zeegoeshere

Part 1 here.

*

Brian got a lead on the actual location of the gang of vampire drop-outs in late December, but they decided against making a move on them immediately. They've been watching the gang for weeks instead, observing them in shifts, and it's one of the most boring projects Pete's ever been involved in, but then one of them falls into their lap.

Bob had been out in the back of the school smoking when one of the vampires--Pete has to assume one of the more exceptionally stupid ones, they hadn't all seemed like such morons from everything he's seen--attacked him. Gerard had been on his way outside to join him smoking, and the two of them easily overpowered him, knocking him out and dragging him inside.

He's now chained to a chair in the main office, dried blood on his face from where they hit him. He's the skinniest thing Pete has ever seen, he's got several days' growth of beard and his brown hair is long and matted.

None of them expected to have to interrogate one of the gang so immediately. "I don't suppose anyone here has ever, um, interrogated a vampire for information before?" Patrick says, looking around at all of them with with skepticism on his face.

"Not really, no," Brian says, rubbing his hands over his face and touching the back of his neck. "Fuck, I'm not even sure exactly what I need to know from him."

"Just don't let him know that while we're trying to get shit from him," Gerard snaps. Gerard's cheeks are flushed; Pete's pretty sure he'd only been on his second drink, maybe third, while going out for that smoke break.

Gerard looks around at all of them. "Here's how it's going to work: Brian will ask the questions, he knows what he needs. I'll give the order if we need to take extreme measures to make us tell him anything; Bob will be the one to actually do it." Gerard meets Bob's eyes to confirm this, and Bob nods. "Anyone who has a problem with this should not be in the room when we start talking to him."

No one contradicts Gerard, and they're all in the room when Andy wakes the vampire up, spraying water in its face. It starts and snarls, teeth out and vicious, jerking its body around so hard trying to get free of its chains that Pete thinks he might break something.

"We know what your name is," Brian says. "We've been watching you. It's Graham, right?"

Brian must be the only one of them who's studied the gang hard enough to know that--Pete had no idea who it was. Graham stares at Brian for half a second before laughing.

"My lunch studied me! I feel flattered, wow, that's just." He snaps his teeth. "Come a little closer and I'll tell you my last name too."

"You really think you're going to eat us for lunch?" Frank asks, amused. "You're the one tied to the chair."

The vampire looks over at Frank but doesn't retort; he just looks Frank up and down, thirsty gaze settling on Frank's neck.

"We're working against Gabe and Maja," Brian continues. "We know you ran from them. We could, potentially, be on the same side."

Brian stops talking to wait for Graham's laughter to die down. "And if you don't cooperate, we'll torture you until you will," Brian says then, shrugging.

"I am clearly quaking in my boots," Graham says. "You really thought any vampire might give anything to a band of humans? How fucking stupid are you?"

"You're the one that wandered in here," Frank says, and the vampire stares at his neck again. Frank shows no reaction.

"I was hungry," Graham says, his eyes still on Frank's aorta. "I'm not telling you a god damn thing until I get someone to eat."

"Here," Patrick says, pushing a glass of the blend in his face. The vampire looks like he's being asked to drink urine.

"I don't need a smoothie, fatso," he snarls, but Patrick is already forcing the drink down his throat, ignoring Graham's indignant gurgling sounds.

"That's all you're gonna get, so I hope it does the trick," Gerard says, his arms still crossed over his chest. The vampire licks spilled liquid from his lips, still clearly pissed, but Pete is pretty sure there's a clearer, calmer look in his eye.

"Now you're going to talk," Frank says, smiling sweetly and toying with a small stake in one hand.

"If you think I'm telling you jack shit, you clearly don't know Gabe at all, and you also think I'm a moron," Graham says. "You guys are going to kill me, right? If for some reason I don't die here and word gets out that I told Gerard Way anything about Gabe and Maja, I'm worse than dead."

"'Worse than dead?' Be more of a cliche, why don't you," Joe says.

"We're not going to kill you," Brian says. "We're working to get more of your kind on our side--"

Graham howls with laughter, shaking his restraints. "Are you fucking--"

"--which is how we got him on our side," Brian continues calmly, jabbing his thumb at Pete. "We expected you to be unwilling, of course, but we can promise you protection from Gabe and Maja and a way to live without feeding on humans."

Graham stops laughing, and Pete shifts uneasily. No vampire is going to view a life without human blood as a good thing, and he didn't know Brian was going to try this tactic.

"If you think any real vampire would willingly work with humans, even against Gabe, you're worse than just meat," he says coldly, his lips drawn back against his teeth. Pete hears a growl in his chest that he wasn't aware of, and the vampire switches its gaze from Brian to him, the look of revulsion just getting more intense.

