Chapter Text
Tommy navigated the streets carefully, the gentle pitter-patter of raindrops on the sidewalk lulling him into a steady rhythm. He'd grown up in places like this, amongst trash and hopelessness. Nobody ever comes down to the slums, there's nothing there but poverty and frequent vampire attacks. Not even the hunter organization steps in to stop the chaos, feeling content with the semi-truce they've got with the vampires. Those fucks have no care if a couple people in the slums go missing and later end up a lifeless corpse drained of all their blood.
Unlike most of the organization, Tommy did care.
He'd come from the slums, after all. Just another filthy orphan on the streets. He spent most of his early life with an empty stomach and stupid hopes of something better than the life he had now. He had nothing.
And then, he had Wilbur.
Wilbur, who found him trying to steal a couple of coins from the pocket of his torn up coat and offered him some pastry his friend had given him.
Wilbur, the aspiring musician who had just turned eighteen, who had no problem letting a child into his apartment that he already didn't have enough money to pay for.
Wilbur, who was better than all of Tommy’s dreams of a better life while on the streets, going to bed with an empty belly and the stars hidden by thick clouds.
Tommy had nothing, and then he had Wilbur.
And then his brother left for a night shift at some grocery place to get just a bit more money and didn't come back. His old coat had been found in a worse state than before, dotted with crimson splashes and with the horrible stench of rust spreading through the air.
It had been found in Syndicate Territory.
The fucking Syndicate had taken his brother.
The Syndicate wasn't like other covens, no. The fuckers are ancient. Records of them span hundreds of years back, and even then almost nothing is known about them.
All the information that centuries of studies have given culminated into the knowledge that the fuckers are dangerous and smart as hell.
One of the members, only known as the Blood God, likes to hunt humans down for the thrill of it. Chasing them around alleyways and even just out in the streets for the world to see. No matter what, the Blood God's hunts ended with his victim ripped apart and bathed in their own blood.
Tommy couldn't help but feel grateful for the fact that only Wilbur’s coat has been found. If the Blood God had been the one his brother encountered, it wouldn't be just the old trenchcoat they would've found.
That left the only other member of the Syndicate, who was said to be the Blood God's sire.
The Angel of Death.
Unlike his changeling, the Angel was known to stalk his victims for weeks, slowly lulling them into a false feeling of friendship and safety. After that, it was unknown what he'd do to them.
Sometimes the police would find the torn apart shreds of what was once a human, and sometimes they never did.
Wilbur was now one of those many missing victims of the Angel, immediately chalked up to another hopeless case.
But Tommy refused to give up that easily.
The hunter organization already didn't give a single shit about the slums, one extra child soldier for them was warmly accepted. Tommy wouldn't give up on Wilbur, he promised himself he'd find his brother and destroy those that hurt him. He trained endlessly, pushing himself to his limits and beyond them, fueled only by spite and rage.
From the moment he was given a weapon and a mission, Tommy became unstoppable.
He'd track down whatever bloodsucker the organization needed dealt with, and swiftly take care of them. At first he would be sent with teams of other kids, to supposedly "make it a fair fight" against a fucking vampire , but Tommy quickly proved he could be trusted alone.
Yet no matter how much he threatened and tortured and killed, no vampire dared give him any information on his brother.
At first he could believe the excuse that they truly didn't know. It didn't save them, of course, but he understood they were clueless.
But then vampires started to freeze up when he said Wilbur’s name, eyes lighting up in recognition. They were hiding something from him, all the loners and covens he went after.
They knew something he didn't.
Until a routine mission to kill some loner.
The smell of blood wafted through the air, thick and inescapable. Tommy ignored the stench of rust and the crimson liquid staining the walls of the streets as he walked past abandoned buildings and deliberately stepped inside the deep puddles forming on the cracked sidewalk. Wilbur used to take him out to play on rainy days, uncaring if Tommy’s shoes got stained with mud as long as he could see him smile. Even puddles were now a painful reminder of who he had lost, of what he was fighting for. Even when surrounded by the stench of blood and the feeling of misery, all he could focus on was Wilbur. After more than a year of searching, he's finally close, he can finally find him, and things can be just like they were before.
