly new to me. It wasn't that long ago when I thought supernatural things were just...horror stories."

Bo: In the bedroom, Bo took a seat on the edge of the bed, much as he had in the bathroom. Though he urged Brett to calm, there was still considerable pain in his shoulders from tension. He refused to let his guard down.

Brett: Brett made slow but steady work out of drying himself off, putting on lotion to soothe his skin, and putting on the clothes Bo had laid out for him.

"I love this sweater," he said, leaning against his boyfriend as he joined him on the bed.

Bo: "I know." Which was why it had been laid out. He knew trauma well enough to know every little detail mattered.

Brett: Brett nuzzled into his boyfriend's shoulder. "Thank you, baby," he whispered.

Bo: "We're going to go back into the living room now. Alright?"

Brett: He took a deep breath and nodded. "All right."

Bo: "I'm going to detangle a string of lights. I want you to call Emmanuel and get rid of that thing."

That thing which was now sitting pretty on his spot on the couch waiting for pets.

Brett: "Okay." He glanced at the clock on his bedside table. It wasn't inappropriately late yet. Besides, he knew Emmanuel kept an owl's schedule.

He pulled up the number and dialed.

Bo/Maximillian: From the living room he would hear, "Go away. Get down."

Moments later, Maximillian appeared by his feet.

Brett/Emmanuel: "A Chihuahua?" Emmanuel asked.

Brett nodded. "Yeah, a puppy. He was...someone gave him to me but I don't...my house is pretty small. He'd have no room to run and do...dog things."

Emmanuel nodded on his end. "Fair enough, fair enough. Judy has been asking me for a dog for a while now..."

"Yes, that's why--" A surprised yelp at the dog's sudden appearance made him break off his sentence.

Maximillian: Max tilted his head, utterly innocent to the exclamation. What?

Brett/Emmanuel: "Parker?! Parker, are you okay?! Parker!"

Brett snapped himself out of it. "Yes, sorry, I'm here. I'm fine. The dog startled me."

"Jesus, Parker," Emmanuel chuckled, a little breathlessly. "Damn near gave me a heart attack."

Brett took a deep breath. "I'm right there with you. Not used to having a small creature in here that can move from room to room on its own."

"That's how I felt when Judy started to walk." Emmanuel was quiet for a moment. "All right, I'll take the dog."

Brett's shoulders sagged in relief. "Good, yes, thank you. When can you come get him?"

"I can be there in...half an hour."

"Okay, see you then."

Brett hung up and looked down at the dog. "Looks like you have a new home."

Maximillian: 'This house is very loud.' The child-like voice came from by his feet, from the little dog starting up at him.

Brett: "Oh, no. No, no, no." Brett curled up on the bed and put a pillow over his head.

He didn't want to hear Maximillian. Hearing Maximillian meant that some of...

"No, no, no."

Bo/Maximillian: Max placed his paws on the bed and yipped. Bo immediately returned and clapped his hands.

"Get out!"

The chihuahua retreated under the bed with his tail between his legs.

Brett: He didn't want to, but....

'I'm sorry, I really am. I can't take care of you. I know it's not your fault. Emmanuel and his little girl can.'

Out loud, he said, "Emmanuel will be here soon."

Bo/Maximillian: "Good. It's under the bed. I'll get a broom."

The animal couldn't hear unless with eye contact, now that Brett had lost his progress.

Brett: "No, it's okay. He'll come out on his own eventually. Let's go get those Christmas lights untangled."

Maybe the dog would follow them if they left the room.

Maximillian: Being yelled at for existing wasn't helping the puppy's confidence in coming out to speak to the one person able to communicate with him.

Brett: When he got to the door, Brett crouched so he could see under the bed.

"....Puppy? You can come out."

Maximillian: Max looked to his temporary owner with wilted ears.

'No, thank you. I think I'll stay here for a while.'

Brett: Brett nodded and sank to the floor.

"I'm sorry."

Maximillian: 'The house isn't too small, Master.'

Brett: "I can't look after you. It's not your fault. I don't...you're better off with someone else. Someone better."

Maximillian: 'Why would he give me to you?'

Brett: He shrugged hopelessly. "I don't know. Today wasn't supposed to happen this way."

He wiped the moisture that gathered in his eyes. "Today was supposed to be good. It can still be good for you."

Maximillian: 'It can be good for everyone.'

Brett: Brett sniffled and leaned against the door frame. "How?" All this time it hadn't occurred to him that he was speaking aloud.

Bo: Bo watched from the end of the hall, frowning. Had his companion lost his mind completely?

"Brett, what are you doing?"

Brett: Brett turned toward Bo, only now realizing how he must appear right now.

"I'm apologizing to the dog."

Bo/Maximillian: "Why?"

'He's scary.'

Brett: 'He's not scary. He's protective.'

A tear slipped down Brett's cheek. "Because he didn't ask for any of this. He's just a little dog that had no say in who brought him into this situation."

Bo: "Well, he won't be our problem for much longer."

Brett: "I feel guilty." He wiped at his face for the umpteenth time. "I feel like I'm abandoning him."

Bo: "You didn't ask for him to begin with."

Brett: "I know. But I feel responsible just the same."

Bo: "Emmanuel will be here soon." For now, he'd keep Brett's attention with the lights.

Brett/Emmanuel: The lights did manage to occupy him, but only to a point. His mind kept drifting to the puppy hiding underneath his bed.

By the time Emmanuel knocked on the door, Brett didn't know if he dreaded or welcomed seeing him and having him take Max away.

Bo: Bo opened the door as he had last time, ready to yell at an unfamiliar face or beat someone with iron again - It was just Emmanuel Gaia.

"Oh." The door opened wider. "Come on in." Only you're allowed in here tonight.

Brett/Emmanuel: Emmanuel blinked. Well then. That wasn't exactly the greeting he'd expected.

"Hey, Botan," he said, stepping inside. "Hey, Parker. How you guys doing?"

Brett stared at the string of lights in his hands. "I've been better."

Bo: Bo looked between them. Had Brett told him when he was out of the room?

Actually, "Do you know what Fletcher Goodman is? Do you know of Fletcher Goodman?" It wasn't his secret to keep. He had no reservations in asking and exposing another creature.

Brett/Emmanuel: He hadn't, but considering what they'd been through with Emmanuel, Brett saw no point in pretending he was fine. He wouldn't offer details, but he wouldn't put on a show either.

Meanwhile, Emmanuel was looking at them both in utter confusion.

"Yeah, I know Fletcher Goodman. Kinda. Can't say what he is though, I have no idea. Never seen him do anything weird."

Bo: He wasn't satisfied by that answer. In this town riddled with abnormalities, how could anyone keep a damn secret?

"The...dog is in the bedroom."

Emmanuel: "All right. Uh, can I ask why you're asking about Fletcher? You see something weird?"

Bo: That, he would have to look to the sheriff. How much did he want him to know?

Brett: Brett gave Bo a pleading look and shook his head.

Bo: "Just...knew things without being present to witness."

Emmanuel: "He could be a Seer or have enough of the gift to be able to see certain things. With some help, of course."

