Chapter Text
Tommy's hands clutched onto the worn fabric of Wilbur’s coat like his life depended on it, hugging it close to his chest as he did his best to choke back sobs. He wasn't… he wasn't going to be vulnerable here. He couldn't show them that, he couldn't .
His chest ached as he noticed the now dried blood stained the coat, the fabric torn by what Tommy knew were claws.
Wilbur hadn't come home yesterday, staying out far later than Tommy knew his closing shift required. At first he'd waited, assuming his brother was just taking some time to get home.
It pained him when Wilbur had to have late shifts, paranoia plaguing him every moment his brother wasn't home with him. The slums were always plagued with vampire attacks, the impoverished territory divided between several covens and loners.
Tommy had tried begging him before to stay, to not go out alone and allow himself to become another one of the bloodsucker's victims. Part of the statistic that filled anyone who went outside during the nighttime with a sense of dread. But both he and Wilbur knew they needed the money those extra shifts provided in order to stay afloat. What Tommy was asking of his brother was impossible.
Wilbur had promised Tommy he'd stay safe before he left, like he did every night before disappearing into the darkness of the streets, ready to risk his life so they could have a place to stay for the next few weeks. Tommy had always been wary of Wilbur going out alone in their vampire-infested streets, despite his brother's reassurances.
It was necessary, they needed the money Wilbur earned on those extra shifts to continue existing.
And it had gotten Wilbur killed.
Or.. worse. According to the Organization, Wilbur’s body hasn't been found.
The Organization, the guild meant to protect humanity from the constant looming threat of the bloodsuckers. Tommy almost scoffs at the thought. He'd never seen a hunter even step foot in the slums. Until Wilbur, of course. The slums become big news when the Syndicate is involved.
That's how Tommy found himself waiting outside the office of the Organization's head as Wilbur’s only real contact, cradling the only thing that had been found of his brother. The door leading to the office suddenly opened with a short creak, and Tommy figured that was his cue to step inside.
The office was an absolute mess, full of clutter and scattered papers. Tommy could see a collection of files stacked up high on the wooden desk that took up half the office. Mission reports, from what he could tell. It was hard to tell anything from the absolute chaos that reigned supreme in the tiny office. Tommy noticed multiple potted plants and flowers placed in random corners and nooks of the office, all in different stages of dying. He grimaced awkwardly, shifting his gaze away from the dying flora.
What stood out most, of course, was the man sitting behind the table, hands covering his face as he sat slumped behind the large table. His fingers dug into his blue hair, and Tommy could sense the frustration and exhaustion leaking from him.
He tilted his head to the plaque resting on the table, one of the only things in the office aside from the plants that wasn't covered in clutter, reading " Scott Smajor ."
"Hello?" Tommy called, voice light and cautious. Scott hadn't seemed to have noticed his arrival, perking up and trying to regain some semblance of a professional appearance. He studied him for a moment, before seemingly relaxing.
"You're.. Wilbur Soot's brother, right?" He asked, Tommy responding with a curt nod. He hugged Wilbur’s coat tighter to his chest, holding it like a lifeline. The blue haired man gazed down at him with pity in his eyes, frowning as the hope slowly drained from Tommy’s figure.
"I'm sorry," the man, Scott, said. He stared at the coat in Tommy’s arms, frown deepening. "It was all we were able to find."
Tommy grit his teeth, nodding again. "Do.. Do you know anything else? Who took him, where did they take him?"
Scott studied him again, sighing.
"As you know, that coat was found in Syndicate territory," he began, carefully watching Tommy for a reaction. Tommy forced himself to remain stoic. He wouldn't break. "If he was dead, we'd have found his body. Or at least.. what would've been left of it."
"What does that mean, then? Is there a chance he escaped?" If Wilbur had escaped, he could just be in hiding, staying low until the vampires were gone and he could come back home.
Scott frowned, gaze pitying. "Not with the Syndicate," he said apologetically. Tommy grit his teeth, but nodded. "That coven is known for kidnappings, that's the more likely option."
