I think you should probably hug me right now

[Jack Ripley]

Why?

How? How could the answer be so simple? Because. Because he did. But love wasn't a panacea. It couldn't cure everything. It couldn't erase the horrors of the past. It couldn't even fix the things Jack so desperately wanted to fix about himself. But somehow, it fixed something. He didn't even know how to describe that part to Brayden. How important he'd become. How somehow, he'd actually changed something, healed something, fixed some part of his darkness without even knowing it was there.

Because truly, it was no longer there. The desire to save beloved, lovely, beautiful people. He knew... it didn't save. It just made things worse. For everybody. For their families, for the people who really loved them, for him, for every future relationship Jack forged with his sins caving him in. It fixed absolutely nothing for anybody.

And his pain had become Brayden's. Brayden was in so much pain over him. Jack never heard him cry like that, never heard him sound like that. He hated it. He hated making Brayden cry. He hated making him shake like he shook. He hated bringing him down into the darkness with him, when he should have been the light. Jack turned toward him for the first time since his awful admission. Fear had never been so strong in him as it was in that moment.

"Please... please..." Jack pleaded, his hands going to Brayden's face, to the tears that stained his cheeks. Pressing his forehead to Brayden's as his chest ached and exploded and burned and tore apart. "Please don't cry, Brayden. I'm so sorry I dragged you into this. I tried... I want so much more for you... believe me, you don't deserve any of this."

Brayden would never, ever hurt anybody. He would never. And now he was dragged into his darkness. It wasn't fair. It had never been fair to Brayden. He should have broken his heart before this, before he got so involved with him.

[Brayden Smith]

Love had never hurt like this before, not for Bray who had grown accustomed only to the sweetness and the tenderness of a mother's love, the true love of a close childhood friend, that pure love for others simmering away in his heart. Even when those people didn't reciprocate, and even when it hurt him so, so badly, it never felt like this before. It never felt like he was being torn apart at the seams.

And so he learned the other side of love, that dark, dark torturous side that drove people to do truly horrible things--in the name of love.

The light had to create darkness, though. Without darkness there was no light. Being exposed only to the light, it was easy to believe only that love was good and kind and healing. He thought he knew what it was to love, but it wasn't so. Bray only knew what it felt like to be loved. He didn't know... what it felt like to love someone to the degree that he loved Jack.

He couldn't fathom the depths of that pain, the despair, of having truly given everything he had to his love.

That was why he cried. He cried for his lost innocence, for Jack's lost innocence, for the fact that they could never, ever go back. Jack tried to warn him. He said it himself, he tried to warn Bray that there was no way to go back.

"We can never go back. You understand that... right?"

And he nodded, in his naivete, he said yes, he understood. He didn't want to ever go back to that loneliness and that isolation. He needed Jack to be in his life because even then, it was already too late to say no. Bray's heart was already his by then and everything that happened afterwards... He didn't regret. Even in this, there was no regret. He didn't wish he could go back and say no--no, he didn't want to be with Jack any longer. The thought never even occurred to him. Not now, not ever.

"No Jack, no," he sobbed, gulped, gasped like a dying man. "No no I--I..." Bray clung to him. He buried his face into the crook of Jack's neck and he held him tighter than he had ever held anyone or anything before. "I love you. I want to be with you." No going back now. No bridge behind him, no path. He--they--could only keep marching forward because the future couldn't be as dark as this moment.

"I need to be with you. And-and you need to be with m-me."

[Jack Ripley]

The bandaid had been ripped. And Jack wished he could say it was a relief. It wasn't. Everything hurt so much. Every part of him, from the inside out. His soul felt like a physical thing and it hurt. All of it hurt. For Brayden and for himself. What if he just told him from the beginning, before they got so tangled up in one another? Before they fell in love? But... he'd told himself this before and he had to tell himself again that there was no way to go back. There was no way to never come to Hazleton, there was no way to fix all the things he'd inadvertently broken upon coming here.

And yet... he still felt like he should. It was self flagellation at its finest; Jack could never forgive himself. In his wake, were literal bodies. Left behind, snuffed out. And he was the reason they didn't exist anymore. He was the reason they were only epitaphs now. It was unbearable to know that.

He wanted to talk about it. He wanted to tell Brayden. The first time was an accident. And it broke him. It really broke him. For days, he said nothing. He didn't know what to do. So he buried him and he let his family keep looking for him and he quietly moved away and he thought that was the last of it, that it would never, ever happen again. And then he was in a new relationship. A few years down the line. He thought he was in love. He did love him. But in love... it turned out, was something else.

He wanted... to share these people with Brayden. So they might live again. They would never be truly here. On this plane of existence. They died, they were gone, on to the next life, maybe, gone to another place. If heaven was real, they were there. If the dead became stars, they were up there, right now, looking down at them. (Fuck, he didn't like that one right now--it was downright creepy.)