"But you're not a real vampire," Frank says, sweet smile still in place. "You're exiled, aren't you? And Gabe's been picking off your merry little band one by one. He got your little girlfriend just last week, right?"

Graham's eyes go wide, either at the memory or at the knowledge that they've been watching him that closely. "Fuck you--" but his voice is weaker now, shaky.

"We can offer you and your friends protection," Brian says again firmly, and Pete sees Gerard's shoulders stiffen. "If you just help us right now. We just need information, and we know that you have it, and we'll do what we have to to get it from you."

Some of the vampire's bravado returns, and he laughs. "Oh man, now I'm terrified. You think anything you can do to me will be worse than what Gabe's already done? Hell, you think you can protect me?"

"We've protected him," Ray says, nodding at Pete, and Pete gives Graham a little wave, demonstrating his alive-ness.

"Big deal," Graham says, rolling his eyes. "The only reason he's alive--that any of you are alive--is because Gabe and Maja don't give enough of a shit to make an effort of destroying you. You're just not important enough."

"Really?" Pete says. "You haven't heard them talk about that motherfucking traitor from Chicago? Haven't overheard their revenge schemes for those cocksuckers that torched Maja last year?"

Pete has no idea if Gabe has talked about him at all, but the gamble pays off: Graham stares, and Pete sees recognition dawn in his eyes, see him realize who Pete is.

"But you've been a traitor from the start," he says after a moment, pulling himself together. "You think I'm naive enough to believe that you people will let me live when I've been murdering the rest of your species for a decade?"

"Well, it looks like he's not going to talk willingly," Frank says, faking disappointment, and nods at Bob, who steps out from behind the vampire's chair to press a hot poker to his thigh, burning through his clothes and against his skin only inches away from his crotch.

Gerard waves Bob away when Graham has screamed for a bit. "We don't do things fancy here, no complicated methods of torture," he says. "But you guys aren't big fans of fire, am I right?"

"Blow me," Graham offers through gritted teeth.

"Only if you play nice," Frank says, and Bob scowls at him.

"You're stuck with us for a while no matter what you decide," Gerard says, shrugging. "We'll give you the day to think it over."

Patrick makes him drink another glass of the blend and they leave, Ray staying to stand guard. When they come back that night, Graham doesn't look like he's slept at all, and he keeps licking his teeth, compulsively. Patrick makes him drink again.

"You've had some time to think, so you've probably realized that if we let you go right now or you escape, it's still a death sentence because it'll be assumed that you talked," Brian says. "Your own gang will probably get you even before Gabe does. Literally the only option right now that won't end in your death is if you give us information and let us provide you with sanctuary."

There's utter hatred in every line of Graham's face as he stares at Brian.

"Bob, burn his neck," Gerard says, and the vampire screams as Bob presses the poker against his throat, beneath his jaw.

"Fuck!" he yells, voice high and strangled as his skin smokes. "I'll fucking talk, I'll fucking--" Bob doesn't remove the poker until Gerard gives him a nod.

"Okay," Brian says, crouching down until he's eye level with Graham, his hands steepled beneath his chin. "Here's what we want to know."

"How much protection did Gabe usually have around him? Did he go around with any kind of bodyguard, or several, or is he usually by himself?"

"He's usually surrounded when he's at home," Graham says, shrugging. "But that's just because he likes the company. When he goes out he usually has a couple of lowlies with him to be cannon fodder if they get into any trouble." His lip curls in hatred.

"And Maja?"

"She goes everywhere with Astrid, some Swedish bitch she brought over with her. Astrid is a bodyguard, I guess, or they're attached at the hip for some other reason."

"So Gabe goes out with others to act as cannon fodder," Brian muses. "Why? What kind of trouble might he run into? What's he worried about?"

"Not you, in case you're wondering," Graham scoffs. "There are always fights among us, there's always someone trying to take Gabe down. He's got at least three or four factions going for his head by this point."

"Tell me everything you know about each of these factions and why they want Gabe." Brian smiles when the vampire glares and hisses.

Pete loses track of the information flow fairly soon into it; he hasn't been paying nearly as much attention to the strategic details and complications that Brian has been obsessing over as he should be, because he's been distracted by Gerard. He glances over at Gerard as Graham is talking, and Gerard's eyes are fixed on him, unwavering. Occasionally he shifts his weight, or uncrosses his arms and crosses them again.

"Thank you," Brian says, as Patrick feeds the vampire another glass of the blend. Brian turns to look at the rest of them, his eyes shining. "This is--fuck. We can do something with this." He reaches up to rub the back of his neck, shaking his head slightly and muttering to himself.

"You gonna let me up now?" Graham says, his voice bitter. His head is hanging down but Pete can see self-hatred in the line of his shoulders. He's already thinking traitor to himself.