Tommy tried his best not to tremble.
"Look, Tommy," Scott began, standing up from his chair. Tommy took a step back. "The Organization's going to do our best to get your brother back, but.. the chances are low."
"What?"
Scott continued quickly, refusing to meet Tommy's demanding gaze. "The Syndicate is probably the most dangerous coven we can face. We have no real information about them aside from unreliable rumors, our hunters wouldn't even know where to start."
"What do you mean, then?"
"We have no way of finding your brother, let alone knowing if he's even alive," Scott said, finally meeting Tommy's eyes with his gaze revealing nothing. "There's nothing we can do.”
Tommy froze.
Wilbur was… Wilbur was gone. Undeniably, irreversibly gone. Stolen by the vampires that plagued the streets, a coven not even the Organization could stand up to.
He swayed slightly, finding it impossible to stay balanced when his whole world had just been thrown off-kilter. Wilbur, his brother, the only person in the world who had treated him with something other than disdain or apathy. Wilbur was gone.
He feels a hand on his shoulder.
“Listen, Tommy,” Scott says, sighing. “You have a choice."
"You can either go back to living in your now-empty apartment until your money runs out and you’re homeless again, or… you can work for me."
"What?"
"Even if you can't get Wilbur back, the Organization can offer you a chance for retribution," Scott said.
Tommy studies the hunter for a moment, hesitant. Scott’s right. He is at a crossroads.
Chances are, if he doesn’t go with Scott he’ll end up just like Wilbur. Nobody cares about a street rat. His corpse will be given as much sympathy as he'd been given most of his life. But… as a hunter, maybe he can help make some real change. Maybe he can kill some of those leeches who hunt humans for sport.
Maybe he can find Wilbur.
Maybe there's still a tiny, slim sliver of a chance that he can get his brother back.
Scott’s still waiting patiently, his gaze reflecting nothing. Tommy sighs, before taking Scott’s outstretched hand and shaking it firmly.
“Alright,” he says, voice breaking ever so slightly. “I’ll become a hunter.” Scott smiles, and some part of Tommy can’t help but think he sealed his death sentence.
-
Waking up was strange, an experience entirely foreign to his routine.
Tommy hadn't been able to get a true good night's rest since Wilbur’s disappearance, either out on a mission or simply staring at the ceiling of his bedroom, hugging his brother's worn sweater close like he could pretend that it was him. Paired with his lack of sleep was the constant overworking from the Organization, who had been so willing to send him on an endless amount of missions once they learned how valuable of an asset he was. There wasn't a day where Tommy didn't wake up from the few moments of unconsciousness he'd been blessed with feeling sore, muscles aching as he forced the exhaustion he felt to disappear so he could perform more tasks for his superiors.
The only time he thinks he's ever gotten rest is when his injuries from missions required a trip to the infirmary, really only sleeping because of sedatives. He'd always wake up a weird mix of well rested and worn out after those, and he grew to despise trips to the infirmary, learning to care for his own wounds.
What he was feeling right now felt similar to that, though it was far more of a contented, sleepy haze that clouded his mind with thick fog. Tommy blinked, unable to recognize the soft materials he was bundled up in as he tried to regain some form of lucidity. God, everything felt so distant, his entire body heavy. Everything ached, but not in the way it did after missions. It was more like his body had been stretched and put back together hundreds of times while he'd slept, leaving him feeling worn out even with the haze of contentment that filled his head with cotton.
He forced his eyes to remain open, wanting to try and see where he was. His bed was never that soft, even back at home, even when Wilbur was there.
The thought of his brother made something needy and desperate cry out in his mind, jolting him from the sleepy fog to hyper-awareness. He sat up, noticing a thick, seemingly expensive duvet pool in his lap as a chill ran through him. He looked around the unfamiliar room he'd woken up in, panic building up in his chest as he realized he had no idea where he was.
Well, until the events of the previous day resurfaced in his mind.