Part of his gut pondered if the hunter organization would willingly give him up, allow him to go right back to the slums like he hadn't spent a year killing for them, but he reassured himself and refused to let the doubt take root.
When he finds Wilbur, everything will be alright.
He clutches the silver knife so tight his hand hurts, skin turning pale as he grips the handle of his weapon like a lifeline. Some criticized him for his use of knives instead of silver bullets or an old-fashioned stake, but Tommy doesn't care about speed or efficiency.
He wants to make it hurt.
He comes to a sudden stop in front of what looks like an abandoned office building, an old dirty sign above it reading "Pogtopia". The vampire from last week had given him these coordinates, promising that hidden in this building was at least a hint to where his brother was. Someone who knew much more than they did. He'd forced the creature to repeat the coordinates, the layout of the building and exactly where he'd find what he was looking for as he slowly dug his blade into their heart. They didn't dare lie in such a situation, not even while being immortal. Not when mercy might be promised if they comply.
After he memorized the instructions, he gave the bloodsucker a quick end. That was the only mercy such a monster deserved.
He slowly brought a hand to the handle of the door, opening it to reveal a dark hallway. He squinted, letting his eyes get adjusted to the darkness.
Vampires could see in the dark better than the average human, but Tommy still thinks he can pull this off. The hallways aren't pitch black, he'll still be able to see, and if he's fast enough the bloodsuckers' enhanced senses won't be enough to warn them.
His theory is proven right when only a few minutes after entering a building he notices two bloodsuckers calmly chatting in one of the many hallways, occasionally looking around for any intruders. Guards, probably. The loner he killed told him to expect them, that whatever vampire was hiding in this building had many guards to keep them safe.
The vampires were too caught up in conversation to realize Tommy was creeping up on them, and before they could react he had already jumped onto one of them, kicking them down with as much force as he could muster and driving his knife through their back and into the heart. The other guard let out a distressed hiss, panic in their eyes as Tommy ripped out his knife from the now fully dead corpse under him and threw it straight into the vampire's chest. His aim was perfect, the bloodsucker barely had time to wheeze a pitiful sob before it too died.
Tommy stood up, scrunching his nose and taking in his work with pure malice in his eyes. Some cruel part of him mourned giving the creatures such quick deaths, but he comforted himself with the knowledge that he was now closer to his goal. As much as he thrived off the sick satisfaction of slowly ending the pathetic existence of the monsters that had taken his brother from him, Tommy knew he needed to remain focused on the task at hand.
He continued down the hall, taking a left to find another staircase, just as the loner had told him. He'll burn the bodies later.
He continued like that for what felt like hours, navigating floor after floor with the knowledge he'd been given and memorized, and occasionally getting the joy of killing a couple bloodsuckers on the way. Part of him knew he shouldn't find killing the creatures as cathartic as he did, but the fuckers deserved it. They'd taken his brother, he'd kill every last one of them if he could and he'd fucking enjoy it.
Eventually, he made it to the last floor, where the loner had told him he'd find answers. He felt like a predator on the hunt, following the scent of his prey as it only got stronger and stronger. He stared at the closed doors in the hall, waiting for one to open just the slightest bit and for him to be ambushed. But nothing came to prove Tommy’s paranoia right, so he advanced.
The loner had said the last door on the left. They said it's some sort of lounge, and that's where the bloodsucker who knows about Wilbur is hiding.
Tommy felt his chest tighten as he reached the door, his confidence turning to anxious paranoia as he held onto the knob with one hand and to the handle of his trusted knife with the other. Adrenaline coursed through his veins like lightning, pushing him onwards, and soon Tommy found that pure excitement replaced his anxiety, crawling in his gut like a caged animal. Every second was taking him closer to his brother.