Bo: And take on a vampire? He looked to Brett again and sighed. Not without his express permission would he continue.

Brett: Brett shook his head again. He didn't want to talk or think any more about it. Not tonight.

Bo: "...Anyway..." He'd have to leave it at that for now.

Emmanuel: Emmanuel gave them both another look. "All right. So the puppy's in the bedroom?"

Bo: "Mhm. Under the bed. Won't come out."

Emmanuel: "Why don't I go see if he'll come out for me." And give the two of you some privacy.

Emmanuel made his way to the bedroom, crouching as Brett had done to get a look at the dog. "Hey, buddy," he said gently. "Whatcha doin' down there?"

Bo/Maximillian: Eyes on Brett, Bo offered his hand. He didn't have to take it, of course. It was just an option.

"Are you alright?" he whispered.

Maximillian was having none of that.

Brett/Emmanuel: Of course Brett would take it. He'd take it and squeeze it and seek comfort against Bo's chest.

"Yes," he whispered back, nodding.

Emmanuel laid on his stomach. "It's okay, buddy. I'm not gonna hurt you. You can come out, it's okay."

Bo/Maximillian: Ears tucked themselves against his apple shaped head. He wasn't sure if he wanted to trust this strange bird.

Bo pulled the sheriff into his arms and squeezed him as though he were made of glass.

Brett/Emmanuel: "Still nothing, huh? Not even a peek out?" Emmanuel mentally kicked himself for not bringing some kind of treat. Oh, well. His gentlest voice would have to do. "Can't be too fun under there. Much warmer and more fun out here."

Brett snuggled into Botan's embrace, burying his face into the crook of his boyfriend's neck. He needed to smell him. He needed that reminder that he was real.

Maximillian: The problem was, he'd been attempting to speak to this human for some time with no success. This wasn't the same as the one that replied with literal understanding; not the same as his first master, either. He was already spoiled.

Still...he was hungry. Maybe he could scramble past to the smell coming from the warmest room in the house.

Emmanuel: Okay this wasn't working. The dog was simply not having any of Emmanuel's coaxing.

Maybe luring him out with food would work.

"Sit tight, buddy," he said, groaning as he stood. Maybe Brett and Bo would be willing to part with a spoonful of peanut butter.

Bo: He would find them in their tight embrace, Bo comforting the sheriff much as he had once done for him not too long ago. The human didn't seem to notice him.

Emmanuel: Something about seeing the two of them clinging together so tightly pulled at Emmanuel's heart. It was such an intimate moment. He almost felt like he was doing something wrong by witnessing it.

He slipped into the kitchen as quietly as a church mouse, going directly for the peanut butter and skipping the spoon all together. He'd buy them a new jar tomorrow.

Maybe now the dog would come out.

Bo/Maximillian: The scent peaked his interest enough to come to the edge of the bed for a better sniff.

"How difficult is it to pull a little dog out from under the bed," Bo sighed.

Brett/Emmanuel: Emmanuel smiled. "There we go. Good boy. Smells good, huh? You want some?" He scooped some onto his finger and held it out. "Tastes real good."

"Isn't there some saying about little dogs being stubborn?" Brett wondered.

Bo: "I wouldn't know," Bo frowned. "Don't think dogs were ever an interest to me."

Finally, Max was out from under the bed, licking Emmanuel's finger clean.

Brett/Emmanuel: "My grandma had one when I was little. Ollie. He was big and furry and I used to sneak him food off my plate when no one was looking."

Emmanuel sighed in relief. "Good boy. Good puppy. Want some more?" He scooped out more peanut butter. "Here you go, buddy."

Bo: "You would like them. It's very...you to like a companion animal so...friendly." Clingy and wholesome.

Brett: "Playing with Ollie was a lot more fun than watching Jeopardy with Gran. And I was lonely, so..."

Bo: "A child...shouldn't have to feel that way."

Brett: "No, they shouldn't," Brett sighed. "But too many do. I loved that dog."

Bo: He wasn't sure what else to say, so he said nothing, glanced to the master bedroom, hoping to see Emmanuel emerge.

Emmanuel: Emmanuel thought he was making some progress.

He was slowly moving back, using the peanut butter to lure the puppy further and further out, offering lots of praise along the way.

Maximillian: It wasn't the same communicational freedom he'd experienced just minutes before, but the man provided peanut butter, so he couldn't be all bad. He would sit by his lap and feast for as long as he was allowed.

Emmanuel: Emmanuel got as far as the hallway before deciding to take the victory. He didn't want to push his luck.

He turned to his hosts with a smile. "I think we're making some progress. I'll get you guys more peanut butter tomorrow."

Bo: "Can you pick him up now?" Bo asked. "The thing makes me nervous." Translation: I hate the thing and want it gone.

Brett/Emmanuel: "Should be able to now." Still offering peanut butter, Emmanuel gently attempted to pick up the puppy while Brett looked on with sad eyes.

Bo: "He has a leash by the door." He took Brett's hand and gave it a squeeze.

Brett/Emmanuel: Brett squeezed Bo's hand in return. There were so many doubts running through his head, so many things he wanted to say but couldn't articulate.

"All right," said Emmanuel, nodding. "Let's get your leash on, buddy."

Bo: "Thank you for doing this," Bo said to Emmanuel, though his eyes were on Brett.

Brett/Emmanuel: Brett wasn't looking at either of them; he was looking at the puppy.

"Yeah, sure. Gotta figure out how to hide him until Christmas. I guess I could ask my brother Bash to look after him."

Bo: "You're daughter will love it." Possibly. "Thank you again." He let go of Brett to get the door for him.

Brett/Emmanuel: "Absolutely. Happy to help."

Brett watched Bo release him as if frozen to the spot, heard Emmanuel's goodbye as if from a great distance before something inside him tugged too hard for him to ignore.

His old friend and the puppy were barely a quarter down the drive when Brett rushed to the door and called, "Wait!"

Bo: Oh, no. Bo frowned and moved out of the way. This was...not about to work the way he'd hoped. He could hold out for the idea that Brett just wanted one more goodbye, but...

Brett/Emmanuel: Emmanuel turned, brow furrowed in concern. "Everything okay?"

"I just...I...." Brett took a shaky breath.

"Parker?" Emmanuel asked gently. "What's wrong?"

"I..." He turned back to Bo, expression a mixture of apology and hope and sadness. "I can't," he whispered. "He needs me."

Bo: He could apologize, but he knew what was coming. He was already attempting to deal with it.

Brett: "I'll look after him, you won't have to do anything, I promise. I'll walk him and feed him and take him to the vet, I'll do it all."

Brett took Bo's hand in both of his own, held it. "He needs me."

Bo: Bo looked to Emmanuel, as though he could somehow rescue the situation.

Emmanuel: Emmanuel was looking between the two of them. Something else was going on here, and it wasn't just about the dog. There was tension practically clinging to the air.

"Uh...why don't I take him to Bash for the night, that way the two of you can....decide if you want to keep him?"

Bo: "Yes, thank you. That's what we need tonight." He looked Brett in the eyes, squeezed his hand in return.

