Fight Our Way Free By Tooth and By Claw: gift for northernveil

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Title: Fight Our Way Free By Tooth and By Claw
Author: quarterturn
Pairing(s): Brendon/Spencer
Rating: R
Warnings: Minor character death, some violence and a small amount of gore, hints of a D/s relationship, see end notes for spoilers regarding the character death and the story's villain if you like to know that sort of thing beforehand :D
Word count: ~10,000
Summary: Spencer's a vampire, and he's old enough to know just how badly it could go if anyone found out he's seeing a werewolf. Spoiler: Someone finds out.


“We have got to find a better place to meet,” Spencer says.

Brendon slips out from behind a rusted shipping container, just a black shadow in the dim light, unidentifiable except for his scent.

“I think it’s kinda awesome.” Brendon’s face comes into view and the smell gets stronger. “Midnight rendezvous in an abandoned warehouse. It’s like we’re in a spy movie. I pretend I’m James Bond, sometimes.”

Spencer snorts. “James Bond wouldn’t smell as bad as you do.”

Brendon feigns a pout and sidles up to Spencer, rubbing his cheek on Spencer’s shoulder. That smell isn’t going to come off, and Spencer’s going to have to burn his clothes. Which is why he brought an extra bag of clothing, because it wasn’t like he was planning on meeting up with Brendon and doing something ridiculous like not touch him.

But he keeps his hands in his pockets for the moment. Sometimes he likes to make Brendon work for it.

“You love the way I smell.”

Spencer’s ‘hmmm’ is noncommittal. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wrestle with those mutts right before we meet just so I’ll smell you a mile away.”

Brendon takes a step back, looking disapproving. “Don’t call them that.”

“Mutts?” Spencer reaches out to hook his fingers in Brendon’s belt loop, pulling him back. “I know what they call us. ‘Mutts’ isn’t that bad.”

“But I’m a mutt,” Brendon says quietly, and Spencer ignores the overwhelming smell of him to pull Brendon up tight against him. His blood sings at the contact, loud enough to drown out the baseline thoughts he’s worked hard to quash when Brendon’s around - fight, kill, enemy.

“My mutt,” Spencer whispers, and he knows well enough that that’s not the issue at hand here, that Brendon is looking for an apology, but he’s used up his lifetime supply of goodwill (and considering he’s immortal, that’s a big helping of goodwill) by sleeping with one werewolf - he doesn’t have any extra to spare for Brendon’s pack.

“Possessive, much?” Brendon sounds like he hates it, but his body presses closer to Spencer’s automatically, and he nuzzles up under Spencer’s chin.

“Very. Nice job changing the subject, by the way.”

Brendon pulls back enough to look up at Spencer with great big puppy dog eyes that Spencer hasn’t fallen for since, well. Since the last time they’d met up. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Mmm. So you didn’t roll around with at least...” Spencer leans in to sniff at Brendon’s hair, stomach churning. “Three other wolves right before you showed up?”

“Sometimes I’d like it if you just said my shampoo smelled nice or something. Maybe you can tell me what I had for breakfast, too.”

Spencer could tell him what he’d had for breakfast, but he opts for, “Don’t pretend you can’t tell me the exact same thing.”

Brendon makes a passable attempt at looking humble, but it crumbles pretty quickly and he leans in to press his nose against Spencer’s throat. “I could, but that’s pretty obvious, right? Blood. Duh.”

Brendon’s hair is soft under Spencer’s fingers when he strokes through it, tugging lightly. “Modesty isn’t your strong suit.”

“B positive,” Brendon mumbles, turning his head back and forth so that his lips drag over Spencer’s skin and his hair pulls in Spencer’s grip.

There’s nothing Spencer would like more than to fuck Brendon right at this very instant, but he’s not going to have sex in the middle of an abandoned warehouse, for God’s sake. He tugs Brendon’s hair a little harder. “You keep changing the subject.”

“Why does it matter? I’m around them all day so of course I’m going to smell like them. You smell like your family, too, you know. Every single one of them. It burns my nose. But I don’t start off the first time we’ve seen each other in a month by telling you you stink.” Brendon pulls away completely, crossing his arms and stalking a few feet away.

“Brendon,” Spencer says warningly. There’s something more going on here than just Brendon’s usual attempts to rile Spencer up with the scent of other werewolves, or humans, or god, that one time he came smelling like another vampire, Spencer had had to bite him that time, just to leave his mark thoroughly enough, and he couldn’t get the bitter, acrid taste of Brendon’s blood out of his mouth for weeks.

Brendon’s head drops to his chest. Usually that’s enough to get Spencer going, and he’d be over there stripping him and kissing him breathless. But there’s something else to his posture, a slight hunch, a general droop, and Spencer approaches him cautiously, slipping a hand around Brendon’s waist and tugging his back against Spencer’s chest.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s not good.”

“What with the enthusiasm and everything, that comes as a shock.”

Brendon spins around, glaring, and shoves Spencer away. “I’m serious, Spence.”

Spencer crosses his arms and puts on his Most Serious Face. “So tell me what’s going on.”

“Somebody knows.” Brendon slumps again, and Spencer goes completely rigid in counterpoint.

“Who? How do they know? Did they say something?”

“I don’t know who. I don’t know how. But I smell like three other wolves because I was in a room all day with them, getting questioned. They know something. I just don’t know how much.”

Brendon’s obvious anxiety makes Spencer’s seem unimportant, and he wraps his arms around Brendon, drawing slow, soothing circles against his back. “They must not know much if they let you leave. It’s probably just a random inspection, we have them sometimes, too.” Spencer doesn’t add that he’s usually the one doing the inspections, and he hopes for Brendon’s sake that the werewolf equivalent is more pleasant.

“I snuck out,” Brendon admits, resting his hands on Spencer’s hips, forehead pressed against Spencer’s shoulder. “And then I ran around for two hours downtown, pretending I was window shopping.”