"Sure," Gerard says, stepping forward. Pete can see the movement half a second before it happens, he yells and moves to try and stop it but Gerard has already buried a stake in Graham's chest. Graham's scream only lasts a second before it chokes off, and he convulses twice before he stills.

Everyone starts talking at once. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Patrick yells, throwing the empty glass to the side, his face contorted with rage. "You just--" as Joe says "What the fuck?" staring at the body with his eyes wide, as Frank says "Thanks, Gerard--"

Pete grabs Gerard's arm, wrenching it away from the body and twisting his wrist until Gerard yells and drops the stake, turning furiously towards Pete.

"You were going to do that all along," Pete says, staring at Gerard. "All of that stuff Brian said, that was bullshit from the beginning." When Pete looks over at Brian, Brian looks sad and tired, but not surprised.

"You shouldn't have done that," Patrick says, livid. "We could have used him, we could have found out more, you didn't have to--"

"You're fucking wrong, of course we had to," Gerard says. The rest of his team is quiet, they all look uncomfortable, but none of them contradict him. They agree, they fucking agree, they don't see anything wrong with Gerard disposing of Graham the second they got what they needed.

"I can't believe you," Pete hears himself saying. "I can't believe you, I can't believe the way you did that, I can't believe--"

"What did you think was going to happen?" Gerard says, looking nowhere but at Pete's face. "That we really would keep him? Rehabilitate him? Magically turn him good with Patrick's special potion? He's not a person, he's a disease, he's one of them."

Pete can see Gerard regret what he's saying the second the words leave his mouth, but he doesn't care. He lets go of Gerard's arm and turns away and walks out of the office, jerking violently away when Gerard tries to catch his hand.

"I didn't--" Gerard says when he catches up to Pete, vainly trying to grab his shoulder again. "I didn't mean you, I didn't--"

"Fuck off," Pete says. "I heard what you said. The way you think."

"You have to believe me," Gerard says, succeeding in getting himself in front of Pete and blocking his path with his hands on his hips, stubborn. "You're right, okay, you're right about the way I think. I can't--I'm not going to deny that, maybe it is fucked up. But you're not part of that, Pete, you have to believe me, you're not--" he shuts his mouth, his eyes beseeching and remorseful.

"I'm an exception?" Pete says. "Great. Fantastic. You've managed to think of me as something remotely human, that's awesome."

"That's not it at all," Gerard says miserably. "I killed that vampire--him, Graham--I killed him because it had to be done. He's the enemy, he is not you. You don't understand because you haven't been here, you haven't seen--"

"Don't you tell me that I haven't seen how evil they are or some bullshit like that, don't you fucking--"

"You hate a few of them!" Gerard yells back. "You want revenge on a specific few that did you wrong across the country, you want them personally, you don't understand the big picture! You weren't here when they took over everything in a matter of months, they didn't destroy your home, your city, your family--"

Gerard stops as sudden as if someone pressed mute, his mouth clicking shut. He looks like he's not even breathing.

"I know what happened to your brother," Pete says after a few moments. "But it's warped you, Gerard, you can't. That was--that was inhuman, what you just did."

Gerard glances at Pete and then away. "Probably," he says with a shrug. "But I'm in love with you, for what that's worth."

Pete leans back against the wall, the wind knocked out of him. Gerard is still looking away, and the righteous anger seems to have drained away, leaving him looking small and sad.

"I love you, too," Pete manages. "So it's worth. It's worth a lot."

"Fuck," Gerard mutters, but he turns back around to look at Pete, bracing a hand on the wall behind him and leaning in close. "I'm sorry that I'm so fucked. That this is the way it is."

"I'm not," Pete says. "I'm not sorry. I'll take this and you over anything else."

Gerard laughs a little bit before kissing Pete, a soft quick kiss on the lips like he's afraid Pete's still mad. Pete knows that he should be, but he pulls Gerard in closer and has already mostly forgotten.

***

"Stop fussing," Gerard says, catching Pete's hand when he tries again to examine the purpling bruises spread across Gerard's ribs. "I told you, it's fine."

"You got thrown into a wall," Pete says. "You should at least have this taped up."

"My ribs are fine. It looks a lot worse than it is--really," Gerard insists when Pete snorts. "I'm not made of glass."

"You're a human fighting things that aren't," Pete says. "You might as well be."

Gerard laughs and rolls them until he's on top of Pete, his legs straddling Pete's waist. "I've been doing this for years longer than you have, rookie," he says, dropping kisses along Pete's jaw, clearly trying to remind him that they're in bed. "Don't worry about *me.*"

"You've come thisclose to dying, like, eight times just since I've known you," Pete says, scowling. "You act like it'll never happen, but your body won't just bounce back from everything the way mine will."