Brett/Emmanuel: Brett nodded and brought Bo's hand to his chest. "Okay," he said, nodding. "Thank you, Emmanuel."

Emmanuel nodded. "Of course. Ya'll have a good night."

Bo: Perhaps out of sight out of mind would work in his favor, but more importantly, they finally had a chance to be completely alone. Once more he could focus on Brett's needs.

The door was shut and locked, Brett was led to the couch.

"What was that all about?"

Brett: Brett sank onto the couch and against his boyfriend. How could he begin to explain that--God help him--some part of him identified with that little dog, saw himself in it?

"Something about him pulls at me," he said softly. "I know he needs me."

Bo: "He was put upon you without your consent, like so much tonight. That doesn't make him your responsibility, Brett."

Brett: "It's not his fault. He's just a little puppy, he didn't ask for any of this. He's..." Brett closed his eyes. "He's me."

Bo: "I don't think...you're thinking clearly right now."

Brett: He shrugged. "Maybe I'm not, I don't know. But right now it feels like I'm doing him wrong. Like I'm betraying him."

Bo: "You shouldn't keep something out of guilt." He stood, tugged both of Brett's hands. "Let's finish out night the way it was intended."

Brett: "I know. But...I also shouldn't write him off for something that's not his fault."

But Bo was right. Maybe he should just put it out of his mind tonight. There was enough on it already.

He nodded and stood with Bo. "Yeah, okay. Let's put up our lights."

Bo: Lights, decorating the tree, and a good meal. Brett was watched closely, spoiled with affection and made to not want for anything for the rest of the night. Solitude was scarce tonight, leaving his side just long enough to shower and ready for bed. By tomorrow, Brett could change his mind. Perhaps the vampire's filth would be out of his system. He doubted both.

Brett: As the evening progressed, Brett's mood began to lift, just a little. Christmas was his favorite time of year, and he was still stubborn enough to refuse to let a demon take it away from him. From both of them.

He was the first to climb into bed, snuggling up to Bo the moment he joined him and staying wrapped around him the whole night.

But tired as he was, sleep wouldn't come. When it did, it was fitful. Images he wished he could've washed away with the blood kept flashing behind his eyelids, his own prayers and pleas and the demon's taunts kept playing on a loop.

Sometime before dawn, he woke from a nightmare in a cold sweat and sobs tearing at his throat.

Bo: Bo wasn't sure whether or not he should sleep in the same bed tonight. When upset he always preferred being alone, but he knew Brett was not the same. What was best for Brett was climbing into bed beside him, watching over him for as long as he could before falling asleep in his arms.

The sweat was what first woke him. He was hot, sticky, and uncomfortable. The blanket was tossed away from them, allowing air to circulate. He didn't assume anything. He watched, tried to go back to sleep, but the sheriff's cries soon had him sitting up, holding his shoulders and muttering, "Shh, it's alright. You're alright. We're home and everything's going to be alright."

Brett: Brett flinched at the touch before he realized that it was just Bo. Just Bo. Not MJ or the demon inside him forcing themselves on him to make him drink blood. It was just his Bo.

He held one of Bo's hands to his chest and curled onto his side, weeping miserably.

Bo: He wasn't sure if what he was saying was appropriate. This felt so raw and he felt so ill-suited. He had to force himself to lay back down, to pull Brett back into his arms.

"What did you dream?"

Brett: What Bo said wasn't nearly important as his presence. As long as he was within reach when Brett needed him, as long as he held him, he was doing enough.

It was a few moments until the tears subsided enough for Brett to speak.

"I could f-feel them. They were pinning me d-down and..."

Bo: "It's just a dream. Dreams aren't real. I know you know that, but you need to remember...you're okay."

Brett: Brett just burrowed his face into the crook of his boyfriend's neck and nodded. He knew the dream wasn't real, but he couldn't help but wonder if he'd ever feel clean again.

Bo: Lost for words, Bo squeezed the sheriff. What could he do, he wondered.

"Tell me about when we first met."

Brett: When they'd first met?

"It was um....it was raining," he said, sniffling. "I'd stopped by the bakery for a danish and I saw you outside."

Bo: "Just sitting there. I wasn't cold, but you wouldn't leave me alone," he smiled. Was this a decent distraction?

Brett: "It had just become fall. The rain was still a little warm but the wind was cool." Bo would be able to feel his smile. Yes. This was enough distraction.

"I didn't want you to catch a cold so I invited you inside and offered to buy you a cup of coffee."

Bo: "You just wanted an excuse to see more of me dripping wet."

Brett: Well, well, well. Was that a soft, quiet little chuckle?

Bo: Excellent. He kissed Brett's hand. "Good morning."

Brett: Brett gave Bo a small smile. "Good morning," he whispered.

Bo: "Want to try and sleep again?"

Brett: He nodded. He was still completely exhausted.

"Hold my hand?"

Bo: "I'm not going anywhere."

Brett: "I love you."

Bo: "Love you too, Sheriff Parker." Brett needed to hear it, so he would shower him in affection.

Brett: Brett did need it, and knowing he was safe in the arms of the person who loved him most in the world was what finally helped him fall into dreamless sleep.

Bo: This time Bo only took a nap, kept the blanket away from them so as to keep Brett cool. When he did sneak out of bed, slipped into his robe, it was with the intention to cook. Surely the sheriff wouldn't have yet another nightmare. He hoped.

Brett: Brett stirred a bit when Bo left the bed, calming again as he turned over and nuzzled against his boyfriend's pillow.

There would be no more nightmares today. He'd sleep peacefully until the smell of food stirred him again.

Bo: The smell of tofu scramble, vegan bacon, toast, and a chocolate peanut butter banana smoothie began to overwhelm the house.

Brett: It was the bacon that finally coaxed Brett out of bed. Even if it was vegan, he never could resist the smell.

He shuffled into the kitchen, leaning against the doorway with what could only be called a zombie noise, eyes still half closed.

Bo: "You don't have to be up right now," said Bo, back to the sheriff. "Go lay back down."

Brett: Another zombie noise. "Bacon," he mumbled.

Bo: "Come get some, then." He motioned Brett closer.

Brett: Brett walked over and rested his head on Bo's shoulder, taking a piece of bacon and nibbling on it.

"Good." His vocabulary was still set to 'caveman'.

Bo: "I added some garlic to it, cooked it in avocado butter. The scramble is usual, butter, salt, pepper, turmeric, garlic powder, and chives." That's fine. He'd carry the bulk of conversation.

Brett: "Mmmmmmm," Brett hummed with approval and nuzzled Bo. His sleepy version of a thank you. "Smells really good. Coffee?"

Bo: "I haven't started it yet. Just hit the button."

Brett: He stepped away just long enough to start the coffee maker before returning his head to Bo's shoulder.

Bo: "Couldn't go back to sleep?"

Brett: "Smell of food woke me. And your pillow was cold."

Bo: "Hmm. How about...you put on some Christmas music for us?"

Brett: Brett smiled. The only thing that could make him happier than bacon was Christmas music.