Soon this will be over.
He takes his time, hiding behind the door, right outside their hiding spot and breathing heavily. He was so close, so close to another hint to Wilbur, so close to this all being over.
He takes a deep breath, letting out a shaky exhale.
And then Tommy lunges, opening the door before he could think of what would away inside too much, silver blade raised and ready to-
"Toms?"
The knife clattered to the carpeted floor and Tommy almost fell to his knees.
In front of him, slumped on a soft couch, was Wilbur.
He looked better than Tommy ever remembered him. He was no longer as thin as he was before, the exhaustion that had always seemed to permanently hang off his tall frame gone as if it had never been. He wore round glasses with a thin golden frame, the lens tinted a deep red that overpowered the usual brown of his brother's eyes, making them appear a bright crimson. He wore a yellow sweater reminiscent of the one he'd wear back at home, the one Tommy still has under his pillow because it reeked so strongly of his brother that it helped keep the nightmares away when Will wasn't there to do it himself. Above the sweater he wore a fancy leather trenchcoat, fur lining the neck and buttons tied with golden threads. The coat was in far better shape than Wilbur’s old coat was, brand new and looking like it had cost a fortune. Tommy duly noticed that a green emerald was dangling from his brother's ear on a golden chain.
Tommy didn't care about the changes, about anything, immediately jumping to be embraced by his brother. Wilbur opened his arms the moment Tommy lunged for him, letting the boy curl up against him on the couch with a sob.
Tommy couldn't care less about why Wilbur was here, about how Wilbur was here, all he cared about was that he was here, cuddling Tommy close to his chest as he whispers comforts in his ear. Tommy latched onto his brother's sweater, fingers curling into the fabric as he held and refused to let go for even a moment, afraid that he would be torn away from his brother once more.
"I missed you," Tommy whispered, face buried in Wilbur's chest and staining the fabric of his sweater with salty tears. Wilbur didn't seem to mind, burying his face in Tommy’s curls and holding him close.
Fuck , this was everything Tommy had wanted all these months alone. It didn't matter that he and Wilbur were huddled together on a couch in some random lounge in an abandoned Syndicate building. He had his brother, everything can be just like it was before.
"I missed you too, sunshine." Wilbur whispered and Tommy melted at the nickname with an ecstatic laugh and a sob. He remembered when Wilbur first started using it after making a few remarks about how Tommy’s hair gleamed when in the sun, making the boy look like a ray of sunshine himself. and Tommy felt his chest tighten as Wilbur whispered the word after so much time. "I missed you so much, it took me so long to convince them, but I'm bringing you home."
Tommy stilled, tilting his head to look up at Wilbur. Who'd he need to convince?
The euphoria from being reunited with his brother slowly dissipated, leaving behind an awful feeling of confusion.
How had Wilbur even gotten away from the vampires?
"What d'you mean?" Tommy whispered, panic seeping into his voice. He tried to pull away, tension and dread filling the air, but found himself unable to move as Wilbur held him close to his chest with an inhuman strength that Tommy knew for certain he never had before.
Wilbur had always been a bit scrawny, and strength had never really been something his brother possessed. Even before his training with the Organization, Tommy had easily proven to be stronger than his brother. Yet now, Wilbur showed no signs of effort as Tommy struggled against his hold. Tommy knew that only one creature had that much strength, only one creature was as cold as Wilbur’s hands were. He pushed against Wilbur’s chest with desperation, frustrated tears building up in his eyes as Wilbur effortlessly held him to his chest, melodic voice still whispering reassurances to the blonde.
"Will-please let me go." Tommy begged, voice light and full of fear and panic as he fought against the vampire . Wilbur didn't let him go, instead only squeezing him tighter and shaking his head.
"Toms, you need to calm down-" his brother began, but Tommy managed to free a hand from his grip and punch the bastard in the face, stopping anything else he had to say. He'd also broken Wilbur’s glasses, the expensive looking accessory flying off his brother's face and hitting the drywall, revealing blood red eyes.