"I expect it to happen every time I wake up, actually," Gerard says, serious. Pete stares at him, feeling something hot and knotted try to crawl up his throat, before Gerard's lips twitch and he cracks up, laughing.

"Oh, fuck you," Pete says, rolling his eyes and shoving him. "Fuck you, Obi-Wan."

"Sorry," Gerard says, still laughing. "Pete, come on, I know the risks. Better than you do, probably, and don't pretend that you're invincible and the only one having to worry."

Pete rolls on top of him. "I am invincible. I'm fucking immortal, bitch." He leans down to bite lightly at Gerard's jaw, rubbing his nose in Gerard's hair.

"Uh-huh," Gerard says. "A splinter in the right place could kill you, man."

"Please tell me you don't spend too much time thinking about that, you morbid little shit," Pete says, groaning.

"I'm not thinking about it right now," Gerard says, his hands sliding up Pete's shirt and pressing against Pete's nipples, and Pete stops thinking about it, too.

Afterwards, Pete stretches out on his back, hands above his head, knuckles resting against the wall. Gerard is sitting up, taking deep drags from his cigarette and resting his fingers in Pete's hair.

"You're a vampire, and you're good," Gerard says suddenly. "I mean, you have morals, you manage to be a better human being than I do most of the time." He breathes smoke out his nostrils and looks at Pete, Pete looking quizzically back.

"Uh, yeah," Pete says when Gerard doesn't elaborate. "That's me. Have you... just now realized this?"

Gerard inhales deeply, lips wrapping tight around the cigarette. "No, but. I mean. If you can manage to be this good, then that means it's possible. That means others can. Mikey could've, maybe."

Pete sits up. Gerard has put out his cigarette and isn't looking at him. "When your brother woke up as a vampire, was he--did he seem evil? Was he killing people, or trying to?"

"There was this little girl that used to hang out in our neighborhood, I think she had a--a mental disability of some kind," Gerard says, his face darkening. "Yeah, he was."

"Then no, he couldn't have," Pete says, swallowing the bitter taste of the words. "Most vampires, when they wake up they're a new person. They don't remember who they were before. It's like what you said when you met me: it's automatic, it's like flipping a switch. They're just predators, nothing more."

"But you--"

"I'm unnatural, yeah," Pete says. "Sometimes the ones that remember their humanity like me come along. They usually die pretty quick, either by suicide or getting picked off by other vampires. But if Mikey was already--he wasn't like me."

Gerard makes a choked sound that almost sounds like a laugh, and stubs out his cigarette. "But there could've been a chance. The stuff you drink, I could have found that, I could have kept him from hurting people. Something."

Pete doesn't know what to say, so he stays quiet. After a moment, Gerard turns to look at him.

"It happened to him before most people around here even knew vampires existed," he says. "When they were still trying to stay underground. We didn't realize what it was that killed him, we thought it was just--just a random stabbing. That maybe he'd gotten involved with the wrong people."

Pete rests his head on Gerard's shoulder and listens.

"His body disappeared before the funeral. We thought it was, like--some kind of fucked-up body-snatching thing, I don't even know. Mom and Dad were so fucking upset, they couldn't even deal, Helena was the one talking to the police, getting an investigation going. I just took off with Frank, driving around town, it was this--this complete accident that we saw him, walking around."

Gerard reaches for his pack of cigarettes, fishing clumsily for another one and lighting it, taking a deep drag. Pete wants to tell him that he doesn't have to talk about this, he has nothing to confess, but he doesn't think it'll do any good.

"He was with a few others, and it wasn't, you know, it wasn't the first time we'd seen vampires, Frank and I. Frank had been attacked by them in a group of his friends, he escaped somehow, he's never talked to me about that. So we--we knew what they are, a little bit about how to fight them.

"It was just Frankie and me, none of the others were there. We got him cornered in this--this random fucking shed on the corner of some field--I was the one who lit the fire, I was the one--"

"Quiet," Pete murmurs when Gerard doesn't go on. He takes the cigarette out of his hand and puts it out, then kisses Gerard's mouth.

"You did the right thing," he says. "You did what you had to."

"Fuck you," Gerard says, wiping angrily at his eyes. "It wasn't the right thing. It's not the right thing. It could have been different."

Pete rubs his thumb along Gerard's jaw and presses his lips together. "Thanks for telling me," he says, finally. Gerard's mouth twists.

***

The day before Valentine's Day, Frank gets sick. Pete barely notices at first, it's just Frank coughing a little as the two of them were on their way back to their patrol, and it's winter. Pete spent most of last January with a hacking cough, and he finds that he keeps expecting his body to catch something this year, but of course, well. That's not going to happen.