He pulled up the Christmas playlist on Pandora and turned it up, letting Dean Martin echo throughout their house.

Bo: "When we first met, I thought the 4th of July would be your favorite. Being a sheriff, it just seemed the logical choice."

Brett: "I can see that. Small town sheriff, red-blooded American. It'd be very fitting and patriotic. It's Peabody's favorite actually."

Bo: "That doesn't surprise me whatsoever." He wondered if he had a favorite. He couldn't say. "I like...winter." That's all he had.

Brett: "Doesn't surprise me either. I've never met anyone who likes grilling and fireworks as much as he does."

He smiled and kissed Bo's cheek. "It suits you. When I think of you, it's always in a sweater, curled up in front of a fire."

Bo: "Curled up? Like in a fetal position?" He didn't know if he liked that, but in a sweater, yes.

Brett: "Curled up like in a big squishy chair, with your feet up."

Bo: "Oh. Yes. That's fine." His eyes began to drift in a daydream. "My home in...Oslo, I wonder if it has a fireplace."

Brett: "I bet it does. A fireplace, a nice chair, and lots and lots of books for you to read in it."

Bo: "I hope so. I'd hate to be ashamed of my old home...my old life." Though he already was.

Brett: Brett nuzzled his boyfriend. "I hope so, too. Speaking of books. You know that section of wall in my room between the two windows?"

Bo: "You're going to put up a bookshelf?" he perked.

Brett: "Floating bookshelves. Right on the wall. What do you think?"

Bo: "Floating, yes! That's going to look very sharp." He paused. "Wooden?"

Brett: His smile was instant. "Yep, but we can paint them so they're any color we want."

Bo: "That's...That's going to be a fun project." Something to help Brett take his mind off of the darkness which lurked in this town.

Brett: "I was hoping you'd like it. We definitely need the space and the floating shelves will look nice and clean."

Bo: "Some bookends, too. Something...Something you'd like."

Brett: Bookends...

"What about those we saw at that antique shop? With the different stained glass?"

Bo: Stained glass of course peaked his interest. "We can buy them today...the shelves, too."

Brett: Brett smiled and nodded. "Deal. I'll measure the wall after breakfast."

Bo: As much as he didn't want the subject with his breakfast, he couldn't wait for the topic to be broached naturally.

"What are we doing with the dog?"

Brett: "Ah....well....."

Bo: "You still want it."

Brett: Brett looked down at his hands and nodded. "Yeah. I do."

Bo: "...Bookshelves and bookends first. We'll...get it after lunch." No use arguing the subject, not after what had happened to Brett yesterday.

Brett: He blinked. "We'll get it? You'll let him stay?"

Bo: "If I deny you, it will only depress you."

Brett: "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. You won't have to do anything, I promise. I'll take care of him."

Bo: "You'll do everything?"

Brett: "Everything. I'll feed him and walk him and train him and take him to the vet."

Bo: "You...really want it," he sighed. "Alright. Then...as I said, after lunch. Deal?"

Brett: Brett nodded. "I do," he said earnestly, wrapping his arms around Bo and squeezing him tight. "I really, really do. Thank you, baby. Thank you so much."

Bo: "Don't thank me just yet." He squeezed in return. "I might become a monster if it urinates in this house."

Brett: "I'll make sure he doesn't, I promise." Even if he had to take the dog out every hour on the hour.

Bo: No more talk of that animal. He turned to build a plate of breakfast to hand over. Today had to be positive.

Brett: Brett accepted it with a smile and a kiss, taking to the table before pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"Where do you want to go for lunch today?"

Bo: "It's only breakfast time," but he considered. His options were limited. "The fish and chips place you like. The fries and turnip greens are well made." One of the new places not to throw bits of ham into their pot of greens.

Brett: His face lit up as he said, "I walked past it when I was on patrol the other day and saw they added new things to the menu. Fried mushrooms and green bean fries."

Bo: "They must know a vegan frequents their establishment." Not really. He was only teasing.

Brett: Brett smiled and played along all the same. "They must indeed. We should camp out at Pete's until he makes his cook make black bean burgers."

Bo: "I don't think it would be that big of a feat for Peter's."

Brett: "No, probably not. It would be for the diner though."

Bo: "We're having a boring conversation right now," he smirked.

Brett: "Yes we are," he agreed with a nod, though he didn't seem at all fazed by it. It was....comforting.

Bo: "So...with what happened yesterday," he began again, "what's going to happen now?"

Brett: Brett looked down at his plate. "I don't know." And a very big part of him didn't want to. Ever.

Bo: "The tall one, is he going to show up here again?"

Brett: "If he does, I doubt it'll be any time soon," Brett said to his toast, voice quiet. Ashamed. After all, MJ had managed to do what he'd come here for.

Unless, of course, MJ had gone to him and Gertrude last night and told them what had happened.

Bo: Bo stared at the eyes of the stove, tried to solve the puzzle in his own. Going to the press would be useless. Brett would be killed and no one would believe them. Those that did, what use would they be? Creatures like this, thriving for as long as they have, must have their fingers everywhere.

"How's breakfast?"

Brett: His shoulders sagged in barely perceptible relief, grateful for the change in subject. He never wanted to think about that horrible night again for the rest of his life. Only of the beautiful day that preceded it.

"It's wonderful. Your scramble's better than mine."

Bo: "Good..."

Unfortunately, it would not be the end of the subject. The very man Bo was concerned with already knew, and knew he would have to bang the gavel on judgement sooner rather than later.

Brett: Brett finished the rest of his breakfast in relative silence, only speaking to compliment Bo on some aspect of the meal he had prepared. It wasn't that he had nothing to say to his boyfriend, his mind was just hellbent on dragging him under again and not letting him forget what had happened and what could happen as a result.

"I'll do the dishes," he offered. "You sit and have another cup of tea."

Bo: "I think," he stood from the table, kissed Brett's cheek, "I'll take a shower." As was his ritual, a shower in the morning and one before bed. This would give him the much-needed solitude to collect himself. He wasn't necessarily smothered, but being alone was his primary means of remaining sane.

Brett: He nodded, smiling at the kiss. They'd been together and lived together long enough for him not to take offense at the retreat. He knew his Botan liked solitude. "Okay, baby."

Bo: Surely, Brett would be alright for fifteen minutes. His apprehension felt like an old friend. There had to be something he could do. He was in no way responsible, but Brett's distress was one he had to share.

The shower was turned on the highest setting, Torsten Glockner pulled from his contacts.

{Text} Vampires are going to kill Sheriff Brett Parker. I need your help.

He hit send. It might not be a lie by next week.

Brett: Brett would be all right as long as he kept his mind occupied. He put away any leftovers they had, emptied the dishwasher, filled it again, poured himself another cup of coffee, added to the shopping list stuck on the fridge. He just had to keep from thinking. As long as he did that, he could almost make himself believe that everything was going to be okay.

Guildias: As Brett sipped his fresh cup of coffee, his phone would vibrate with a new text message. The number was a familiar, of course, belonging to Guildias.

{Text} I need to see you this hour.