Wilbur frowned, staring down at the struggling child with mild annoyance in his eyes. He sighed, and Tommy flinched as he saw his brother's fangs on full display.
They turned him. They fucking turned him.
Tommy wanted to scream. He wanted to find the coven that had taken his brother and done this to him. He wanted to take his knife and drive it into their throat and decorate the walls of their home with their remains like his own fucked up art project.
Wait- his knife!
Tommy managed to turn his head to where he dropped the weapon, the silver blade still glimmering in the orange light that poured from the streetlamps outside the window of the room. He twisted around in the vampire's hold, lunging for the knife that was still in reach on the floor before he'd get a second to react. He knows he doesn't have it in him to kill Wilbur, vampire or not, but maybe it would be enough to daze him for a moment and allow Tommy a second to escape. He'll run, and he'll find a way to cure his brother. There's got to be some way to cure vampirism, the fucks have been around for centuries.
He managed to grab hold of the knife, but his wrist was roughly grabbed by Wilbur, who squeezed it with unnatural strength until Tommy was forced to release the blade with a cry of pain. The brunette threw away the knife and watched as it joined his glasses on the other side of the room, before grabbing Tommy’s wrists and holding them tight against his chest, shushing him gently.
"Enough of that now," Wilbur crooned, voice oddly calm for someone who almost got stabbed. "We both know you wouldn't have been able to do it."
Tommy grit his teeth. Wilbur was right, even if he had been able to wrestle away from Wilbur and grab the knife, he doubted he had the guts to hurt the vampire. His brother knew it as well as he did. Tears welled in his eyes, salty droplets trickling down his face as he lowered his head and slumped against Wilbur in defeat, burying his face in the crook of his brother's neck.
"That's better, we don't have to fight, Toms." Wilbur said, lightly resting his cheek on Tommy’s head as he shifted his grip to hold him close. "I missed you, I really did."
"They turned you." Tommy sobbed, barely able to form the words as Wilbur grabbed a blanket from seemingly fucking nowhere and wrapped it around them. "They fucking turned you."
"They brought me home." Wilbur said, voice strained in a way that seemed so fond yet so pained, leaving a sour feeling in Tommy’s gut. "And now I can bring you home too."
Tommy couldn't do anything but let out a sound of terrified confusion, all the fight gone from him. There was no use, Wilbur had him pinned and didn't seem to be planning on ever letting go. Vampires were possessive by nature, he wouldn't just let Tommy leave.
Tommy’s only weapon was on the other side of the room, and he had no way to reach it. Even if he did, he'd never be able to hurt his brother.
He was trapped.
One of Wilbur’s hands moved from rubbing comforting circles on his back to scratching at his scalp, humming a soft tune. Tommy felt his eyes flutter. He was tired, so so tired. The vampire smiled at him, still humming his gentle song as Tommy finally felt the constant exhaustion that had plagued him take over, allowing Wilbur’s soothing voice to wash over him and drag him closer and closer to the realm of sleep.
He felt Wilbur’s head move, no longer leaning against him. One of his hands came to cup Tommy’s cheek, tilting his head until his neck was exposed. Tommy leaned against the cold hand, a contrast to the uncomfortable warmth of his own body, earning a fond chuckle from Wilbur before the vampire went silent, almost contemplative.
Tommy didn't realize what was happening until it was too late.
Fangs sunk into the side of his neck, pain erupting from the wound as venom spread through his veins. Tommy screams. He tries to push against Wilbur, to pull away before the venom can start its job, but Wilbur is far stronger than him, holding him in place as Tommy sobs and begs for the pain to stop. Wilbur eventually pulls away himself, curling around Tommy as his chest rumbles unnaturally. Tommy's exhaustion was replaced with hyper-awareness, frantic eyes darting around in a silent plea for help as Wilbur calmly rested his chin on the crown of his head.
"I'm sorry, sunshine. They wouldn't have done it themselves, not until-" Wilbur paused for a moment, sighing to himself. "They would've hurt you."