But when they get back to the school and meet Bob and Frank sneezes, Bob's smile immediately disappears. "Frank," he says.

"It's nothing!"

"Frankie. Come on, fuck, are you serious?" Bob sounds really worried, and he's squeezing Frank's shoulder. Frank looks pissed.

"Let's get you to Brian, we should take your temperature," Bob says, pulling on Frank's arm and ignoring his defiant "I'm fine!"s.

They find that Frank has a temperature of 101 and rising. Gerard goes out on a quest for tea and soup and tylenol, Brian and Bob and Ray stand talking with their heads close together, and Frank sits with a blanket around his shoulder and the thermometer still sticking out of his mouth, looking mutinous.

"Frank doesn't really get colds," Ray explains when Pete asks why they're all so serious about this. "He gets, like."

"Pneumonia," Bob says, scowling. "I'll bet you anything it's the pneumonia coming back."

"Walking pneumonia!" Frank says indignantly before getting taken over by a coughing fit. "Walking pneumonia, which means I don't need bed rest or anything."

"Go to hell," Bob says. "You've probably had that cough for a few days and just haven't told anyone."

"I started coughing this morning," Frank says. "Look, it's not like I tried to get sick, okay?"

"Whatever," Bob says, walking out of the office and pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket without looking at Frank.

"Frank almost died the last time he had pneumonia," Brian mutters to Pete, explaining.

Gerard is just as concerned as Bob, and they all seem to be treating Frank's illness like it's as much of a threat to his life as vampires. The next day, when Frank is too weak to stand up for more than ten minutes at a time, Pete can see why.

"You've got to keep drinking your fluids!" Bob says, voice high when Frank snaps at him, and Gerard touches Pete's elbow and nods his head towards the door. Neither Frank nor Bob, both their voices rising, notice when Pete and Gerard leave.

"Frank will be fine," Gerard says when they get outside, stomping his feet in the cold. Pete can see his breath. "Frank has the shittiest immune system known to man, but he's a stubborn fuck. Bob freaks out like this every time, though.

"And I guess it's pretty shitty timing this year, too," Gerard adds, looking out at the soccer field. "On a holiday, and all."

It takes Pete a second to remember, and he blinks. "Oh. Right."

Gerard smiles, and Pete looks out at the field as well. "I didn't get you flowers," Gerard says.

"What about chocolate?"

"No chocolate, either."

"You suck," Pete says, taking Gerard's hand. Gerard is wearing fuzzy winter gloves, the black kind with bones on them. He's got a scarf on, too.

"You're not cold at all?" Gerard says, looking at Pete.

Pete just has his hoodie. "Nope. I never get all that cold."

"Of course not, right," Gerard says, but he's still smiling. He squeezes Pete's hand.

For a while Frankie gets pretty bad, but he passes through the worst part of the pneumonia and gets better, to everyone's giant relief. Bob and Brian both forbid him to get up out of bed for at least a week after the illness has passed.

Pete waits for Brian and Gerard to announce what they're going to do with Graham's information, some kind of plan of action or brilliant way to get at Gabe at last, but that seems to have been put on the backburner. They're kept on their toes by more drive-bys, which Maja's people in particular seem really fond of, surprising them all over town. Gerard gets grazed by bullets twice, once on his arm and once, terrifyingly, on the back of his head.

"Relax," Gerard says, rolling his eyes at Pete, face down while Brian cleans the wound. "It's like, a scratch. I don't even need stitches."

"Go to hell," Pete says, watching Brian's fingers. "A fucking scratch. You came a hair away from getting shot in the head."

Gerard just shrugs, and Pete hates him for a moment.

***

Pete wakes up feeling good. He's awake immediately, eyes snapping open and his mind perfectly clear, and he's hungry.

Heartbeat and blood. Gerard, beside him and he moves, rolling easily to pin the human and grab its hair, push its head back and the neck right there, beat beat beat--

His teeth graze skin and then it moves, jerks and yells and it's pushing at him, prey trying to escape, no he wants he needs. Right there if he could just taste it, take it.

He snarls and pushes down, snaps in but Gerard is fighting, lashing out and twisting his head away and knee in his gut, knocking the wind out of him and pushing him off. Pete fights and grabs and wants but Gerard is strong, almost as strong as him and suddenly he can't see, can't--sheet over his eyes--

A bedsheet yanked over his head and by the time he untangles himself Gerard is on him, fists to his jaw and stomach so fast that he stumbles back, can't fight back enough, can't concentrate it was right there, he's so hungry--

Gerard is behind him, Pete tries to turn around but Gerard has him, his arms yanked back, hurting his shoulders, and Pete can hear smell taste his heartbeat it's so close. So. His head twists and his teeth snap but he can't get him, he's hungry, he's shaking.