Brett: His stomach turned with a fresh rush of anxiety and fear as he looked at the notification on his screen.

Guildias knew.

"Botan?" he called, voice trembling.

Bo: "Yes?" From the shower.

Brett: Brett picked up his phone and walked to the bathroom, stopping at the door.

"I-I just got a text. He...he knows."

Bo: "Who knows? The tall one?"

Brett: "Yes." Brett closed his eyes against the renewed threat of tears. "He wants to see me within the hour." He's going to kill me.

Bo: The bathroom door was opened. Water dripped from the ends of his bangs and chin, loosely wrapped in a towel.

"I'll go with you."

Brett: "I don't want him to hurt you," Brett whispered, taking in every single feature on Bo's face, tears clinging to his lashes. He didn't want to think that these could be his last moments seeing it, but...

Bo: His lips pursed, clearly not accepting of such possibility.

"What do you want me to do?"

Brett: Brett didn't want Bo to be hurt, but he didn't want to be without him either. It was weak, perhaps even selfish, but he knew he couldn't face whatever came without Bo by his side.

"Hold my hand."

Bo: He took it. It didn't matter if he meant now or by his side in front of the vampire.

Brett: Brett squeezed it. "I want to stop by the church first."

Bo: "Will that help against him?"

Brett: "I doubt it." Going to the church was for his own comfort. It was his way of getting last rites.

Bo: "Let me get dressed...I'll...I'm going with."

Brett: Brett nodded. "Okay." He should probably get dressed as well. He couldn't very well face his doom in pajamas.

As he gathered his clothes, he texted Guildias back.

{Text} All right

{Text} Where?

Bo/Guildias: Bo tried to dress sensibly. Jeans, of course, boots, jacket, leather gloves. He had no fathomable idea of what he could do to protect the sheriff, but he tried, for once, to imagine how Deputy Peabody would dress. Running away, hitting something or someone; none of it was ridiculous today.

{Text} My home. I just need you for a few minutes.

Brett: Brett closed his eyes. A few minutes. He supposed, in the grand scheme, that a few minutes was all it took.

{Text} Okay. I'll be there within the hour

He hit send and finished getting dressed, periodically stopping to wipe his face. Each movement felt heavy, like he had rocks attached to his chest and all his limbs. Considering the circumstances, that was probably normal.

Just before he left his room, he opened the bottom drawer of his dresser. Inside was a little wooden box containing the scapulary his father had given him for his first Communion. Brett hadn't looked at it or worn it in years but for better or for worse....he wanted it today.

Bo: Bo stood in the doorway to the master bedroom and watched, arms crossed, lip bitten. He knew the name of what Brett held, but not its purpose. Probably, he thought, just recycled remnants of memory.

"You don't have to go to him. We could right now to go an airport, go to Oslo."

Brett: He felt Bo before he saw him, before he heard him. That presence had been such a comfort to him in the time they'd been together.

"They'd find us," he said softly. "Come after us. Stop us. We'd be looking over our shoulders for the rest of our lives."

Brett slid the scapulary over his head and tucked it into his sweater. "Let's go to church."

Bo: "They're not all knowing all seeing creatures. They're flawed and can be avoided. No one else knows where I live." No one but Torsten Glockner. Would he tell them? He gave him away before, didn't he? Just one letter and he was taken away...with Brett's help.

"Alright. After you."

Brett: After last night, Brett wasn't so sure of that. He felt so small and powerless, and they so strong and omnipotent. Whatever hope he had was nowhere to be found today.

He put on his coat and the gloves Bo had gotten him, taking his boyfriend's hand as they walked out to the car.

Bo would be able to see and feel how it shook, how tightly he held to the steering wheel.

He drove in silence until, "We'll go to Oslo after New Year's." Maybe if he said it aloud, it would come true.

Bo: Bo held to his seatbelt as he had before, squeezing it like an anxious child.

"You promise me?" He watched his driver intently. "Promise me."

Brett: Brett looked over. There was so much misery in his eyes, so much torture. If God lets me live, they said.

Bo: "Say it out loud." He knew what those eyes were communicating but it wasn't enough. They had to hear it and feel it as one.

Brett: He reached for Bo's hand. "Jeg lover," he whispered in Norwegian. And may you and God forgive me if I can't keep it.

Bo: Once they arrived, Bo stepped out of the car and straightened his jacket. He didn't want to linger anywhere until this was all said and done and they were back home. Jeg lover, he'd said. He'll hold him to it.

Brett: Brett was a little slower getting out, having taken a couple of moments to breathe and gather himself. A part of him felt like he had no business being here, but that wasn't the part he was listening to today.

He took Botan's hand and led him into Father Patrick's beautifully restored church, crossing himself as he stepped over the threshold.

It was empty this time of day. Peaceful. Welcoming. Brett walked all the way down the aisle to the very first pew, where he got down on his knees and crossed himself again. Bo's hand was given a squeeze before Brett released it so he could clasp both of his in silent, desperate prayer.

Bo: The ritual of Catholicism felt cultish. Watching Brett cross himself multiple times reminded him of magic spells. He could and could not relate to such faith. He understood its power; understood that with its existence came creatures he could recognize. Having spent clandestine time in the company of a demon, he could not sneer at Brett's beliefs. Still, he could not join him in prayer.

He took a seat at the nearest pew, stiffly leaned back in the wooden seat.

Brett: No matter how far he thought he'd come from saying Hail Mary's any time his father thought he should be repentant of something, here Brett was, saying those same words he'd said so many times and hoping with all his might that they reached Heaven. But this time, unlike all those others, he wasn't praying to save his own soul.

He was praying for a quick death, for mercy, and for Botan.

'Keep him safe,' he begged the saints towering over the altar. 'Don't make him pay for my sins--for my weakness--any more than he already has. Protect him from those who would do him harm, let him live happily and in peace even if I can't be with him. Please keep him safe and warm until the day I can be with him again.'

Brett took a deep breath.

'The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.' Another deep breath. 'He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.'

Brett carefully got to his feet and went over to the basin of holy water at the altar. He dipped his fingers and crossed himself one last time before holding a hand out to Botan, silently inviting him to join him.

Bo: Bo wasn't sure what he was meant to do other than watch. He wished there was a spell he could recite to make Brett's misery float away as ash. He didn't understand how this was the same creature from the MacGillivray house, the problem solver with blood to spare. He was also the one to encourage his capture, but also secured his release. Was he a puppet or master?

Bo twitched when he realized he was the temporary center of attention. He took the sheriff's hand and squeezed.

Brett: Brett himself didn't know what he was anymore. He just felt...human. Fallible. Guilty. His only chance at redemption was purging himself of the blood and no longer being a ghoul and that was what was about to get him killed.

What hope was there?

He brought Botan's hand to his lips and dipped his free hand back in the holy water.

"Can I?" he asked softly.

Bo: "For you...yes." He would entertain the notion. It might mean something more than dead symbolism. In this new-yet-old world he couldn't be certain.

"Go ahead."

Brett: He gave Bo a small, grateful smile. "Thank you." There was no way of knowing if his prayers would reach Heaven or if the sign of the cross would protect either of them, but then this wasn't about certainty. It was about faith.