“Do you think someone followed you?” Spencer’s ears are already pricked before he’s asked the question, listening for anything besides the quiet slap of the waves against the shore outside, the slight scratching of the rodents that infest the warehouse, the heavy, familiar sound of Brendon’s heartbeat. Brendon’s scent is heavy in Spencer’s nose, almost drowning out everything else. Under it, Spencer can smell his own family and the lingering scents of the humans he’d passed on the way here - especially Brent, who had caught him outside the mansion and wouldn’t take the hint when Spencer tried to brush him off.

But there’s nothing to indicate there’s someone else around now.

“I don’t think so. But Jesus, Spence, if someone tipped them off, what are we gonna do? We barely see each other as it is. I don’t think I can go longer than a month.”

Spencer reaches up to curl his hand around the back of Brendon’s neck, a tried and true way to calm him down. He suddenly wishes there was a similar method for himself, because the thought of having to go even longer between visits sends a thrill of panic through him. Brendon may be unsure about his ability to go longer than a month between meetings, but Spencer is positive about his own lack of control. He starts getting punchy around the two-week mark, and the one time they’d gone a month and two days, Spencer had picked a fight with William of all people.

“We’ll figure something out,” he promises, and despite the absolute lack of a plan, he can take comfort in the fact that he has yet to ever break a promise to Brendon. He’ll make sure this one stays intact, too.

--

“Out late tonight,” William drawls, catching Spencer in the lobby of the mansion.

Spencer brushes past him. “Not in the mood, Bill.”

William sniffs the air pointedly. “Could have fooled me. You seem very...in the mood.”

Spencer forces himself not to stop, not to engage. William could very well smell his unsatisfied arousal, even though Spencer had taken the entire walk home trying to will it away. He could have jerked off in the shower at his apartment, but that would have been even easier to smell. Not that it’s any of William’s business either way.

The room he uses at the mansion is sparsely decorated, and for once, he wishes there were books, or a TV, or anything to do to get his mind off the situation at hand. He’d sent Brendon home with platitudes and reassurances, but now that he doesn’t have Brendon’s anxiety bleeding onto him, his own is resurfacing.

They’d been so careful. Never meeting more than every few weeks and always on neutral territory. They’d devised complex routes to ensure no one was following them. If someone had seen them together, they’d either been very, very good at tracking or very, very lucky.

“Spencer?” There’s a knock on the door, and Spencer opens it without preamble. Normally he wouldn’t, not in the mood to entertain company, but it’s Zack, and no one turns Zack away. Spencer sort of wishes he’d been the first to break that unwritten rule, though, once he sees Zack’s face.

“Zack,” Spencer says pleasantly. “What can I do for you?”

“That Brent kid’s been hanging around again.” Zack doesn’t sound happy about it, but Spencer’s gut unclenches a little. He’d thought it might have something to do with Brendon.

“He’s very persistent.”

Zack snorts. “That’s one way to put it. He was talking to Gabe, you know.”

Spencer arches an eyebrow. “Persistent and stupid.” Gabe’s a good guy, but he’s not a big fan of humans.

“You’re gonna have to deal with him eventually. William’s getting annoyed.”

Spencer sighs. An annoyed William is not only a pain in the ass, but a dangerous pain in the ass. Spencer has been putting off dealing with Brent if only because he wasn’t entirely sure how to deal with him. But Brent’s been around since before Ryan left, and if only because of that tenuous connection, Spencer can’t let William loose on Brent.

“I’ll talk to him.”

“There’s one other thing,” Zack says, and he looks uncomfortable. Zack looks uncomfortable. Spencer’s stomach twists itself into even tighter knots than before. “Travis suggested a random sweep.”

If it hadn’t been for a hundred years worth of training himself to keep his reactions in check, Spencer would have given himself away in a second. Panic courses through him, guilt chasing after. They know. Or they know something. There’s no way Travis would order a random sweep the same night Brendon’s pack had done one. It’s far from random.

“All right. You want to start in the mansion and work our way out?”

Zack nods. “Almost everybody’s in for the day, and the ones that trickle in last minute we can get later.”

Spencer rebuttons his jacket and prepares for a sleepless day. The only comfort he can take in the sudden suspicion of his elders is the fact that if he’s still the one doing the questioning, they haven’t figured out too much. He can only hope it stays that way.

--

By the end of the day, Spencer is exhausted, hungry, and and far, far more panicked than he had been that morning.

Questioning the household had been enlightening, to say the least. The fledglings couldn’t lie to save their lives, and they’d been all too eager to pass along the rumors they’d heard to deflect suspicion off themselves.

The rumors had varied from alliances with the wolves to a full-scale war brewing, and they’d been interspersed with more rumors of a vampire fucking a werewolf than could be explained away by coincidence.

Zack meets him in the study just as the sun is setting, looking as exhausted as Spencer. “Any luck?”

“Just the usual. Nothing concrete. You?”

“Same.” Zack scrubs at his hair. “The young ones never know anything, though; we might catch something once we start in with the older ones.”

Spencer really, really hopes that’s not true, but he’s been doing this long enough to know Zack’s right. The fledglings that stay in the mansion have a rumor mill going that would rival a class of high schoolers. The older vampires, the ones that have long since moved out into their own homes, wouldn’t have bothered themselves with anything unfounded. It’s half the reason Spencer still spends half his time at the mansion - nine times out of ten the rumor mill was completely ridiculous, but every once in a while it provided a heads up to something Spencer wouldn’t have heard about until too late if he was keeping to the older crowd.

“I guess we might as well get it out of the way.” Spencer yearns for his bed and a meal, but if they put this off, they’ll have to wait another day to go out, and Travis isn’t breathing down their necks yet, but he will be if they don’t have something to report soon. At best, Spencer can hope they get a lead on some other clan killing inside their territory or one of their own going outside their lines. At worst, Spencer will get corroboration of his own relationship not being quite as secret as he’d hoped.

Zack heads to the north side of town and Spencer heads for the south. It’s an unspoken agreement between them, and has been ever since Ryan and Jon had moved into an apartment on the north side. It makes Spencer ache a little, in that frustratingly human way, to think about the fact that three years ago, Ryan would have been the one Spencer could go to with this situation. He’d have gotten more than a few eyerolls and at least one suggestion to just put Brendon down for everyone’s sake, but Ryan would have listened, and he wouldn’t have turned Spencer in, and he would have given his approximation of good advice.