"Fuck, fuck, no," he hears behind him and he screams with hunger. "No, fuck--"

He hears running footsteps and another heartbeat and human smell and Patrick appears in the doorway, flushed all blood in his face, "Hey! Hey, let him go, what are you--"

Patrick takes a step forward and Pete lunges, ecstatic because he can already taste the veins already feel flesh tearing in his teeth it's so close, and his prey won't get away this time it's feebly stumbling back--

He's yanked backwards and he feels his shoulder pop, dislocating, and the pain distracts a second from the hunger. Gerard still has him, shaking him hard now, and Pete twists and yells. He's starving.

"Oh my god," Patrick says, and his veins are blue beneath his skin. Pete can see the big one in his throat, the beating is so loud in his head, and he sobs a little as he strains.

"What did you do to him?" Patrick says, and Pete can smell the anger on him as he looks at Gerard.

"Fucking nothing," Gerard spits, yanking Pete back again as Pete struggles. "When I woke up he was about to bite my neck."

Two others run into the room, Frank and Bob, they would both taste so good. "What the *fuck?*" says Frank and then Brian is there, and Andy and Pete and he can smell hear them all and there's so much blood in the room that Pete feels like he's dissolving, knows he'll die if he can't have any of them right now, now, and Gerard's hand wraps around his throat, squeezes when he yells again.

"If someone could help me that would be awesome!" Gerard yells. "We need to get him tied up or--fuck!" Pete manages to twist his head down enough and he can smell blood right there in Gerard's finger and it spurts into his mouth, wonderful, exactly what he needs. The relief of it, of even just a tiny taste, almost makes him cry.

Gerard lets go and then they're all on him, all this blood and Pete twists and snarls trying to get at any of them but they're all holding him down, slamming him to the ground this time, someone holding his face to the floor. He can smell dirt and blood and dead skin particles and blood and he licks his lips again and again, trying to get it all.

"Shit," Gerard says, panting, and Frank says, "Christ, he didn't bite it off, did he?"

"We need to figure out what this is," one of them, Brian, says and Frank feels his face pressed harder against the floor. "Figure out why the hell this is happening, he can't have just suddenly--can he?"

"No!" Gerard says, as Patrick says "Fuck you, no, he's not suddenly anything, he's still himself, okay? Fuck you."

"Then what the hell's going on?" Bob says, Bob, Bob is the one holding his face down. Pete licks his lips again, even though he can barely taste the blood there and he needs more.

"Someone should get that stuff he drinks," Ray says, and Pete hears someone run out of the room--Andy, Andy is the one he can't smell anymore, the others are all still here, still available. He licks his lips and sucks at the air and his vision is blurring. There's so much human blood right here, so much and he can't.

"Did anything happen to him last night?" Brian is saying. "Did he--do or say anything, anything unusual?"

"Nothing. Nothing, Brian, stop looking at me like that! Yesterday was completely normal."

"Then is there something about today?" Brian says. "Has he mentioned anything about today? Gerard, Patrick--"

"Today," Joe says suddenly. "Shit, I remember, today's the last day of February."

"And?" Gerard says at the same time that Patrick says "Oh, fuck. Oh my god."

"He disappeared a year ago today," Joe says. "I mean, he went off with William. That must have--it must have been when he got bit. It's been a year."

"And?" says Bob. "Is this him celebrating the anniversary or something? Gerard, why didn't you just get him flowers?"

Running footsteps another heartbeat and Andy's back, and Pete can smell something unfamiliar. "Here," Andy says, and then Pete feels someone yank him up to a sitting position, and before he can struggle there's liquid being poured, forced down his throat. He chokes and tries to turn away, but they're holding his head in place.

"Did it work?" someone says, Joe, and they're all staring at Pete. The hunger has faded slightly, enough that he isn't screaming with it, but it's still. There's so much blood in this room.

The hold on his shoulders loosens slightly and he lunges forward, almost escapes before he's thrown back to the ground. A whimper catches in his throat and he feels something cold, metal, click around both his wrists.

"Patrick, you've still got your books, right?" Brian says.

"Yeah, I--yeah."

"Then come on. Let's put our heads together and figure out what this is about."

"Someone should--" Ray says, and Gerard says "I'll stay here with him. I'll take care of it if he gets loose."

"Not just you," Bob says, his fingers clamped down on Pete's neck. Pete can smell his sweat, he wants-- "There needs to be more than one person here, what if he overpowers you?"

"The rest of you can stay out in the hall in case he gets past me," Gerard says. "Or if you hear us fighting."

"Fuck that," Bob says. "We need to be in here--"

"He's fucking naked, Bob!" Gerard yells. "Can you just--just. Give us some privacy."