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, Amen." Brett crossed Bo, bringing his fingers to his boyfriend's lips for Bo to kiss.

Bo: His kiss was blasphemous indeed. If it was meant to be part of the ritual he didn't really care; there was a chance to offer Brett affection and he was going to take it.

"Ready?" He managed to keep his tone level and gentle, as was needed.

Brett: It was, but completing the ritual wasn't nearly as comforting as the affection.

Brett took a deep breath and nodded. "I'm ready." Even though he wasn't, he led Bo back out to the car.

Guildias: Guildias waited quietly in his living room, re-reading an old classic for the sake of occupying his mind. He knew what he had to do and he had no qualms, just a sense of anticipation which had him re-reading every seventh sentence.

Brett: Brett's hands started shaking on the steering wheel halfway through the drive. His stomach and chest felt so jittery and tight that he couldn't tell if he wanted to throw up or cry. He'd probably do both very soon.

He sat in the car for a few moments after they parked, reaching for Botan's hand and holding on to it for dear life.

"I love you," he whispered. "I love you with all my heart and soul."

Bo: "I'll stay in the car." He didn't know why it seemed necessary to whisper. "Let me come with you."

Brett: As much as he wanted Bo to stay where it was safe, Brett nodded. Please come with him.

Bo: "Please don't die. I don't want to drive this clunker into the building you perish in." His attempt at a joke was in poor taste.

Brett: Despite the moisture gathering in his eyes, Brett managed a weak laugh.

"Maybe one day you'll drive something nicer."

Bo: "Perhaps. For now I appreciate you being my driver." So don't die.

Brett: "I know. And I appreciate being your driver." I'll try not to.

Brett unbuckled his seatbelt. Time to face the music. "I just need to grab something really quick."

Bo: A gun or a cross he hoped. Perhaps they should have stolen some holy water. He wondered if the crime would contaminate its power.

These thoughts were not helping him relax.

Brett: It was both, but neither were for Brett. He wanted Bo to have the rosary for some protection and peace of mind, even if it was only symbolic. He also wanted Bo to have his service weapon in case...just in case.

When he returned, the gun was put in his glove compartment and the rosary given to his boyfriend. "I know you're not Catholic but...humor me?"

Bo: Bo stared at the rosary, which felt more dangerous than the gun.

"What am I meant to do with this, Brett?" He took it just the same, held it clumsily in both hands.

Brett: "Just wear it. You don't have to pray or anything." I already did that for you. "It might not do much, or anything at all, but....I'd feel better if I knew you were wearing it." If I knew there was a chance God would protect you.

Bo: "Then if it'll make you feel brave, I'll do it." He didn't imagine people worry rosaries. The only images which came to mind were that of it being held between praying hands. He wore it just the same, held the cross in his fist.

Brett: It didn't make him feel brave at all, but he'd take all the comfort he could get right now. Maybe it would help take his mind off of how completely terrified he was.

He kissed Bo's cheek. "Thank you, baby." For everything.

Time to drive to the gallows.

Guildias: The gallows were quiet. A serene looking house nestled in the woods behind Devon Moss' house, down a steep hill. Tucked away, it seemed, from humanity's noise.

The porch light was the beacon, the narrow dirt path warmly lit by tiny copper and black yard lights. Impossible to guess a vampire dwelled within, thought Bo.

Brett: Impossible to guess but hard to deny. If a vampire was going to live anywhere, it made sense that they would choose a spot where barely any sunlight made it through the canopy of trees above.

Brett held tightly to Bo's hand, reluctant to let him go and face Guildias. "I love you, baby. No matter what happens in there, please remember that. And whatever does happen in there...I'm so sorry." He let go of his boyfriend's hand to pull him into a hug. "If anyone tries to hurt you, you grab my service weapon and you run, okay? Promise me."

Bo: "If I run anywhere, it's going to be into the house to get you." A final squeeze, and he cupped Brett's face.

"Don't let him see you're afraid."

Brett: There might be nothing to come and get, Brett thought, nodding anyway.

He took a shaky breath. "I'll try." Just one more hug.

Bo/Guildias: Bo couldn't allow him to linger. If he did, he might say something, might encourage him again and whatever was going to happen was set in stone.

Now go, be brave, he thought.

The path was clear, and the door was opened before Brett Parker had a chance to knock. His owner stood just behind the door, leaving the path open for him to walk through.

"Punctual you are again, sheriff."

Brett: Heart heavy, Brett turned from Bo's embrace, from his eyes and his face and his lips, and stepped into Guildias' house feeling colder than he had in his whole life.

He wouldn't let himself cry. He would try his best to mask his fear and be brave.

Brett swallowed and nodded. "I always am." Don't let your voice shake.

Guildias: "Here...let me see you."

The door was closed, locked. He didn't need the human in the car to interfere. He had a tendency for bursts of courage.

"I hear our Mr. Calloway was less than kind." Gentle and warm hands turned the sheriff around by his shoulders, tipped his chin and examined him.

Brett: What little blood had made it down Brett's throat might have taken care of most of the physical damage he'd sustained, but the near violent flinch Brett gave the moment Guildias touched him would tell the vampire far more than any mark ever could.

Brett closed his eyes and turned away, almost as if he expected pain and was trying to curl in on himself in trembling defense. No. Mr. Calloway had not been kind.

Guildias: "Mr. Parker," he said with tone equal to his hands. "Take a breath for me." His left hand slid down to his elbow, the other remained on his neck, caressed affection there.

Brett: Brett flinched again when Guildias' hand slid down his arm, but he was still Guildias' ghoul. He was bound to him, and as much as Brett didn't want it to, the vampire's affection brought a measure of comfort.

Eyes remaining closed, Brett managed a breath. It was shaky and was too shallow to do anything but it was a breath.

Guildias: "Why are you frightened? Do you think I'm going to kill you, Mr. Parker?"

Brett: He wished Guildias could see into his head. He wished Guildias could see everything that had happened the night before, everything that had been done to him that had turned anyone's touch but Bo's into something to fear without Brett having to say a word.

He finally opened his eyes and looked at Guildias. Aren't you?

Guildias: "I spent a week up north finding a suitable replacement for your human you have waiting out in the car. You're much more valuable to the world alive than dead."

Brett: Brett blinked in confusion. "....What?" he asked, much more softly than he intended. Replacement for Bo? What did that mean?

Guildias: "Getting him out of Ms. Draegan's house was not of her own good will. I had to give her something just as interesting."

Brett: "To be my office manager?"

Guildias: "No, no." He chuckled. "Replacement for her experimentation."

Brett: "Oh." He seemed to relax just a bit. "So she's moved on? She won't come after him?"

Guildias: "For now, but what happens to you reflects on his safety. I'm not in control of that. I'm not the prince."

Brett: Brett nodded. He could only hope that Gertrude lost her appetite for torturing Bo. It was awful for the poor soul who was now on the receiving end of her cruelty, and he felt awful for it, but he couldn't help but be glad that that poor soul wasn't his Botan.