His mission, the abandoned building, Wilbur.
Wilbur, who was a vampire.
Wilbur, who fucking turned him.
Tommy's panic only grew at that. He'd been turned, Wilbur turned him, he was a fucking bloodsucker now. He let out a distressed whine, something he had not been able to do only a couple of days prior. He was fully lucid now, though the fog in his mind replaced with suffocating panic.
The room he was in was almost pitch-black, looking more like something out of a fancy movie than a real place. Tommy noticed it had windows, but they were covered in curtains, their fabric a thick, dark crimson. The room had a red motif, mixing with dark wooden engravings around the walls and expensive hardwood floors. Aside from the bed Tommy was resting on, other pieces of furniture occupied the room, ranging from bookcases stuffed with thick books, to armchairs and ottomans. There were also different rugs and old paintings, as well as a large closet. The room looked like it had been meticulously prepared, as if his arrival had been eagerly awaited.
He was in the fucking Syndicate's home, taken by his brother, the man he'd been so sure he could trust. He'd walked straight into the vampires' trap just for the wish to have his brother back, unable to see the obvious red flags that lined his path. He felt tears well up in his eyes as he let out another whine, his brain trapped in panic and fear. He was all alone, he wasn't supposed to be alone. He needed Wilbur, he needed his sire, where was his sire-
Tommy jolts as the large door at the corner of the room opens, letting out a short creak as his only warning. Tommy's eyes narrow as he retreats into the fabrics that lined his nest, bristling with panic. Warm, orange light filtered into the room from the door, exposing a hint of the well-lit hallway. Tommy squinted at the sudden brightness, faintly hearing an unfamiliar voice practically coo at him. He opened his eyes to meet a stranger, who calmly closed the door behind him before fully entering the room.
He was dressed in elaborate green robes, with embroidery made with golden threads lining the black and emerald fabric. His hair was a similar color to Tommy’s own, only paler and longer, the straight strands only curling slightly as they reached his chin. A green gem dangled from his ear on a golden chain, the man practically draped in other gold jewelry. Tommy also noticed he wore a black cape, lined with fur around the neck and flowing behind him as if it were a pair of folded wings. He lifted his head to gaze at Tommy, red eyes fond with widened pupils as the vampire's crimson gaze landed on him.
"Hello there, little one," The vampire murmured, voice light and careful as he slowly approached Tommy’s bed. Tommy bared his teeth at the stranger, refusing to even consider for a moment if he'd have grown fangs yet.
The vampire merely seemed amused by Tommy’s warning and the wordless demand to stay back, paying it no mind as he nonchalantly sat down at the foot of the bed. Tommy let out a distressed hiss, trying to move as far back as he could from the vampire. This was a member of the Syndicate, and from the benevolent smile on his face and the way the temperature dropped as he entered, Tommy had a good feeling this was the coven's leader too.
Just fucking fantastic.
"You can call me Philza, mate," The Angel of Death- Philza said, still smiling. Tommy's heartbeat quickened as he noticed the slight flash of the vampire's fangs as he smiled, unable to understand if it was a kind gesture or a threat. It was welcome, even if he was scared.
It was comforting to know he still had his heartbeat, for now.
"Where's Wilbur?" Tommy asked, watching the vampire closely for a reaction. The Organization had taught him to always stay alert, interactions with vampires were an easy death sentence if one was not careful. The coven head frowned slightly at Tommy’s words, almost with pity. Tommy's brows furrowed at that, his mind demanding he find his brother- his sire.
God, he hated thinking like that. He hated the growing part of his brain that was no more than a messy chunk of instincts, something purely inhuman and undeniably vampiric that had settled in him with Wilbur's bite.
"I'm afraid you won't be seeing him for a little while," Philza replied, gaze soft and pitying, as if he anticipated the panic Tommy's instincts immediately plunged him into. Tommy's mind was reeling at that, both human and vampire agreeing that they needed Wilbur.