Bob doesn't move. "You'll--"

"I'll do whatever I have to. You don't have to ask."

Pete twists his hands inside the metal, and it hurts, digs into his skin. He's yanked suddenly to his feet, and he struggles but there are four humans holding him, dragging him to radiator, chaining him there, he's trapped--

The others leave, so many heartbeats, and it's just Gerard across the room. Pete can smell him, still almost taste him, he remembers perfectly the feel of Gerard's skin almost against his lips, his teeth. He stares at the vein there, the one he almost had.

Gerard sits in a chair with a stake in his lap, staring right back. "You're going to bite me if I try and put pants on you, right?"

Pete stares.

"Fuck," Gerard says. "Fuck, Pete, fuck." He leans his elbows on his knees and buries his face in his arms, the movement sudden and muffled. Pete moves, tries to yank and twist away, and Gerard is immediately standing there, wooden stake at Pete's chest.

"Don't," Gerard says through clenched teeth. Pete bares his fangs, but he knows what wood means, he knows. He doesn't move.

***

"And if that mocking bird don't sing," William croons, his fingers brushing Pete's hair back from his face. "Daddy's gonna buy you a diamond ring. And if that diamond ring turns brass...."

Pete closes his eyes, turns into the touch, and listens. William has such a nice voice; it's lovely, it's soothing, and Pete wants to stay here and lie in his arms and listen forever.

"Ooooh, you make me live!" There's another voice, another pair of hands, drowning out William's, singing Queen. "Whatever this world can give to me, it's yoooou, you're all I see!"

William snarls and his voice turns nasty, a shriek, pushing Gerard away and off a ledge. "And if that looking glass gets broke," he sings, louder and more shrill, drowning out You're My Best Friend. "Daddy's gonna buy you a billy goat! And if that billy goat won't pull--"

Gerard grabs hold of Pete before he falls, dragging Pete out of William's lap, and Pete cries out because no, he doesn't want--

Pete wakes up slowly, groggily, like he's clawing his way up through fog and molasses. His eyes blink open and they feel gummy; there's a slightly nauseous feeling in his stomach and his head hurts.

He tries to move, but his hands are tied--tied to a radiator?

"Pete?"

Gerard is across the room, Pete can hear his heart and the caution in his voice and smell the fear on him, and he remembers what happened last night.

"Oh my god," he says, gagging, he wants to throw up, he wants to heave up his whole insides.

"You're back?" Gerard asks, his voice still hard.

"Fuck," Pete says. "Fuck, fuck, I can't believe that happened, I can't believe I." He almost killed Gerard. He almost killed Gerard and Patrick.

Gerard is crossing the room and Pete scrambles back away from him as much as he can, he has to keep away, he can't let Gerard, "Stay away--"

"Here," Gerard says, and there's a large glass of the blend Pete needs in his hand. He puts it to Pete's lips and Pete drinks, tips the whole thing back, tries to drown himself in it.

"Thank you," Pete says, his voice dull. "Now get the fuck away from me."

"You're back to yourself," Gerard says. "You're back to normal--"

"Get away," Pete snarls, pushing himself away from Gerard's hands. "I'm not safe! Get--go back across the room, get someone else in here to stand guard!"

"Shut up," Gerard says calmly. "You've clearly come back to yourself and are no longer a danger, so I'm not going to keep you chained up like some rabid dog."

"No--" Pete tries to kick Gerard away when Gerard gets the key out, but Gerard unlocks the manacles and drags Pete up to his feet. Pete stumbles back, covers his face, drags his hands through his hair. He is back, back to himself, he's not--he's not whatever the fuck that was that went through him yesterday, or maybe that was really him and this is an act--

"Patrick and Brian figured it out," Gerard says. "It's a physiological trigger that takes vampires back to their base instincts on the anniversary of when they were born---born as vampires, I mean. It's mostly unknown because most vampires are little more than their most base instincts--they might register feeling a little extra vicious or hungry, but that's it."

Pete crouches, drops his head in between his knees and covers his face. It's temporary. "It's temporary?"

"Temporary and nothing you could possibly control, yes. You had no way of knowing this would happen--"

"I'm going to lock myself back up," Pete says, springing to his feet. "I'm not taking the risk."

"Come on, don't be ridiculous," Gerard says with a frown. "The others all agreed that I should immediately let you free if you were back to yourself when you woke up, you're not a danger anymore--"

"No," Pete says, shaking his head. "That's such a lie--"

"You feel fine, don't you? Normal? Like yourself?"

"That's not the point," Pete says. "Give me the cuffs."