Of course, that still begged the question....if Guildias wasn't going to kill him for declaring that he no longer wanted to be a ghoul...then what was he going to do to him?

Guildias: Guildias cupped his face with both hands once more. He had to do to him what he had their first meeting. His warm and inviting hands transferred sensation, obsession, a desire which would have felt honest. A desire to belong to him, a desire to be his ghoul, for the conditioning of strength and immunization.

"Mr. Parker?"

Brett: Again there was the flinch. It would be the last, however. At least where Guildias was concerned.

Because the longer the vampire touched and looked at him, the more Brett felt that being Guildias’ ghoul....wasn't that bad. It was....it was good. Guildias had always been kind to him. Patient with him. And if Brett was his ghoul and if he was good, Bo would be okay. They both would. No one would hurt them.

He blinked when Guildias said his name. It was like he came out of a trance.

Guildias: His vampire caressed the side of his face with his thumb, removed one of his hands.

"What do you want me to do about Mr. Calloway?"

Brett: Brett swallowed. The mention of MJ had that familiar, heavy nausea roiling inside him again.

"I don't want to be his ghoul anymore." He hurt me. His demon hurt me.

Guildias: "So be it. You won't see him again in such manner. He does not deserve you."

Brett: "What about the demon?"

Guildias: "The demon?"

Brett: "There's a demon inside him. It..."

Guildias: Guildias walked to the couch, leaned against the arm and crossed his arms. "Go on."

Brett: Brett took a deep breath and hugged his arms around himself.

"It has dark eyes," he began, eyes closing again. "It talks differently. When I told him no, he...he f-forced himself on me and..." A solitary tear rolled down his cheek. "He choked me. He forced his arm into my mouth. I begged him to stop but he...I couldn't make him stop. I passed out."

Guildias: "Do you want me to be brutally honest with you, Mr. Parker?" He offered his hand to the sheriff, encouraging him to approach.

Brett: "What do you mean?" he asked, stepping closer.

Guildias: "About your situation."

Brett: Brett gave a hesitant nod.

Guildias: "If you were a sheriff in say, Raleigh. Have you been to Raleigh? Had you said no, that you did not want to be a ghoul, you would be dead right now. It would not matter which vampire you denied. You would be a breech to the Masquerade. You know too much. You would not be allowed to walk away with the information you have. Others, less kind, would do as MJ had...or worse. Trust me, Mr. Parker...I've seen worse. Morality is a concept for your kind, not ours. You are a means to an end. You are called kine."

He took the sheriff's hand, squeezed it in both of his. "I love each and every ghoul I have. We are here in Edenton because we are, at our core, Autarkis. We want no part of the politics, but we must uphold some sort of rule. We have a prince namely for appearance sake. I uphold what few rules we have. We keep this small sanctuary safe for those in need. This includes you, Mr. Parker. I love you and want you safe. I don't want to kill you."

Brett: Brett nodded at the question. "I went to the police academy in Raleigh," he said before falling silent and listening.

Much of what Guildias was telling him had been told to him before, and much of it also coincided with what MJ had said and with conclusions Brett had drawn on his own. It was...humbling, to say the least.

Humbling and in a very real way, horrifying.

In any other place, with any other domitor, he wouldn't be standing here. He would've been assaulted for saying no, for becoming a threat. He definitely would've been killed. That much was crystal clear.

It was as Brett had said earlier. They were being punished for being human. Having Guildias' protection didn't negate that, nor did Brett's knowledge that being a ghoul kept him safe. He was a means to an end. Expendable.

More tears fell as his hand was squeezed. "I don't want to die," he whispered. "I made a promise."

Guildias: "I don't want you to die. From now on you will come to me if and when any vampire approaches you. From now on, you will take your feeding from me only. I promise, you'll never be put in that position again."

Brett: As much as Brett wanted to take Guildias' reassurance for what it was, last night was still too present in his mind. For every comforting thing the vampire said, a dozen awful ones popped into Brett's head.

"He made my house disappear. I couldn't see Bo or hear him or smell him or my tree or anything and the tiles in my kitchen had hearts on them and he wasn't even there! What if he does it again? What if he does it at the station or to Bo when I'm not there?" Notes of panic were entering into his voice.

Guildias: So, the trickster had improved since their last meeting.

"His kind are manipulators of reality, Mr. Parker. I cannot begin to fathom all that they are capable of, but Mr. Calloway...has his issues. Seeing as they are causing destruction to the peace, I will get rid of him." Brett Parker didn't need to know MJ Calloway's internal struggle. However, his close proximity to others meant he might find out eventually. Peter had been of little use as they had anticipated.

"There is a demon inside of him. His control over that demon has dissipated. Now it will be dealt with."

Brett: Brett couldn't even begin to fathom how that was even possible. Some days he still had a hard time believing that vampires and magic were real and were in his life and his town. How was he ever supposed to understand the world they lived in if new things kept appearing at every turn?

"Why is the demon there? What's going to happen to MJ when it's gone?"

Guildias: "To explain that, I would have to expand your knowledge. Is that something you want?"

Brett: His chest tightened at the mere thought of having some more of those new things appearing.

"Maybe not today." Or this year. Or ever.

Guildias: "Then don't ask me why a demon is inside of him."

Brett: Brett nodded. Understood.

Guildias: Gently, Brett was pulled closer, brought between Guildias' legs.

"Where do you want to feed from me? Anywhere of your choice." You've earned it.

Brett: He didn't resist being maneuvered, didn't shrink away at the prospect of feeding like he would have an hour ago. Guildias' magic had done its job. He wanted to be a ghoul. He wanted to feed.

But there was something...a small, insistent little something that felt like it was clawing out of his throat to say, "....Can I have a spoon?"

Guildias: "You may drink from my finger, though it will take longer."

Brett: "Okay," he said with another nod. Maybe next time he would be able to use a spoon. It was important to him that he be able to use it.

Guildias: Guildias was also dwelling on the whys and hows. From his back pocket came a tactical folding knife. He sliced into his right thumb.

"I'll find you ways to enjoy an on-the-go treat. For now," he offered his hand.

Brett: Guildias was given a grateful look. "Thank you." What a contrast this was to last night. This felt so much gentler. So much less tense. Perhaps that wasn't all due to Guildias' magic, but such thoughts wouldn't come to Brett for a long time.

Brett took Guildias' hand with great caution, feeling only a small bit of trepidation as he brought the wound to his lips and fed slowly.

Bo/Guildias: Bo adjusted in his seat uncomfortably. The seat belt was pulled forward for the zip sound and brought back. Again and again he did this to pass the time, to somehow occupy his mind, but it did nothing but leave a strange tingle in his fingertips.

He eyed the glove compartment.

They could end this now. He could go inside and shoot the vampire in the head. They could be in Oslo by tomorrow. Whatever life existed there had to be better than this one.

But whatever ripped out his tongue might be waiting for them in Norway.

The seat belt was pulled again.

And Brett Parker was pulled closer by his waist.

Brett: Brett stiffened for just a moment before he remembered where he was and relaxed again, letting himself be pulled in close. Close and safe. Guildias wasn't going to hurt him.