"What?" He sputtered. "I- what did you do to him?" Tommy snapped, snarling. The elder vampire's pupils narrowed, clearly displeased with Tommy's reaction. He didn't seem mad though, more upset alongside Tommy despite being the cause of his anguish.
"Relax, little one. You'll see him in time, but I simply cannot allow it at the moment," Philza replied, the coven head still calmly observing Tommy.
"Why?" Tommy demanded. Was Wilbur hurt? Had he been punished for bringing him here? For turning him in the first place?
"Why don't you come here, and I'll explain everything?" The elder responded calmly, opening his arms expectantly. Tommy immediately bared his teeth once more, the thought of even going near the creature that had stolen Wilbur away from him repulsing him more than the sights of the mangled corpses of young hunters he'd been forced to watch die during his early days in the Organization. Still, Philza only patiently stared at him, awaiting Tommy to slowly come to his side. Tommy knew he'd be forced to oblige, he had no power here. Even if Phil had made it sound like an offer, a request, he could very easily just grab Tommy in a secure grip and force him to his side. And then, Tommy wouldn't have any information on his brother. Tommy had no real choice in the matter.
With a defeated and heavy sigh, Tommy swallowed his pride and forced himself to slowly crawl through the many fabrics of the nest and towards the coven head. Philza seemed to be overjoyed as he did, immediately wrapping an arm around the boy. "Good, changeling," he praised, and something in Tommy that was clearly not him preened at the affirmation and contact from the vampire.
"I hope you fucking die," Tommy replied instead of voicing his vampiric self's thoughts. "Where's my brother?"
"He's safe," Phil assured, bringing a hand to gently card through Tommy's curly hair. He seemed cautious yet fascinated by every small move the teen made, an almost permanent smile on his face. "Don't you worry, I'd never hurt him."
Tommy wanted to scream that kidnapping and turning his brother was, in fact, hurting him. But something told him the coven head wouldn't see it that way, and to simply save his breath.
"Why can't I see him?" Tommy instead asked.
"Ah, that one is a longer story," Philza mused, hand petting Tommy's head as if he were a dog. Tommy wished for nothing more than to bite at Philza's clawed hand, only prevented from doing so by his preening instincts, overjoyed to be coddled by the older vampire.
"Explain, then," Tommy demanded, teeth bared. Philza's smile somehow grew at that, as if he was happy to know Tommy wanted to sink his teeth into his windpipe. The absolute madman. The vampire still nodded, though, agreeing to elaborate to Tommy.
"You see, your turning wasn't exactly… planned."
"What the hell?" Tommy stared at him, confused. It all seemed very planned, all a trap to get him captured and turned, a permanent prisoner of the most dangerous coven in the world. "Wilbur's smart, but not enough to come up with a kidnapping on the fly," He retorted.
"No, the kidnapping was very planned," Philza assured nonchalantly, as if that was the least concerning part of his plan. "Wilbur wasn't meant to turn you, though."
"What the hell was he meant to do then, kill me?" Tommy retorted, hissing. Part of him was relieved at that, somehow. That even after.. everything, Wilbur wouldn't kill him. Wouldn't hurt him.
Philza seemed slightly alarmed at Tommy’s response, though, his grip on the bristling changeling slightly tightening.
"No, of course not," Philza quickly comforted. "There were just some.. miscommunications, between me and your brother," he said, not elaborating further even as Tommy glared at him.
"Un-turn me then," he hissed, eyes narrowing and a slight smug grin growing on his face. "If this truly was an accident, undo it."
Tommy knew his chances of convincing the vampire were lower than zero. If common sense hadn't told him that, the possessive grip the creature had on him did. Vampires were never keen on letting go of what they had claimed, and Tommy was smart enough to know that for this creature, that included him.
" Child, I was led to believe you were smart," the vampire chuckled, lightly jostling Tommy as he did. "There's no way to reverse a turning, I would've thought the Organization would teach you that."
Tommy bared his teeth, a hiss building up in the back of his throat. He knew that, everyone knew that, but some part of him longed to remain in denial, to not yet have to mourn the permanent loss of his humanity.