"No," Gerard says. He tosses them across the room to clatter against the wall, and grabs Pete's arm when Pete goes to pick them up. Gerard pulls him in roughly, kissing Pete's mouth, and grabbing his other shoulder, holding him.

"Mmph--" Pete pulls away, stumbling back. "Gerard, I can't, I have to."

"I'm not worried," Gerard says firmly, sliding a hand through Pete's hair and kissing his lips again, softly this time, over and over.

"That was the most terrified I've ever been last night," he says, voice quiet. "I thought I'd lost who you are, lost you for good."

"I tried to kill you," Pete mumbles back. "I can't let that happen again. Can't take the risk."

"It won't happen again!" His kisses are fiercer now, lingering, and he's walking them both back towards the bed. "This isn't a risk, I'm not afraid right now, we're okay, we're fine--"

"No--Gerard--" Pete tries to say, but Gerard cuts off every word with his mouth and they tumble onto the mattress on the floor, Gerard running his hands all over Pete's body, kissing his way down Pete's face.

"Want you," Gerard murmurs. "I want this now, I need to just--"

"Fuck," Pete says, grabbing Gerard's hand and stopping its wanderings. "No, Gerard--listen--"

"Please," Gerard says, raw anguish in his voice and he kisses Pete's neck--

"No!" Pete yells and shoves Gerard away, uses all his strength and Gerard is thrown into the wall with a crash. "You can't fuck this out of me!"

Gerard stares at him, hair in his face, mouth open. He looks stunned.

"I'm a fucking monster!" Pete yells, up on his knees and furious. "That's what I showed you last night, you said it, those are my base instincts. That's what I am, the rest of this is just, just icing, just pretty decorations on the surface."

"I don't believe that," Gerard says, getting to his feet and shaking his head. "That isn't true."

"It is and you know it. It's nothing you can change, Gerard. You can't fuck this out of me or make it go away with 'I love you's." Pete can hear the harshness of his own voice, hear how loud he's getting and he doesn't stop. "I remember everything I felt yesterday! I remember wanting to eat you, I remember that you were nothing to me but a fucking meal! Why the fuck didn't you kill me the second I woke up?!"

"Why didn't I--" Gerard stops, horrified, his jaw working.

"You sleep with a fucking stake under your pillow!" Pete roars. "I thought I could trust you, I thought you could kill me, I wish you fucking had!"

Gerard steps back like Pete's words were a whip in the air, lashing out across his skin. He stares. Pete stares back, his lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl, daring Gerard to say anything that could possibly prove Pete wrong.

"Is that all this is for you?" Gerard says, quietly, finally. "Some kind of--suicide wish?"

"No," Pete says immediately, feeling all his anger drain away and leaving him weak. "No. Of course not. I."

Gerard keeps staring and doesn't take a step closer.

Pete scrubs his palms over his face. He wishes he'd never woken up. "It's not," he says again, muffled through his hands. "I just--I remember what that was like, wanting to kill you. If something had happened, if I--"

"Nothing happened," Gerard says. "I fought you off."

"But what if you can't next time?" Pete says, taking his hands away to glare at Gerard. "You said you were terrified of losing me, well. What if I woke up this morning and found that I'd lost you because I'd killed you? Or Patrick, or Joe, or any of us. I couldn't live with that, I can't live with the possibility of that."

Gerard looks at him, then crosses to the mattress and kneels in front of Pete, taking his hand. "I will do whatever I have to to protect others from you if it ever comes to that."

"And what about yourself?" Pete says, scowling.

"And to protect myself from you," Gerard adds, his mouth in a tight line. "I promise, okay? I won't ever let you hurt anyone."

Pete swallows hard. "Thank you," he says, because anything else would seem--he has no idea what else he'd say.

"Fuck you for making me promise it," Gerard says, glaring. "Is this the reason you're in my bed every night, because I sleep with a stake under my pillow?"

Pete makes himself meet Gerard's eyes. "Part of it, maybe. I don't know."

Gerard laughs, and it isn't a nice sound. "Well, then you're out of luck. Because what happened yesterday isn't ever going to happen again, and I'm never going to have to make good on my promise."

Pete feels his heart pull. "I hope not. Gerard--I'm sorry."

Gerard is already shaking his head. "Forget it. It's not the only reason, right? Just--fuck, just give me that."

"I love you," Pete says. "No, it's not the only reason." He squeezes Gerard's hand and pulls him in, kisses Gerard's lips briefly before resting his head on Gerard's shoulder.

Gerard's hand wraps around his back, warm against his spine. "Good," Gerard says, kissing the back and side of Pete's neck. "Good."

*

Music: The Taste of Ink by The Used (title song), Breathe Me by Sia, It's Been A While by Staind, and The Great Gig In The Sky by London Philharmonic Orchestra covering Pink Floyd.