But those days are long gone, and Spencer, tired and hungry and irritable, tells himself he’s better off. The less people that know about Brendon the better.

Pete’s house is garishly large, bigger than the mansion even, and Spencer was around for enough of the whole Pete/William debacle to know that the size is mostly to piss William off. He’s been around for enough of the aftermath of the debacle to know it works.

“Spencer, hey.” Patrick greets him at the door, even though Spencer had yet to knock. He knows Patrick’s human senses wouldn’t have been able to catch him, so he assumes Pete’s home. Or they’ve upgraded their security system. He can’t really blame them if they have - some of the vitriol William spews about them sounds distinctly like he’s just talking his way up to something.

“Hey. Pete home?”

Patrick nods, but he doesn’t open the door any further. “What’s this about?”

“Random sweep. Nothing to do with you guys.”

Patrick looks appeased and opens the door to usher Spencer inside. “He’s just downstairs, I’ll send him up.”

Spencer can smell the lingering scent of fear rolling off Patrick, and he sighs. Pete may trust Spencer not to be one of William’s lackeys, but Patrick doesn’t. Spencer’s not sure the tentative friendship he and Pete have managed to build will ever extend to Patrick. Just as well. William would probably rip out Spencer’s fangs if he thought Spencer was playing nice with Pete’s human. It’s taken all Spencer’s patience and favors just to convince William he only sees Pete when clan business requires it.

Pete arrives a few minutes later, smelling so strongly of the foul concoction he calls food that Spencer has to swallow down bile.

“Patrick said you’re doing a sweep?”

No pleasantries, then. Spencer’s glad. He has a long night ahead of him as it is. “Yeah. Heard anything?”

Pete doesn’t hesitate, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his hoodie. “Nope.” It’s the same answer he always gives, unless there really is a threat from outside clans, and even then it’s only because he worries about the human population of the city.

Spencer hesitates. He could say thanks and leave, like he normally would. No one’s going to be surprised that Pete was less than a font of information. But if he does know something about the rumors circulating, he’d be the only one who wouldn’t run to the elders with it.

Spencer tries his luck. “You haven’t heard anything about something going on between us and the wolves?”

Pete looks surprised, and then he carefully blanks his face of the reaction. But it’s too late, and Spencer presses. “Pete, come on. If there’s something going on, it’s going to be better for everyone if we find out what it is. Humans get caught up our wars, too, you know.”

“I haven’t heard anything about a war,” Pete hedges. “But what I have heard could lead to one.”

Spencer knows without pushing what Pete’s going to say.

“Who’d you hear it from?”

“So it’s true?” Pete gapes, and Spencer may be imagining things, but he thinks there’s a hint of amusement to it. “Fuck, dude, this is huge.”

Spencer shakes his head. This is getting away from him. “No, I didn’t say it was true. It’s just a rumor so far. Who’d you hear it from?”

Pete looks a little cagey, which means he’s been talking to someone from their clan. Spencer doesn’t even have to guess. Bebe had been a vocal sympathizer since day one, and the only reason William hadn’t killed her already was because Gabe was fond of her. It didn’t hurt that he was fond of Pete, too, and Spencer often suspects that the reason Pete is still walking and talking is because Gabe had intervened with William.

“Okay,” Spencer says. “You don’t have to tell me. Just tell me what you heard, exactly.”

Pete seems reassured by the lack of pressure to reveal his source, and when he starts telling Spencer what he heard, Spencer realizes that Pete had also really, really wanted to talk about it. Spencer doesn’t imagine Patrick has a whole lot of patience for vampire gossip, and since Spencer and Bebe are the only vampires Pete interacts with on a regular basis, he’d probably been bursting with the need to spread this around.

It’s as bad as Spencer had feared. Pete knows details - places Spencer and Brendon had met, a rough timeline of their meetings. He doesn’t know names, doesn’t even have a pool of suspects, but there’s enough information that if someone else had this information, someone who knew Spencer’s schedules even approximately, it would fit.

Spencer reigns in his panic and thanks Pete for the information, fends off a barrage of questions about the verity of the rumor, and leaves.

He doesn’t even need to visit anyone else now. If Pete - who has little contact with the rest of vampire society - knows this much, there’s no way no one else knows.

Except... Spencer’s blood pumps a little faster. Because Pete has little contact with the rest of the vampires, if he’d heard the details and hadn’t repeated them to anyone but Spencer, it might have stayed contained.

He just has to find Bebe and find out who she heard it from and who else she’s told. Spencer hadn’t interviewed her, so Zack must have, and Zack hadn’t reported back with any of the details Pete had.

It’s not a pleasant prospect. She’s young, but she plays things extremely close to the chest, and Spencer can’t use any of his usual tactics with a favorite of Gabe’s. He’d get his heart ripped out before he could even say “holy water.”

It’s nearly eleven and Spencer hasn’t eaten in two days. He can feel his skin tightening over his bones, becoming more brittle, and his focus is off, but he doesn’t have time to pick someone off right now. He swallows his hunger and uses his panic to fuel himself, heading back to the mansion and hoping Bebe’s still there and not out getting her own meal.

--

The mansion is in an uproar.

It’s only been an hour since Spencer left, but suddenly the place is packed, every light in the house on and shining brightly, leaving shadows of the people inside cast onto the lawn. Spencer stays outside for a moment, trying to tune in on the individual voices and not the white noise of a chorus of conversations. There’s no reason anyone should be home at this time of night - whatever’s going on is big, and Spencer’s not going in until he knows it’s not about him.

“All they said is that he’s missing,” Gabe says.

“Well they must have some reason to believe we’re behind it,” William snaps.

“They have the same reasons we would if one of us went missing,” Gabe says pointedly. “Bill, you didn’t-”

“I didn’t have anything to do with this. I’d hardly get my hands dirty with some mongrel,” William sneers.