Philza seemed to sense Tommy's defeat, pressing the child closer to his side with a comforting purr. Tommy's mind was sent reeling at that, instincts flaring as a haze of contentment threatened to overtake him again.
There seemed to be more Philza was keeping from him, details the vampire must be leaving out. Tommy didn't trust that he was receiving all the information the coven head had, and he decided he'd need to push for more.
He grit his teeth, attempting to twist out of Philza's grip as the vampire studied him closely.
"What're you thinking about, mate?" The coven head asked, tilting his head in a bird-like gesture. Tommy frowned, staring down at his lap wordlessly. Philza didn't seem to take his silence as an answer, slowly lifting Tommy's chin to force him to meet his crimson gaze.
"What aren't you telling me?" Tommy snapped, glaring at the amused bloodsucker, who simply let out a questioning hum.
"Whaddya mean, Toms?"
Tommy furrowed his brows. "It can't just be a fucking miscommunication, why the fuck am I here? Why aren't you letting me see Wilbur?"
Philza sighed, though Tommy didn't see anything aside from painful neutrality in the vampire's features. "It's more complicated than that," the creature justified, but after a quick glance at the bristling changeling he decided to elaborate once more.
"You've caused some.. trouble, in the vampire world," Philza said. "We don't exactly take lightly to a stray hunter going on a murder spree."
"And I don't take lightly to my brother being fucking kidnapped, " Tommy retorted, Philza merely smiling at that.
"The other covens wanted to kill you, mate," he said, Tommy pausing for a moment at that. They wanted him dead. The entire complex chain of covens and loners that made up the vampire's society had agreed he needed to be killed. Part of him swelled with pride at that, at knowing how well he was doing his part for humanity.
And yet… he wasn't dead.
He was something worse.
"Frankly, I agreed with them at first," Philza admitted, almost sheepishly. "It was Wilbur who convinced me you should be spared."
Tommy blinked, deciding against piping up and interrupting the vampire.
"Turning you was out of the question, though. Of course, Wilbur hadn't gotten the message."
"What?" Tommy couldn't help but interrupt at that despite his better judgment. "What do you mean- you didn't want me turned?"
"Of course not, Toms. That part was all your brother," Philza confirmed, and Tommy couldn't see anything about the creature that would imply he wasn't being sincere. "I should've warned him against it, but it's not his fault he didn't know better."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Tommy demanded. The vampires at least had some reason not to kill him thanks to Wilbur, but what would've convinced them to not turn him?
Philza tilted his head at that, almost puzzled. "Does the Organization truly teach their hunters nothing? Or has their knowledge been lost to time?" Tommy narrowed his eyes, glaring at him. The Organization had taught him everything he knew about slaughtering vampires, about anything regarding the creatures. They were humanity's best and only source of information on the monsters, they couldn't just.. forget something, let their precious information die out with older generations.
Philza seemed partially amused by his lack of a response. "Truly, more pathetic than I anticipated. They've gotten more and more foolish as time's passed."
Tommy wanted to retort something to defend the organization that had given him the resources to hunt down his brother's kidnappers, but found he had nothing. Resentment and apathy clawed in his mind as he recalled his time with the vampire hunters who sent him out to be killed, who had no true concern for him.
It wasn't that surprising that the Organization would fail at keeping precious knowledge alive.
Philza frowned, humming softly as he began running a hand through Tommy's hair once more.
"You're what we call a runt, little one. A changeling turned far too early," Philza said, continuing to card a clawed hand through his curls. Tommy blinked up at the coven head, thoroughly confused.
"What?"
Philza cooed softly at the changeling tucked against his side, Tommy noticing the creature's pupils were slightly dilated. "Humans are.. fragile, " he supplied, gaze full of affection. "The little ones especially. Their bodies aren't fully developed, some don't even survive their turns."
Tommy froze at that. Wilbur had.. he'd turned him, and there was a chance Tommy could've died.