Tommy looked up at Wilbur, his eyes full of pain at the betrayal. He turned him, Wilbur fucking turned him .
His body felt like it was on fire , pain pulsing through him in waves that didn't seem like they'd ever stop. Everything felt too bright and too loud and Tommy shut his eyes tight, burying his face in Wilbur's neck with a pained whine. Wilbur let out a strange rumbling sound in response, one that made a slowly growing part of Tommy’s brain melt into a soft, gooey puddle.
"There we go, Toms. You're doing great." Wilbur whispered, Tommy's response being an unintelligible mess of sounds that neither he nor Wilbur could understand the meaning of.
"Here," Wilbur said, shifting Tommy in his hold so he could free one of his hands. Tommy watched as his brother's fangs dug into his own wrist before he brought it to Tommy’s mouth. "Drink." he commanded, as the horrifyingly sweet and intoxicating smell of rust flooded his senses.
The moment Wilbur’s wrist was close enough to his mouth, he greedily grabbed it and drank the crimson liquid oozing from the wound like a parched man in a desert oasis. The saccharine taste of his brother's blood filled his mouth and Tommy found himself eagerly drinking the thick liquid. As Tommy drank, Wilbur purred and ran his other hand through Tommy's hair, trying to bring some order to the messy curls.
Much to Tommy’s disappointment, Wilbur eventually pulled his arm away, the wound on his brother's wrist closing up as soon as he did. Tommy blinked, dazed. He didn't know vampires could heal that quickly. It was a terrifying thought to think that his brother was so healthy and well-fed as a vampire that he'd be able to heal his injuries almost instantly. Wilbur adjusted the blanket covering the two, Tommy shivering and leaning closer to Wilbur as he did, even if the man was like a walking freezer. Some newly awakened instinct in his brain was overjoyed as his current situation, curled up at his sire's side, the drowsiness that came after a filling meal threatening to drag him to the realm of unconsciousness.
Tommy didn't know how long they stayed like that, with Wilbur holding him close as Tommy shifted in and out of consciousness. Sleep wouldn't come to him for more than a few minutes, and Tommy found himself jolting awake every time even the slightest noise echoed from outside. Wilbur eventually shifted, his grip on Tommy momentarily tightening as he rose to his feet, adjusting Tommy so his head rested on his brother's shoulder.
"It's time we get going, sunshine." Wilbur whispered as Tommy nestled closer in his brother's hold. His brain felt fuzzy and everything was distant, all he could do was sink in his sire's arms with a sleepy warble. Wilbur chuckled, resting his cheek on Tommy’s head for a moment, before he began walking out of the room. The steady rhythm of his brother's footsteps only helped lull Tommy closer and closer to sleep, Wilbur’s chest rumbling comfortingly.
Tommy blinked as his brother paused suddenly, tilting his head and scrunching his nose at something Tommy couldn't see. He twisted in Wilbur’s arms, shifting his gaze to see the crumpled body of one of the vampire guards he'd slaughtered. The memory felt distant now, even if it hadn't even been a couple of hours.
He looked up at Wilbur, gaze questioning. His sire merely smiled, amused. "It seems you caused quite the scene, didn't you?" He chuckled, ruffling Tommy's hair affectionately and merely walking over the body. Tommy buried himself in Wilbur's arms again with a whine, nuzzling close to his brother and hiding his face in the crook of the vampire's neck as he continued to carry him out of the building.
Tommy didn't know how much further Wilbur had walked before he fell into a deep sleep.
-
Wilbur found himself quite happy to finally be out of the rain, the constant stream of raindrops proving to be a horrible nuisance. His expensive clothes had been soaked by the rainstorm, and the sleeping changeling curled up in his arms looked like a pathetic wet cat, his golden curls soggy and clinging to his skin. Wilbur adjusted his grip on the boy to press the button to call for the elevator, a hint of nervousness creeping up on him at the thought of having to present Tommy to his sire.