Guildias: No, Guildias wouldn't, and he wouldn't tell Brett to stop. He could have as much as he wanted short of draining him completely. He was curious to see how far he would go.

Brett: Just like with the spoon, that insistent something inside Brett told him when to stop. It wasn't more than he usually took when Guildias fed him, it wasn't less. It was just enough.

Guildias: "Very good," he praised. A sweet milk and honey sheriff he was. In some ways, he reminded him of Callum. That shy, cautious nature withholding an eruption of desire. Nothing more beautiful to corrupt.

"Are you going to be alright now?"

Brett: That managed to coax a small half smile out of Brett. His need for praise and approval and affection wasn't as strong as it had been when he'd first become a ghoul, but it was still present enough for praise to make him happy.

"I think so," he said softly. "Um....I'm going on vacation with Botan soon. After New Year's. Is that okay?"

Guildias: "Where do you want to go?"

Brett: "Norway."

Guildias: "Leaving means being unprotected. You're stronger with this blood, but...not against my Kindred."

A sharp thumbnail was scratched over his forehead.

"Someone is going to see you're a ghoul and want to know where I am. I'm going to have to mark you. I've been ignoring this for too long."

Brett: Brett frowned. "M-mark me?" He did not like the sound of that at all. It brought to mind images of brands. "But how would anyone know I was a ghoul if I'm just out in the daytime in a city full of people?"

Guildias: "The methods are almost endless. Clearly I can walk in daylight. There is all sorts of magic. A ghoul with the correct power from their domitor would know immediately and I don't want to risk you around those with questionable mental health."

Brett: "But....does it have to be a mark?" His voice was beginning to shake again. "Maybe....maybe Callum or Miss MacAllister can give some protection. Callum said she knew how to make amulets."

Guildias: "What is that going to do against a vampire wanting to keep you?"

Brett: "What if the amulet hides me so they won't know I'm there? Can amulets do that?" Please don't mark him.

Guildias: Guildias remained silent, placed his hands in his lap, wrapped his arms around Brett's waist and held him close.

Brett: Again the momentary tense, again the immediate relaxation.

"I promise I'll be careful," he said softly. "I won't stay out late or stray from places with people."

Guildias: "Just a word and a vampire can make you follow them home and - and I'm not going to risk your safety over a small tattoo behind your ear."

Brett: "Can I still ask Miss MacAllister? I need to talk to her anyway." About an amulet for Bo. Just as Guildias wasn't willing to risk his safety, Brett wasn't willing to risk his Botan's.

Guildias: "Of course you may. If or when someone asks who you belong to, I want you to tell them...Valiant and Guildias. Will you do that for me?"

Brett: Brett was about to ask who Valiant was, but reconsidered. Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to.

He nodded. "Okay. I will."

Guildias: "Good man. Well discuss the tattoo closer to your departure. Is there anything else?"

Brett: He shook his head. "No, that's everything."

Guildias: "Then I will conclude with this." A hand to the back of Brett's head, pulling him into a brief kiss to his forehead, ritual to every night for the past five months.

"Be well, Mr. Parker."

Brett: The kiss, more than anything else that had happened from the moment he walked in the door, made Brett realize that he was really going to walk out of here alive. God had let him live. God had let him keep his promise to Bo.

He was going to live and they were going to Oslo in the new year.

"I will," he said, closing his eyes at the affection.

Bo: Bo was about thirty seconds from exiting the vehicle when Brett reappeared. No screams, no clashing. He was in one piece.

He visibly sagged with relief.

"What happened?" he greeted.

Brett: He wasn't the only one. Before Brett said a word or even took a complete breath he was closing the distance between them and pulling Bo into his arms.

"I'll tell you everything, just let me hold you for a second."

Bo: So he would cling to Brett's jacket and breathe with him. There didn't seem to be a scratch on him.

Brett: There wasn't, and that alone was something to be grateful for.

"I love you so much," he whispered. "Thank you for coming with me. For being with me. For existing."

Bo: "That's a lot to thank me for."

Brett: "I have a lot to be grateful for."

Bo: "You're alive. Tell me why when we get home. I don't want to be here."

Brett: Brett nodded, squeezing Bo tighter. "I'm alive. Let's go to the hardware store and lunch and anywhere else you want."

Bo: Bo would wait until distance was placed between them and the concrete house before taking Brett's hand again.

Brett: He immediately twined their fingers and brought Bo's hand to his lips. "Where do you want to go, baby?"

Bo: "Are you wanting to do anything constructive, or go home after this? What...happened?"

Brett: Brett thought for a moment. "I want to build the bookshelves and have lunch with you. I want to feel normal." He sighed. "I got a reality check."

Bo: "A reality check?"

Brett: He nodded. "I told him what happened last night. MJ already had, but....he didn't go into detail."

Bo: "And?"

Brett: "He told me that if we lived anywhere else and I had said that I didn't want to be a ghoul anymore, I would've gotten...much worse than what MJ did. And they would've made sure to finish me off because I couldn't not be a ghoul, knowing what I know. I'd be a threat."

Bo: "That sounds... unsurprising." He understood the logic there; that didn't mean he appreciated it being administered to the sheriff.

"We could go to Oslo and never come back."

Brett: "There are vampires there, too. And who's to say Gertrude wouldn't send one of them after me for stepping out of line again."

Brett squeezed Bo's hand. "Being a ghoul here is the only thing that's going to keep us safe. I won't be killed, and that awful woman won't lay a hand on you again."

Bo: "She doesn't know where I live." Yet he hesitated. Torsten Glockner knew. He had reason to doubt that creature's loyalty, given their recent experiences.

"I hate this place."

Brett: Brett seriously doubted that would stop her. All this business with vampires reminded him of the mob. One way or another, he was sure Gertrude Draegan would find them.

"It seemed so different when I was growing up. It felt so safe. Like a little bubble tucked between the river and the sound."

Bo: "Maybe they have limitations. Maybe children...are not to be considered. Maybe we were both blind. Maybe only you. I can't say."

Brett: "I hope they have limitations," Brett murmured to himself. Adults were one thing, but preying on innocent children would be beyond heinous, beyond morally corrupt. He wanted to believe that even vampires wouldn't stoop so low.

"No, not just me. Every sheriff since they got here. I'm just the latest in a long line."

Bo: Again, he saw the logic, but he didn't want it applied to Brett Parker. "Let's go home, please."

Brett: He nodded and brought Bo's hand to his lips again. "Okay, baby. We'll go home and lock the door."

Bo: "New locks...and I want the windows always locked unless it's daytime."

Brett: Another nod. He'd been thinking along the same lines. "They will be from now on. I want to get a doorbell camera too."

Bo: "Good. Sooner rather than later." He wanted to feel safe again. "So...more to get at the hardware store."

Brett: "We can order the doorbell camera online and have it in a couple days. The rest can be done in an hour."

#brettmparker #bonowicki #petegraham #mjcalloway #victoriaharrak #fletchergoodman #emmanuelgaia #anedendarkly #Cute skype chapter #Cute

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