Wilbur could've killed him.
Philza let out a comforting rumble upon seeing the boy's concern. "It's alright, child. You're past that phase now, you're okay."
"I don't- why does this even matter?" Tommy snapped, trying to push the knowledge that Wilbur had almost killed him far from his mind.
"Vampires don't age, Toms. One turned young remains young, even as a vampire," Philza explained, a hint of pity in his gaze. "It was agreed no changelings were to be turned so young to keep them from this fate."
"Wh-what the hell do you mean? What the fuck did you do? " Tommy spat. He was done, so done with all of this fucking vampire bullshit. He twisted in Philza's grip, trying to push the vampire away from him and retreat into the furthest corners of the nest. He didn't want whatever the fuck Philza was trying to explain to him. He wanted to go home, he wanted Wilbur.
Philza seemed displeased with Tommy's attempts to escape, the vampire suddenly letting out an unfamiliar sound that caused Tommy to immediately go slack. The creature's pupils had narrowed into slits, a sound akin to a hiss leaving his throat as he bared sharpened teeth at the changeling.
Tommy felt himself immediately submit, whining what felt like an apology and tilting his head so his neck was on full display to the vampire.
Fuck, it was like his stupid damn bloodsucker brain had been kicked into overdrive by Philza's slightest move, a simple hiss from the coven head sending him diving head-first into instincts even deeper than the haze that had overtaken him when he'd been turned.
Philza seemed to recover almost instantaneously from his outburst, lifting the panicked changeling into his arms and wrapping him in one of the nest's blankets. He unceremoniously dropped Tommy down in the back of the nest, exactly where he started off.
" That's what I mean," the vampire said coolly as Tommy burrowed into the pillows with a whine. He blinks, gaze blurry and mind muddled. Philza smirked at that, gently cupping the back of his neck and lifting his head from where it lay buried into the pillows. Tommy whined, everything seemed so foggy all of the sudden, even if his mind assured him he was safe in Philza's hold. The vampire shifted Tommy to rest against him, letting out a comforting rumble that only dragged Tommy further down into his instincts.
"You're even worse than Will was when his instincts kicked in," Philza observed softly. "I never had a runt myself, I wasn't expecting you to be this fragile," he added, voice a tad quieter when he noticed Tommy curling up at the sound with a displeased whine.
"I'm sorry," Philza hummed, his tone apologetic. "I suppose this'll be a learning experience for the both of us," he remarked, ruffling Tommy's hair. The changeling's eyes slightly narrowed, and he found himself baring his teeth and letting out a strange warble noise.
Even if he had no clue what kind of sound he just made, Philza seemed to understand the meaning of it, pupils growing larger.
"Hungry, mate?" He asked, tilting his head and Tommy found he was suddenly acutely aware of his empty stomach's desperate demand for food. He nodded repeatedly, hoping the older vampire would be able to provide him with a meal, would get his sire so he could be fed.
Disappointingly, Philza wasn't calling his sire. Instead, the vampire raised his hand to his mouth, fangs sinking into his own wrist until the scent of blood was thick in the air, driving Tommy's instincts mad. He could practically taste the sweet rust in the air, and he let out a needy chitter in an attempt to ask for the food. Philza tilted his gaze down at him, an amused yet fond smile on his face as he stared at him. Slowly, the vampire lowered his wrist close enough for Tommy to grab and greedily drink the crimson liquid leaking from the wound.
Tommy wrinkled his nose the moment he was able to taste it. It was still blood, yes. He didn't expect anything aside from that, didn't really want anything else. But it tasted.. different . It wasn't.. it wasn't his sire's blood like Tommy needed . It sent Tommy’s mind reeling, confused but too hungry to stop him from feeding on the strange blood. He stared up at Philza, hoping the older vampire had some sort of explanation as to why it tasted wrong.
Philza luckily sensed his confusion, using one of his hands to run through Tommy’s hair as he drank. The one that wasn't currently being used as Tommy’s personal chew toy. "It's okay," he softly assured. "Just drink, little one."