Spencer revises his stance on staying outside - this is obviously about him, but they still don’t seem to know it, and they’re talking about a wolf. It could be any wolf, but something in Spencer says he knows exactly who they’re talking about.

He strides through the door, acting like he’d just arrived, but William casts him a knowing look. Well, he supposes he couldn’t expect to use his senses to eavesdrop without expecting them to catch him out for it.

“What’s going on?”

“A wolf’s gone missing,” Gabe says shortly, and William says under his breath, “Good riddance.”

Spencer’s hackles go up, but he just nods, acting like this is no big deal. His instinct is to contact Brendon and make sure he’s okay, but his whole goal is to keep under the radar, and he thinks calling Brendon from inside the mansion - which seems to be packed with every vampire in the entire clan - would sort of defeat that.

“What’s the commotion, then? It’s not our problem.”

“It sort of is,” Travis says from behind Spencer, and Spencer’s insides turn to jelly. He has a hard time just turning a little to acknowledge Travis’ presence, let alone answer him. Travis never comes to the mansion unless shit has hit the fan. His urge to call Brendon ratchets up, and he has to stick his hands in his pockets to hide the twitching. “They’re blaming us.”

Travis’ eyes are focused on Spencer, half-lidded and lazy, but there’s something sharp about them that makes Spencer feel like he’s expected to explain exactly why it is the wolves immediately leapt to the conclusion that the vampires have something to do with the disappearance of one of their pack.

“With the rumors flying around, that’s not a surprise,” Spencer manages to say. “If they’ve heard even half of them, they’d have a reason to be suspicious.”

“Have you found anything besides rumors?” Gabe has that same sharp look about him, and Spencer starts feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

“Nothing substantial. A lot of the same old stuff - we’re making alliances, we’re going to assassinate the alpha, someone’s lying down with dogs, you know.”

Travis gazes around the room, and Spencer can tell every time one of the clan feels that gaze on the back of their necks. The conversation starts to quiet down, like just the weight of Travis’ gaze has a calming influence.

“Too many ears in this room,” Travis finally says, voice pitched so low only their small group can hear it. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Spencer follows obediently, because to do otherwise would not only be rude, it’d be signing his own confession. He tries to still his jittery fingers, glad his heart isn’t beating, because it would be well on the way to a heart attack by now.

Once they’re safely sequestered away from the rest of the house, behind the lead walls of the elders’ study where no one can listen in, Travis drops the nonchalance and sinks heavily into an armchair.

“We have reason to believe one of our own is seeing a wolf on the sly,” he says.

Neither Gabe nor William look surprised by this revelation, and Spencer realizes he’s the only one here that’s supposed to be unaware. He schools his features into an adequate look of shock.

“Who?”

“We don’t know. A fledgling, maybe.”

“It better well be a fledgling,” William bites out. “Can you imagine the repercussions if anyone thinks differently? We’d be a laughing stock.”

Travis waves him off. “We’ve dealt with worse.” It’s an obvious reference to the failure that was Pete, and William looks like he wants to say something, but he - wisely, Spencer thinks - keeps his tongue in check.

“What kind of proof do you have?” Spencer asks, loathe to redirect the focus to himself, but if he’s in any danger here, he needs to know.

“A witness,” Gabe says, and Spencer’s stomach drops out. If he’d eaten anything recently, he’d be in real danger of it coming back up. “They won’t tell us who it is yet, but they seem to have a pretty believable story.” He pauses, glancing at Travis. “And the wolves confirmed they have their own suspicions.”

Spencer doesn’t have to affect a look of shock this time. “You’ve been talking to them?”

“We always talk to them,” Travis says, like it’s unimportant. “Probably where the rumors of alliances come from. But it’d be stupid not to. We don’t like each other, but we have common enemies.”

Spencer would like to believe he’s being let in on this because they trust him, but he can’t help the niggling doubt that they’re carefully constructing a trap with his name on it, lulling him into a false sense of security, or worse, that they’re not expecting him to live long enough to spread it around.

“So what are we going to do?” Spencer asks.

“Mandatory interrogation for everyone,” William answers immediately. “The old way. None of this tiptoeing around.”

Spencer nearly bolts for the door. He hasn’t been around long enough to have ever experienced the old interrogation techniques, but he knows what he does, and he’s been told it’s a gentler, kinder version of what they used to do. That’s enough to scare the shit out of him.

“Not yet.” Travis looks thoughtful. “If the wolves think we had something to do with this one disappearing, they must think he’s the one seeing a vampire. If we catch him first, we can interrogate him and kill two birds with one stone.”

Spencer has to leave, right now. He hadn’t been sure Brendon was the one that had gone missing, but after what he’d told Spencer the night before, it couldn’t be coincidence. If the clan get their hands on him... Spencer just has to leave.

But there’s no way to excuse himself politely in the middle of a strategy meeting. He has to stand there and look duly interested while he’s imagining Brendon tied up and tortured and killed.

“Won’t that cause more problems with the wolves?” Spencer asks, hoping the question isn’t as transparent as it feels.

“I don’t think so,” Travis muses. “If we get a name out of the wolf, we can take care of them both in public. I think that’ll square everything away. Right now they just think we’re letting someone in the clan walk away scot-free, and I doubt they’ll believe us if we say we don’t know who it is.”

“So why don’t we just let them get the name?” William asks, flippant. “They’ll take care of theirs and ours, less mess for us.”

“Because I like to take care of our problems in-house,” Travis says. His tone brooks no argument, and he doesn’t get one. “Spencer, put Zack and Ian on this. Make sure they know to bring him back alive.”

Spencer nods, glad for the excuse to leave.

As soon as he’s out of the room, he punches in Brendon’s number on his cell and takes the stairs two at a time, glancing around for Ian.

The phone rings, and rings, and rings and finally goes to voicemail. Spencer nearly crushes the phone in his hand. He spots Ian, waves him over, and instead of telling him to go start hunting Brendon, he puts him in charge of getting a hold of Zack.

“Call me when he’s back,” Spencer says as calmly as he can. “Both of you stay put until I get back.”