Bitterness curled in his gut at the thought of Philza, despite the insistent affection towards his sire that came from his vampiric instincts. Wilbur wanted to hate the creature, truly he did. But even without the vampire part of him that was forced to care for his sire, Wilbur couldn't find himself fully resenting Philza. Yes, the vampire had kidnapped him, stolen him from his brother and his life just to rope him into playing house. But over a year of isolation with only him and Techno as his company has made him warm up to the two.
He grumbled to himself as the elevator doors opened, stepping inside and pushing the button for the top floor. The Syndicate's home felt like a castle compared to Wilbur’s apartment, a roomy penthouse with two floors and countless rooms he'd spent months exploring. His gut twisted at the thought of Tommy all alone in their old apartment for all the months Wilbur was gone, cold and miserable without his big brother. He whined, holding the boy closer. Tommy made no protest, still soundly asleep and curled up against him. Even if Tommy was awake, he'd probably still stay calm and relaxed in Wilbur's arms, too wrapped up in instincts to pull away.
Wilbur remembered his own early instincts, spending weeks unable to do anything but rest with his sire at his side. It had taken months until Philza allowed him to spend time outside the nest, and even then he required Wilbur to be supervised when he did.
Wilbur couldn't really blame him, he couldn't even count how many times he tried to escape when Philza or Technoblade put their guards down. Each attempt had been a failure that left him trapped in his room for weeks before he was trusted enough to regain some freedom. And eventually, Wilbur gave up.
It felt wrong to admit, leaving an unshaking sour feeling in his gut. But it was the truth. Wilbur has given up all hope of escaping the Syndicate, escaping his coven. Every idea, every attempt was met with immediate failure, and even now that he was pretty much fully fledged he knew he had no chance against the older members of his coven.
The only thing keeping his feeble efforts to escape going was getting back to Tommy, and now Tommy was here , with him and the rest of their coven. He had no other reason to fight a losing battle for freedom, he had his brother back.
Apparently after his disappearance, Tommy had taken no time to join the Organization and cause an uproar in the vampiric community. Wilbur still remembers how he'd first found out, eavesdropping on a conversation between Philza and another coven head. Philza had scolded him afterwards, but elaborated on the conversation after prodding from his changeling.
Tommy had managed to make quite a name for himself in the year Wilbur was gone, having an impressive killstreak that ranged from loners to several low-ranking covens, all in an attempt to find him.
Philza had assured Wilbur he had plans of capturing the little hunter and killing him, but Wilbur had been quick to realize that this hunter was Tommy . Their descriptions matched, and Wilbur knew Tommy more than anyone else ever could and ever would. He could imagine the burning hatred of vampiric society his little brother must've developed, the angry need for vengeance that must've consumed him every day he was alone. It was why he hadn't even told Philza and Techno he had a brother, too scared of what they would do to Tommy.
Surprisingly though, Wilbur barely needed to beg Philza, and his sire had sworn Tommy wouldn't be killed, and instead be retrieved to become a member of the Syndicate, of the family.
Both the human and vampire part of Wilbur had rejoiced at that, at the thought of his baby brother safe with him and the rest of their coven. But Philza had warned him that Tommy’s… outburst against their kind wouldn't go unpunished.
Philza had refused to elaborate on that part when Wilbur asked, leaving him scared for his brother's fate when taken in.
It was why he had volunteered to retrieve Tommy, providing the fact that Tommy would trust him and thus be far more compliant than with Techno or Phil as reasoning. Philza had made it clear this was a chance to prove to him he could be trusted, and Wilbur knows he broke that trust by turning Tommy. But coven bonds go both ways, and Wilbur knows neither Philza nor Technoblade would be able to hurt Tommy if he was turned, a permanent part of the coven. It was the only way to ensure his brother's safety, and thus Wilbur was uncaring of the consequences he'd face for turning the boy.