Tommy squinted at him, unsure whether he should listen, but a soft croon from the vampire calmed his nerves and he continued his meal. That earned an approving chuff from Philza, so Tommy concluded he was doing pretty well. The blood didn't taste as odd by the time Phil dragged his wrist away, muttering something about being glad Tommy's fangs hadn't fully grown in just yet.
"There we go, Toms. It isn't that bad, right?" Philza asked, a soft smile on his face as he tucked the changeling to his side. Tommy nodded, not really paying attention to Philza's words yet still feeling the need to show he acknowledged them. "Yeah, once we get that first bond severed you'll be doing much better," He said.
Tommy didn't really understand his words, but Philza had gone back to playing with his hair and he no longer had to worry about his stomach begging for food, so he didn't really pay them any mind. Instead, he felt his eyelids begin to flutter. He was.. tired. Even if he practically just woke up, his body protested at the thought of even trying to get up. The nest was far more comfortable. He was safe, and Philza would protect him.
His instincts seemed far more relaxed around Philza than just a few moments earlier. It was as if the vampire had done… something… to cause Tommy’s hindbrain to go all weird like Wilbur, his sire, had. He stared at the vampire, tired blue eyes meeting curious red.
"What's on your mind, little one?" Philza asked, head tilted slightly as he stared at the changeling.
Tommy didn't exactly feel like speaking, the thought of doing so sounding wrong in his brain. Instead, he let out a questioning chitter and a call for his sire, hoping that would pass along his message. It seemingly did, Philza's eyes lighting up with understanding.
"Ah, not yet, I'm afraid," He said. "The bond won't sever properly if Wilbur’s here."
Tommy glared at him. The vampire's words, though Tommy couldn't fully comprehend them, caused something in his hindbrain to churn uncomfortably. As much as Philza's kind touch and soothing rumbles were appreciated, Tommy’s hindbrain longed for his brother. His instincts cried for his sire, the invisible tether between the two stretched far too much for his liking. He let out another needy chitter. Philza had to understand, Tommy needed him to understand.
Tommy needed Wilbur.
Philza frowned at that, his hold on Tommy tightening as he did. Tommy didn't protest at that, merely resting his head against the older vampire with a warble. The older vampire's eyes were filled with pity as he stared at the changeling, the child's blue eyes full of impatience and fear.
"Soon," He assured softly, wrapping Tommy in his thick cape. Tommy hid his face in the dark fur lining the fabric, the black tufts providing shelter from the world. It smelled of Philza, obviously. But aside from that, other scents clung to the fabric. Some unrecognizable, some so familiar Tommy had to swallow back the desperate cry of sire . But they all smelled of his coven, of home .
He didn't know why some of his brain protested against that, a weak ripple easily drowned out by the flood of his instincts. He yawned, the muddled mess that was his mind filling him with exhaustion just from thinking about everything.
Tommy… he didn't want to think, didn't want to remember.
He was warm, comfortable and safe.
That's all he really needed.
-
"How long are you going to sulk there?"
Wilbur squinted at his brother, eyes narrowed to slits as the older vampire met his gaze with a challenging glint in his eyes.
"Dad told me to get you something to eat," Techno said, voice the same monotone rumble it always was. However, Wilbur knew the vampire enough to recognize the hint of concern laced in his tone.
Techno seemed awfully like he'd just been woken up from a nap, his usually neatly braided pink hair was a mess, stray hairs poking out and ruining the usually perfect image the vampire maintained. He still donned his usual red cape, the white fur lining it spotted with black, but aside from it his outfit was casual. In his clawed hand Techno held a familiar item, a bag full to the brim with red liquid. Wilbur simply glared at him again, burrowing deeper into his nest.
He'd been locked up in his room too many times to count, either for destructive behavior or escape attempts, both things his sire deeply frowned upon. But never like this, never with his instincts screaming more than ever to find his changeling, to protect Tommy because if he wasn't there, the child would be exposed to dangers he couldn't keep him safe from.