He can see the question in Ian’s expression, but luckily for Spencer, Ian is younger than him by a good ten years and Spencer has no obligation to explain anything about his orders. He just has to expect they’ll be followed.

Spencer keeps his pace measured as he walks out of the mansion. He keeps it steady until he turns the corner, and then he breaks into a run, dialing Brendon again.

“Answer your goddamn phone.” The rings are cut off by Brendon’s voicemail again, and Spencer picks up his pace. He’s probably going a little too fast, but it’s dark and this neighborhood is pretty much vampire-owned, anyway. Once he gets downtown, he’s forced to slow down, ducking between pedestrians and trying not to let the scent of fresh blood overwhelm him. It’s hard enough when he has a full stomach; he’s running on fumes, and the only thing keeping him from attacking someone in the middle of the sidewalk is the thought that Brendon is out here somewhere, alone and being hunted by his own kind. And Spencer’s kind, if someone in that meeting hadn’t trusted Spencer and had sent their own lackeys out as a backup.

The phone stays at Spencer’s ear; he just keeps pressing redial over and over as he stalks through the streets. There shouldn’t be this many people out this late, but it’s almost Christmas, and humans have an annoying tendency to cluster during the holidays.

“Spencer?”

Spencer stops on a dime and someone bumps into him from behind, but he doesn’t even spare them a glance, because Brendon is on the line.

“Brendon? Jesus Christ, where are you? Why weren’t you answering your phone? Are you okay?”

“Spence, they know. They know it’s me, I didn’t tell them, I swear, I don’t know how they knew but they know and they’re gonna kill me, Spencer.”

“Tell me where you are, Brendon, right now.” Spencer’s voice is hard, but he can’t make himself take the time to do this gently.

“The warehouse, I didn’t know where else to go, but Spencer, don’t come here. If they find me, you shouldn’t be here.” Brendon’s voice is high, shaky, and more than anything, Spencer wants to crawl through the phone and soothe those shakes away, keep Brendon safe and kill every single person - human, werewolf, vampire - who looks at him cross-eyed.

“Stay put.” There’s a small noise like Brendon’s going to protest, but Spencer’s already turning toward the street he needs, sprinting. “Don’t argue with me, Brendon! I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, and you will be there or so help me. You keep your ass in that building unless someone finds you.”

“Okay,” Brendon says quietly, and Spencer’s panic recedes slightly.

“Okay,” he repeats. “I’ll see you soon.”

Brendon hangs up first, and Spencer concentrates on not running fast enough to alarm anyone. He’s halfway to the warehouse before a familiar scent hits him, and he slows down, trying to place it. It’s human, so there aren’t many options.

“Spencer!”

Brent is waving at him from across the street, and Spencer clenches his jaw. He definitely does not have time for this right now, so he waves back and yells, “Got somewhere to be. I’ll catch you later, Brent.”

But Brent starts jogging across the street, and Spencer stops long enough for him to make it across so he can tell the kid to fuck off. He’s been avoiding him long enough that it shouldn’t come as any surprise to Brent - and he’s a human so it’s not like Spencer has any obligation to be nice. Except that tenuous connection he’s been forcing to the back of his mind every time Brent shows up - Brent had been Ryan’s, his friend, his pet, whatever, and Spencer doesn’t have it in him to kill him, not when the kid had taken Ryan’s rejection just as hard as Spencer. He adamantly refuses to believe he lets Brent hang around just because he’s the closest thing he has to Ryan now.

“Geez,” Brent huffs, once he’s up on the sidewalk. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for three blocks. Not all of us are vampires, you know. No super speed.”

Spencer growls, grabbing Brent by the lapels of his jacket and hauling him into the alley. “What the fuck are you doing? There are people around.”

Brent looks hurt, but Spencer’s mind is focused on Brendon sitting alone and vulnerable in a warehouse, so he doesn’t apologize.

“I just wanted to talk to you. You’ve been avoiding me.”

Spencer rolls his eyes and lets go of Brent’s jacket. “I don’t have time to talk, Brent, I have somewhere to be.”

Something cruel twists Brent’s lips. “Midnight rendezvous?”

If Spencer had a heartbeat, it would have stopped. Brent’s words are burned into his mind, superimposed over the same words, but out of Brendon’s mouth.

“What?”

“Your important place to be. Midnight rendezvous?”

Spencer fists the front of Brent’s jacket again and shoves him, hard, against the brick wall behind him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Brent’s eyes go wide and he looks genuinely shocked. “Spencer, what the fuck. I’m just playing. If you really have to go, go, Jesus. I’ll talk to you later.”

But Spencer isn’t placated. He shoves Brent again. “Why did you say that? Midnight rendezvous?”

“It’s just a saying, Jesus Christ, lay off. You’re losing it, man.”

Real fear is rolling off Brent in waves, and his eyes are white all the way around. Spencer drops him. He’s still not completely positive it had been a coincidence, but he’s willing to concede that he’s not exactly in the best frame of mind to be making judgment calls.

“Go home, Brent. I’ll come by in a few days.”

Brent edges past him quickly, not stopping until he reaches the end of the alley. “Yeah. Sure.”

Spencer doesn’t reassure him, and barely waits for Brent to turn his back before Spencer’s heading for the warehouse again, mind trying to make some connection between Brent and the phrase he’d used, but there’s no way Brent could know. Is there? His head’s too full right now to pursue it, so he focuses on running, on getting to Brendon.

He makes it to the warehouse in ten minutes and forces himself to scan the perimeter for anything other than Brendon’s scent. It takes longer than it should, his body not working at full capacity. He closes his eyes, struggling. He’s got the scent of human all over him from the crowds and Brent, and it’s hard to separate those strands from anything that might be hanging around the warehouse.

Finally, he’s reasonably sure they’re alone, so he heads inside.

Brendon is on him as soon as Spencer’s got one foot inside the door, pulling him all the way in and slamming the door shut.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Brendon says, but Spencer ignores it, reaching for Brendon instead. Brendon pulls away, wrapping his arms around himself. He’s still shaking, breath coming in short, shallow pants, and the smell of fear on him is so overwhelming it makes Spencer a little dizzy.