The elevator doors opened with a short ding and Wilbur stepped into the hall, reaching the locked door to the penthouse. He took a deep breath, shuddering as his hold on Tommy tightened. He knocked on the door, hearing the sound of movement from inside the apartment before the door opened to reveal his sire.
Philza's red eyes scanned over him and the sleeping Tommy in his arms, nodding approvingly as he beckoned for Wilbur to enter. Wilbur obliged, giving no protest as Philza's gaze moved to the couch in the lounge, signaling for his changeling to sit. Wilbur did so as Philza joined his side, pupils growing wide as his red eyes landed on Tommy.
As if the sleeping boy felt the vampire's eyes boring into him, Tommy let out a quiet whine, pressing closer against Wilbur. Wilbur immediately tightened his grip, instincts flaring as he let out reassuring rumbles to comfort his changeling. Philza watched the exchange wordlessly, only tilting his head curiously.
"Is this him?" His sire asked, and Wilbur nodded. Philza reached toward, running clawed fingers through the changeling's hair, cooing softly. Wilbur smiled, a hint of nervousness curling in his chest. He knew Philza was going to discover what he'd done, and he didn't know how his sire would react. He felt awfully like a small child who'd been too careless and now had to hide the consequences of his actions from his parents. They would be discovered sooner rather than later, but his stupid naivety wanted to believe he'd be able to get away with his mistake.
His consequences came when Philza gently tucked some of the boy's wet strands of hair away from being stuck to his neck, revealing the partially healed bite on Tommy’s skin. Even though most of the blood had been washed away by the heavy rain, the bite still clearly remained, a stark brand against Tommy’s pale, cold skin. Philza lifted his gaze to stare at Wilbur, who forced himself to maintain eye contact with his sire.
"Did you do this?" He asked, an anger in his eyes that Wilbur had never witnessed before. Wilbur nodded, suddenly feeling very ashamed. Philza's pupils narrowed into slits, a look that was a mix of enraged and concerned in his eyes even as his voice remained perfectly soft. He's had centuries to perfect control over his expressions, yet somehow this was enough that even the ancient struggled to disguise his feelings at what Wilbur has done. "Do you understand what you just did?"
"I couldn't let you hurt him." Wilbur defended, baring sharpened fangs. "You were going to hurt him." He hissed as Philza drew his hand away from the changeling, eyes softening.
"I would never." His sire swore. "We would've never hurt him, Wilbur. He's ours, as much as you are."
"He was a hunter." Wilbur said. "He was a hunter and you were going to kill him. "
"Until we found out he's ours , mate. I would've never let harm come to him."
"I thought-" Wilbur started, quieting as his sire cut him off.
"There would've been consequences, yes. But have my punishments ever hurt? " Philza asked, and Wilbur lowered his gaze in shame. Philza had never hurt him, no matter how many times he attempted to escape or hurt him. Sure, he'd be locked up in the nest or had to be supervised when outside of it, but Philza had made sure he knew he wouldn't be hurt. Wilbur.. he hadn't known that would extend to Tommy.
"You're not even fully fledged yourself, Will." Philza crooned softly. "You shouldn't have turned him, you're in no shape to have a changeling of your own, especially one turned young. Hell, even I wasn't planning on turning him anytime soon."
"What?" Wilbur’s eyes widened and he tilted his head, confused.
"Wilbur, how old is Tommy?" Philza inquired carefully.
"Sixteen," Wilbur answered carefully. "Why does that matter?" He asked, concerned as his sire's expression turned into one of panic.
" Shit , mate. He's far too young, younger than I thought." Philza cursed, looking at his changeling with fear in his eyes.
"What do you mean?"
"You can't turn a human that young, Wilbur. You can't. They're not even close to mature in human standards, what do you think will happen if they're turned? Vampires don't age." Philza said as Wilbur grit his teeth.
"What happens if they are turned young?" He asked.