It was agony, to be separated from the younger. Philza had told him that would happen, a pitying frown on his face as he did.
"It's just until the bond is severed, mate," his sire had reassured softly, Tommy still curled up and asleep in his arms. "It won't take too long, I promise you I'll keep him safe."
Frankly, Philza's reassurance had done little to ease his nerves or quiet his guilt at what he had doomed his brother to face.
"A hunger strike isn't going to help you or Tommy, y'know," Techno grumbled, settling down in the nest beside his brother. He extended his hand, offering the blood bag to Wilbur to drink voluntarily.
Wilbur knew he had no real choice, Philza didn't take kindly to his hunger strikes, refusing to drink his or human blood just to spite the vampire. He'd been punished for it before, having freedoms and privileges taken away until he was made to eat. He glared at Techno for a moment, debating whether to just cooperate or continue to spite his sire and covenmate.
But then again, Philza had Tommy. Tommy, who was being turned, stuck in the most vulnerable state a vampire could experience.
He trusted his sire not to hurt Tommy, but he also knew Philza was currently the one separating him from his little brother. He could easily not allow Wilbur to see him as long as he kept lashing out like this, and both Wilbur’s rational thoughts and his instincts agreed that he couldn't bear that.
He took the bag from his brother, taking a sip of the blood and making sure to shudder as he did to show his displeasure. That earned him a gentle cuff on the back of the head and an upset rumble from Techno.
"I spent hours hunting that," he said, though he knew Wilbur’s disgust with the meal was fully from a place of spite.
"Stop playing with your food and maybe it'll taste better," Wilbur retorted, sticking his tongue out before returning to his meal.
"Stop disrespecting my artistic merit," Techno snarled, Wilbur snickering as his reply.
It still felt unnatural to lightheartedly banter with the vampire that was now his brother, especially about a topic as gruesome as Techno's hunts. He'd seen pictures before in news articles of the mangled messes of what used to be humans left from Techno's attacks on humanity, or a patrol of hunters who got a bit too confident. He'd been horrified before, deathly afraid of ever encountering the beast.
Now, he was sharing a meal with the vampire, the air light and only a bit of tension from Tommy’s situation leaning into their conversation.
When he had first been taken, he'd been terrified of Techno, avoiding him as much as possible. Philza had tried to assure him Techno was safe, that the only danger he faced from the beast was Techno's habit of "wasting food." The two had eventually warmed up to each other, though. Wilbur expected it to be the same with Tommy now, already dreading that whole ordeal. Especially with Tommy's status as a former hunter.
He sighed.
"How's Tommy?" He asked.
Techno shrugged in reply. "Phil won't let me see him yet, even if the kid did wake up."
"Makes sense," Wilbur said. "Probably learned from our first interaction," he added with a faint smirk.
Techno glared at him, eyes lacking any amusement.
Their first interaction ended with Wilbur throwing a vase at him.
"Not only that," Techno added. "The kid's fragile, makes sense that Phil would be careful."
Wilbur gave no reply.
"I'll still probably see him before you, I can pass over a message," Techno offered, clearly trying to continue the conversation Wilbur had no energy for. Wilbur slumped in the nest, nudging the now-empty bag of blood towards his covenmate. He buried his face in the fabrics scattered across the nest, making no effort to bring some order to it.
"I don't know," He muttered, receiving a pillow tossed in his direction. "I don't think he'd want a message from me, after what I did."
"He can't stay mad forever," Techno replied nonchalantly.
"Knowing Tommy, he'd try," Wilbur responded, muttering into the pillows he had collapsed onto.
"And we'd have eternity to get through to him." Techno settled beside Wilbur, tossing his cape over him. Wilbur accepted the gesture, wrapping the thick fabric over his shoulders. "Now stop sulking, it's pathetic."
Wilbur sighed, forcing a smile on his face. "Only if you go get my guitar."
"Bastard."