Spencer’s hands twitch again, but this time it’s from the overwhelming need to touch Brendon, to reassure him, to make sure he’s all right. He restrains himself, standing awkwardly near the door. He’ll give Brendon his space. For now. “What happened?”

“I got home last night and everybody was looking at me. Like they already knew. And then the alpha showed up and I knew something big was going on, and I figured it was just a matter of time before they had me in a collar. I said I was going for a run, and then I didn’t go back.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

Brendon shifts his weight, looking so uncomfortable Spencer nearly vibrates with the need to just pull him into a hug. “They don’t know it’s you.”

“What does that have to do with anything? Brendon, you should have called me the minute you were out of the house.”

Brendon shifts again. “Spence, they know I’m the wolf seeing a vampire, but they don’t know who the vampire is.” He looks at Spencer pointedly. “And I’d never tell them.”

Spencer blinks. “Are you...” He shakes his head, not sure if he’s touched or pissed off. “Are you seriously saying I should just go home and pretend none of this happened, leave you to take the blame?” When Brendon doesn’t answer, just keeps standing there looking small and afraid and resolute, Spencer takes a step forward. “They will kill you, Brendon, you realize that?”

Brendon lifts his chin. “I’ll run.”

“Is this what you want?” Spencer asks carefully, controlling himself so he won’t say I know what you want, better than you do, and I won’t let you do this.

“I think it’s for the best.” Brendon won’t look him in the eye, and Spencer isn’t satisfied with a half-hearted platitude.

“Best for who? Because it’s not the best thing for me.”

Brendon finally uncrosses his arm, leaning forward like he’s gathering all his force to put it behind his words. “They’ll kill you, Spencer! I’m trying to salvage something from this clusterfuck, don’t you get it? If they kill me, fine, whatever, but I’m not gonna let them hurt you.”

Spencer gives up on giving Brendon his space and strides over to him, grabbing his upper arms and shaking. “And you think I’d be okay with that? That I’d be able to live with myself if I just let them kill you while I walked away?”

“At least you’d be alive!” Brendon leans into his grip, face so close Spencer could just lean in an inch and kiss him. “It’s fucking stupid to get yourself killed, too, for nothing.”

“For everything,” Spencer growls, shaking Brendon again, and then he gives in and kisses him. Brendon’s lips are soft, dry, but his teeth come out and scrape against Spencer’s mouth, knock against his teeth, and Spencer revels in the violence of it. It’s only slightly less painful than their first kiss, when Brendon had Spencer pinned against the floor, Spencer grinning up at him, mocking him for the obvious scent of arousal leaking from him.

When Brendon pulls away, he leaves Spencer’s lip split and bleeding, and Spencer doesn’t bother to wipe it away. “I’m not going to let you die,” Brendon whispers.

“You might not have much choice,” a voice says, and they both spin around, Spencer’s teeth elongating, Brendon growling before they even seen who it is.

“Brent?” Spencer gapes. “What the fuck. Did you follow me?”

Brent shrugs. “You were in such a hurry, and I saw the direction you were headed. I put two and two together.”

Spencer’s head spins, and he belatedly realizes that he’d been so covered in Brent’s scent from before that he hadn’t smelled him arriving. He can only assume the scent on Spencer had confused Brendon’s nose, as well. And they’d been a little distracted.

“Wait, how did you know I’d come here? And what do you mean, he might not have much choice?” It’s too much to filter through, Spencer’s brain isn’t up to the challenge, not after two days without food or sleep, not while the scent of Brendon’s fear is still clouding everything, not while Spencer is still running on adrenaline and his panic is becoming uncomfortably familiar.

“You always meet here, seemed logical. And I think whether you live or die is probably going to be up to the rest of them.” A flood of new (old, familiar) scents come through the door seconds before their sources do.

Travis looks pissed and Gabe looks weirdly pale, drawn. The woman following them is unfamiliar to Spencer, but it’s pretty easy to tell she’s a wolf. She looks amused, and that, of all the varying expressions in the room, scares Spencer most of all.

“Had to see it for myself,” Travis says, and Spencer realizes he’s got his arm out across Brendon’s chest, keeping him half a step behind him, like there is any way in hell he could protect him against two elders and a werewolf that Spencer has a sneaking suspicion may be the alpha.

“Travis,” Spencer chokes out, but what else is he going to say? This isn’t what it looks like, I can explain, try something and I’ll rip your teeth out?

“Bill kept saying it was you,” Travis sighs.

Spencer swallows thickly, the full weight of the situation coming down on him. He’d betrayed his clan, his family. It still can’t overwhelm his feelings for Brendon, and he knows without a doubt he’d do it again, but the look of disappointment on Travis’ face sends a wave of crushing guilt over Spencer.

“Trav,” Gabe says, and his voice sounds raw, and at the same time, the woman comes up from behind them.

“Victoria,” Brendon whispers, and it sounds like he’s having a hard time keeping the pleading out of his voice.

“You’ve made a huge mess of things, you know that?” she asks.

Spencer waits, tensed, waiting for her to try and take Brendon, or for Gabe and Travis to come at Spencer, but nothing happens. Off to the side, Brent watches, smirking, and Spencer shoves aside his desire to rip that smirk right off his face.

“I suppose we’ll have to hide them for a while,” Victoria sighs, and Spencer’s whole world tilts.

“What?”

“Well, you certainly can’t go home, they’d tear you apart. You’ll have to leave town for a while. Maybe leave the continent for a while.”

Spencer gapes at her. Again he asks, “What?”

Travis takes a step forward and Spencer tenses even more, expecting an attack. But Travis just scrubs at his hair. “You know all those alliance rumors?”

Spencer nods.

“They’re kinda true. But no one knows yet, and it’s too early to let it out. We’d have a full-scale rebellion on our hands, from both sides. So you two need to scram, because the wolves already know about Brendon and there’s already enough suspicion on you to make things weird.”