"Their development both as a human and vampire is stunted. They're practically stuck as changelings in the early stage, unable to grow out of their instincts. Even once most of their traits come in and they're able to digest human blood, they're incredibly fragile. They operate more on instinct than any other vampire." Philza informed, and Wilbur’s eyes widened as he realized just how badly he screwed up. "You're not old enough to sire a changeling, let alone a runt ."
"Is..is it reversible?" Wilbur asked, holding Tommy close. Philza shook his head.
"Turnings aren't reversible, you know that as well as I do. However, sires can be changed early enough in a changeling's development." Philza said.
"What?"
"The bond between a sire and changeling is formed through the first few feedings, which usually happen over a few weeks. Tommy is freshly turned, as long as he is isolated from you and receives my blood and not yours, it's possible to get his instincts used to a new sire." The vampire informed. Wilbur’s instincts were immediately repulsed by the idea, his grip on Tommy growing tight and possessive. Philza's gaze was soft and pitying as he observed his changeling's reaction.
"Will, you know this is for both of your sakes." Philza assured, and logically, Wilbur knew he was right. Philza has sired two changelings already, and Wilbur knew Tommy would be well taken care of. "You'll be able to see him in a few weeks, once his instincts stop clinging to you as his sire. It'll be okay, mate." His sire comforted, chest rumbling soothingly in an attempt to calm his changeling's nerves.
Wilbur sighed, forcing himself to relax. He tilted his head slightly, exposing the faded scar of his own turning bite, before he relented and complied with his sire's idea and request. Philza opened his arms, and Wilbur gently moved Tommy to be held by the ancient. Philza smiled approvingly, tucking the still-asleep changeling close with a rumble. Wilbur frowned, slumping against the soft fabric of the couch. He was.. tired. It wasn't even from the fact he'd walked more today than he had in an entire year he spent stuffed in the nest. There was a sudden exhaustion that weighed down on him almost as much as the guilt of what he had condemned his brother to.
God, Tommy. He peeked slowly at the sleeping figure of his brother, his face pale as he curled up in Philza's arms as if he belonged there.
Which he did now, Wilbur supposed.
Wilbur grit his teeth. He'd turned Tommy under the assumption he'd be protecting him, but the turning would now cause irreversible damage to his brother, and it turned out that even if he hadn't turned him, Tommy would've been okay. He'd ruined the boy's chance at a normal life as a human or vampire, permanently stunting his development and leaving him trapped in growing instincts.
Philza seemed to notice his distress, frowning slightly as he reached forward to ruffle Wilbur’s hair. Wilbur learned into the contact with a whine, content as Philza tucked him close until he too rested against his sire's chest, right beside Tommy. Phil gently brought a hand to run through Wilbur’s curls in an attempt to calm his changeling. Wilbur sighed, slumping in the vampire's hold and pressing close to Tommy. The boy seemed distressed, even while asleep. Wilbur could empathize. He remembered his own transformation in a foggy blur of pain and discomfort and his body grew to accept its new, inhuman nature. Tommy was going through that, with the horrible added bonus of stunted development. He frowned.
Philza held him close, hold tightening as he again seemed to sense Wilbur being upset. "He'll be fine, mate." He assured, a benevolent smile on his face as Wilbur tilted his head to look up at the ancient.
"I messed up, didn't I?" Wilbur whispered, voice barely above a whisper. Philza nodded, Wilbur’s frown deepening at the confirmation from his sire.
"You did," Philza began, speaking once more as he noticed his changeling grow even more upset at that. "But you did do the right thing in the end, you brought him home. I'm proud of you for that." The vampire continued with a faint smile, a painful comfort that both calmed and hurt Wilbur even more.
Yes, he'd finally brought his brother home. Tommy was finally safe, curled up alongside him and his sire. He knew even Techno would get along with the changeling, for all his intimidating facade his brother was caring and protective of their coven as much as Phil was.
Tommy would be safe here, Tommy would be loved and wanted.
But as he remembered the look in Tommy’s eyes when he had turned him, so full of betrayal and hurt, Wilbur wondered if he had truly done the right thing.