Spencer holds up a hand, confusion making it hard to think straight, and the tiny spark of hope that’s taken up residence in his chest making everything even more confusing. “Wait. We’re allying with the wolves? Since when?”

“We’ve been in talks for a while,” Gabe admits, and a look passes between him and Victoria that makes Spencer very, very suspicious, but it’s gone before he can examine it. “Tonight almost ruined it.” He glances pointedly at Brendon.

“We thought they’d gone back on their word,” Victoria explains, mostly to Brendon. “We thought they’d taken you.”

“No, but...” Brendon finally speaks up, sounding like a twin spark of hope has taken up a spot in him. “The questioning, everybody was so upset. I thought you were going to kill me.”

Victoria laughs. “Sweet boy, do you really think I’d let anything happen to you? But you are a terrible liar. We knew it was you, we just needed to find out who it was you were seeing.”

Spencer’s fear is slowly thawing into anger. “So if there’s an alliance in the works, why the fuck did everybody make this out as the end of the world? I haven’t eaten in two days because I’ve been too busy chasing rumors,” he snarls, realizing it’s probably not the best tone to take with three people who could probably rip him limb from limb without breaking a sweat, but it’s too much, this is all just too fucking much after the couple of days he’s had.

“We would have been happy to let it sit,” Gabe says, voice edged with a warning that makes Spencer want to cower. “But somebody had proof and presented it to us and the wolves. We had no idea who else he told.” He doesn’t even look at Brent, but his focus is so obviously trained on the only human in the room that even Brent must feel it, taking a step away from them. “If the ranks got a hold of this before we could sanction it under the new alliance, they would have killed you both and we would have had no way of stopping it without announcing the alliance. There would have been chaos.”

It takes Spencer a long minute to drag his gaze away from Brent. He’s shaking, he’s so angry, so betrayed. Brent could have cost Spencer his life. He could have cost Brendon’s life.

“You could have killed him and squashed the rumors,” Spencer spits. “You didn’t have to let this go on.”

“We didn’t know who else he’d told,” Gabe repeats.

“So it had nothing to do with keeping people focused on this and not the rumors of an alliance?” Spencer is so angry he thinks he might actually have a fighting chance at taking them on, if it came down to it.

Gabe has the good grace to look at least a little bit embarrassed. Travis doesn’t share his sense of conscience, though. “It had a little bit to do with it. We weren’t gonna let anybody get hurt, though, Spencer, come on.”

“And we needed to pick Brendon up because?” Spencer asks, still eyeing Brent.

“We needed the name, one way or another. It was safer for us to pick him up first. If the wolves had gotten a hold of him, there’s no guarantee he would have made it home in one piece.” Travis looks tired, when Spencer looks back at him, completely drained, and suddenly Spencer realizes this hasn’t been easy on any of them. “If we’d known it was you,” Travis continues, “We would have just told you straight off. But without knowing who it was...”

“You couldn’t take the risk it wasn’t me and I’d shoot my mouth off,” Spencer finishes. “I get it.” And he does, he really does, but it’s not enough to erase the memory of Brendon’s fear. It’s not enough to make things all right.

There’s a break in the conversation, and even though Spencer isn’t worried about getting killed at this very moment, the tension is still through the roof.

“But...” Every eye turns to Brent, whose smirk is no longer present. He looks like he’s about to cry. “But you said-”

Travis cuts him off with a look. “We’re not real fond of humans. Especially humans that came real close to fucking up everything we’ve been working on.”

“You said you’d turn me,” Brent insists, and despite his utter loathing for Brent, Spencer wants to tell him to just shut his mouth if he wants to make it out of here alive. But Spencer already knows that’s not an option - Travis will kill him for what he knows, and if he doesn’t, Spencer will kill him for what he’d done.

“News flash,” Travis says, smiling in a very unkind way. “I lied.”

Brent turns to run but Travis is on him in an instant. He grips the back of Brent’s neck, keeping him place.

“Wait,” Spencer says, surprising himself. But Travis stops, and Spencer swallows. “Let me have him.”

“Gladly.” Travis shoves Brent and he stumbles, tripping over his own feet and ending up on his knees in front of Spencer.

“When you’re through, meet us at the airport. We’ll get you out of here.”

“I’ll handle it,” Spencer grits out. It’s not that he’s not grateful to them, he is. They could have killed him and Brendon both to keep the alliance quiet - as it is, they’re taking a big leap of faith by letting them go free and trusting them to keep it to themselves. But the terror of losing Brendon is still too fresh, the suspicion still not completely out of his system, and he has no desire to let them dictate his movements.

Travis arches an eyebrow, but he nods. “We’ll get a hold of you when it’s safe to come back.”

Spencer nods. He doesn’t bother mentioning that he plans on hiding Brendon so far away and so well that they won’t be able to find them to contact them. And that even if they could, Spencer’s not sure they’ll ever come back.

When they’re gone, Brendon sags against Spencer, shaking like he’s kept everything pent up too long and it’s overflowing.

Brent keeps his head down, staring at Spencer’s feet, and Spencer tries to reign in the anger, he gives it a valiant effort. But with Brendon shaking against him and the adrenaline still coursing through him, Spencer can’t make himself stop when he reaches down to haul Brent up, can’t make himself think it through before he sinks his teeth into Brent’s throat. The only thing he can do is keep from ripping Brent’s throat out - he keeps the bite precise, lets his fangs sink in deep and swallows down the blood in careful mouthfuls, despite the hunger gnawing at him.

When Brent’s heartbeat slows, the blood pumping sluggishly into Spencer’s mouth, Spencer stops. Brent sags to the floor, one hand fluttering up weakly to cover the wound.

“Why did you do this?” Spencer’s voice is a little slurred - the blood hitting his system is intoxicating, and he blames it for the way he doesn’t sound angry, or betrayed, just confused.

“Ryan...” Brent is gasping, and Spencer isn’t so old he doesn’t remember the feeling of being drained to the point of death, the terrifying, empty feeling of his body struggling to pump blood that just wasn’t there. “Ryan would never...turn me. I thought...you would. You let me hang around. You didn’t...just leave.”

The reminder of Ryan’s sudden decision to leave hits Spencer hard, dredging up feelings he’s been careful to keep buried. Watching Brent struggle to get the words out, Spencer realizes they’re in the same boat. Spencer just had a lot more practice at making the feelings go away. They must have eaten away at Brent for years, festering and spreading until he was so far gone he thought it was a good idea to throw his lot in with the elders.

“And then you met him.” Brent somehow manages to sneer even though he’s on the brink of death, glaring at Brendon. “And you didn’t have time for me anymore. I’ll call you later, Brent, I’ll come by later, Brent, I don’t have time right now, Brent.”

“So you thought you’d get what you wanted by telling them about us?” Spencer sighs, because he already knows it’s true. Travis would have promised Brent anything to get the information out of him. Maybe the wolves did, too.

Brent’s face, chalky white and quickly fading to gray, falls. “I didn’t tell them about him right away. And I didn’t tell them about you until tonight. They kept asking, but I wouldn’t tell them.”

Spencer narrows his eyes. “Why?”

Brent looks surprised at the question. “I didn’t get want you to get in trouble.”

“But you knew they’d kill Brendon?” Anger rears its head again and Spencer crouches down to grab Brent by the throat, pulling him up so Spencer can see his face. “And you thought I’d be grateful that you left me out of it?”

“I thought you’d get it over it!” Brent squirms, hands coming up to weakly pry at Spencer’s, starting to look as terrified as he should have from the beginning. “Once he was gone, you would’ve turned me and we could’ve gotten Ryan back and it would’ve gone back to the way it was!”

Just as fast as it had come, the anger recedes, and Spencer is left staring at Brent with nothing but pity. Ryan had left scars on both of them, but instead of moving on, Brent had wallowed in the rejection, had let it consume him. Death would be merciful at this point.

Instead of opening Brent’s throat and letting him bleed out the rest of the way, Spencer drags the sharp point of one fang over his own wrist until a thin line of blood appears. And then he shoves his wrist into Brent’s mouth and clamps his free hand around the back of Brent’s head, holding him in place.

Brent sucks at the wound greedily, and he turns his eyes toward Spencer’s gratefully, but Spencer isn’t doing him a favor. Brent will be a vampire, like he’s wanted for so long, but he will find no sanctuary with the clan in this city. Travis would have killed him if Spencer hadn’t intervened - he’s certainly not going to welcome him into the mansion.

And Travis has a long reach. Brent will have to go a very long way to find a clan willing to let him in. And he will have to do it on his own, a fledgling with no training, no protection and no friends. Even Pete wouldn’t have made it as long as he did without the few vampires who’d stayed loyal to him. Brent might live, he might die. Either way, it won’t be easy and it won’t be merciful.

When Brent’s taken enough, Spencer shoves him away and turns his back on him. Brendon is still there, watching with wide eyes, but to his credit he doesn’t say anything.

“Let’s go,” Spencer says, lacing his fingers with Brendon’s and tugging him out of the warehouse. “We’ve got a long trip.”

--

The plane is private, paid for with funds from one of Spencer’s many bank accounts. It’ll be traceable, but since the flight’s only taking them to London and Spencer has no intention of staying there, he doesn’t mind.

Brendon’s asleep in one of the seats, curled in on himself and covered with Spencer’s jackets. Spencer must keep his gaze on Brendon for too long, though, because Brendon blinks awake, tensed.

“Sorry,” Spencer says, but he’s not really, because he’s wide awake and Brent’s blood is thrumming in his veins, and he hasn’t had a good opportunity to put his hands on Brendon and reassure them both that he’s okay.

“S’ok.” Brendon slips out of his seat and relocates to a seat closer to Spencer, but Spencer shakes his head.

“Uh-uh. Here.” He pats his lap and Brendon sinks into it, smiling.

“I’m okay, you know.” But his arm goes around Spencer’s neck and he presses himself as close as he can get without actually crawling into Spencer’s skin, and Spencer can still feel the tension in Brendon’s muscles.

Spencer doesn’t comment on it, but he starts rubbing slow, soothing circles on Brendon’s back, and when Brendon sighs and drops his head to Spencer’s shoulder, Spencer uses a little more pressure, seeking out the knots and kneading them away.

“Feels good,” Brendon mumbles, and Spencer smiles, gently easing Brendon to the floor to sit in the vee of Spencer’s legs. Brendon goes without complaint, and Spencer rewards him by working on his shoulders, fingers and thumbs splaying out and digging in.

Brendon makes soft, happy noises, relaxing under Spencer’s hands, and Spencer can feel his own muscles following suit in response.

When Brendon can barely sit up on his own, Spencer nudges him out of the way and joins him on the floor, stretching Brendon out and then stretching out over top of him, stealing slow, lazy kisses.

“We’re not going back, are we?” Brendon asks, in between kisses. His eyes are half-lidded, sleepy, but the question is to the point.

Spencer moves down, pressing his lips against Brendon’s jaw, his throat, his collarbone. “Do you want to?”

“My whole family’s there,” Brendon says. “Everyone I grew up with. Everything I know.” Spencer hesitates, pausing just over the hollow in Brendon’s throat. Every instinct he has says they shouldn’t ever go back, and not just because of the possible threat, but because Spencer isn’t sure he’ll be able to fall back in line the way he’ll be expected to, which will only cause more problems. But if Brendon wants to, Spencer will find a way to make it work.

Brendon runs his fingers through Spencer’s hair. “No, I don’t want to go back.”

Spencer breathes out, heavily, and a rash of goosebumps appear on the skin just under his mouth. He concentrates on making them spread, very, very glad that the amount of money he’d paid for this flight guarantees privacy.

--

Author's notes: Brent is the bad guy in this, and he's also the one that dies. (Sort of!) I have nothing against Brent, I just needed a villain. No offense intended to any Brentwives that read this.

Huge thanks to my beta for looking this over at the very last minute. Any remaining mistakes are my own. Recipient, I hope you enjoy the fic! I really enjoyed your prompts and had a great time writing this. Happy holidays! ♥