But he wasn't ready. Jack wasn't ready. Brayden sure as hell wasn't ready. It was a bombshell. Even if Brayden had an inkling from his nightmares. God. He must have felt the horror, then. Walking through his nightmares as him. He must have seen it all. And maybe that was why. Why he... understood. Why he... could forgive. Jack didn't deserve it but it was there. It was staring him in the face without admonishment or hate, without fear without horror without condemnation. Jack didn't understand. But he held him anyway. He held him as Brayden buried his wet face in the crook of his neck. And Brayden held him, too. So tight. So tight that it hurt. So tight that there was no way not to feel it in him, every beat of his heart, every shake of his sobs, every drop of love. For him.

Jack held tight, too. He squeezed his eyes shut so hard that it hurt, too. Like everything else. His face felt raw. His lungs, his nose. And he realized there was no armor left at all. There were no walls. This was it. This was Jack as naked as a newborn. Raw. Every. Ugly. Nasty. Flaw.

I just want to die.

I want to die.

I deserve to die.

He lowered his head, eyes still closed tight, tight, tight. Against every demon, every bad thought, every echoing voice.

Everything.

Went dark.

"Dude... Just take it," Keith said, holding out his palm. "It'll calm you down."

Jack stared at him with complete mistrust in his gaze. His left eye was so swollen he could barely even see out of it. His hoodie was over his head, shoulders hunched like he wanted to make himself smaller. A dark curl of hair hung in his good eye but he didn't bother shaking it away.

The pair stood beneath the bleachers at their high school. Rain drops hit the metal like hard, wet slaps. Jack flinched whenever a spare drop passed through and touched him.

"Just fucking take it." Keith reached over and grabbed Jack's chin, forcing his mouth open and shoving the pill in. Automatically, he swallowed it. There was a slightly bitter aftertaste. He stepped away from Keith, wiping his mouth.

"What was that?"

"I told you, Ripper. It'll calm you down."

He woke up in the dark. Soaked. Lying on his side in a puddle. Squinting, blinking back the rain in his eyes. Jack sat up. His hoodie hung half off his shoulder and he pulled it up, useless as it was. He had no idea where the fuck he was but he felt like he'd been hit by a train. Dragging himself to his feet, he realized he was out back behind the liquor store, a few blocks from home. His vision blurred and he staggered a step forward before smacking his shoulder and side against the chainlink fence nearby. He grasped on to stay on his feet, but his legs felt weak.

And then he saw him. The boy. With the tousled sandy hair. A vision of him smiling at him in the hallway. Jack winking, and the boy gave him a shy little wave.

"A-Andy?" Jack let go of the fence, slid to his knees.

They met up at lunch. Jack took his hand. Smiled as they disappeared into the empty science lab. Jack knew which classes were empty for lunch, which ones were safe to hang out in during certain periods. They kissed. Andy was shy--at first. But he was a quick study. He had a crooked little smile but the purest eyes Jack had ever seen. A stormy greyish blue. They lit up when he smiled.

Now they were dim. Staring back at him, lifeless. Jack wrapped his arms around himself before bending forward and throwing up.

"What the hell did you do, Ripper?" Keith's voice said from behind him. Jack turned wildly around to see him walking forward, scuffed sneakers splashing carelessly in the rain.

"I didn't do anything. I didn't do this. I don't even know how I got here. Or what time it is. What's happening? Keith, what the fuck is--"

"You killed him, you sick fuck."

The words were damning knives into his skull. He shook his head as he turned away from the body. And Keith just nodded.

"I watched you do it." Keith finally came to a stop in front of Jack. "I saw. Every. Single. Moment. Jack."

With a sharp gasp, Jack opened his eyes. Breathing heavily, eyes wild, his head shot up. He was still in a tight embrace. His heart beat rapidly, his head wanted to explode. He pushed back, hands grasping onto shoulders.

"Brayden?"

Brayden. He was still there, holding onto him. His heart still kept racing, the fear still clinging to him. The cobwebs of his past. Jack caressed his face, hardly believing it to be true. Real. He was there. Very real. Very human. Or very fairy. Whatever, it didn't matter. He was here. Jack rested his forehead against Brayden's. "I love you. I love you so much." He kissed him. Closed his eyes. Breathed him in. He felt like he could hardly breathe. Only shallow breaths, like he couldn't catch his breath.

[Brayden Smith]

This couldn't be the end.

It couldn't be the end of their story, terminating abruptly even before it truly began. Wasn't it only this morning that he was on his knees, watching Jack walk away? Wasn't it earlier that morning that they walked out of his apartment hand-in-hand, to that cute little cafe for brunch, and then out to the park? There he thought he had learned more about Jack but that was a fraction of what still laid buried underneath.

Secrets.

So many secrets left to uncover.

Bray shook against Jack as the emotions started to drain away and as the sobs slowed and then quieted. Jack was quiet too, oddly still. Bray didn't dare lift his head for a long, long while. Hours maybe. Or mere minutes. Time had no meaning and no relevance in that painful moment when all they could do was grasp on to each other. The horror had yet to dawn on Bray yet—not fully. This too was the tip of the iceberg. This was the beginning of the realization that the man he loved was... was a...

A murderer.

And every particle of Bray that was good and kind and taught only to share love was horrified.

"J-Jack?" All of a sudden Jack pushed him back, grappled with him as though he couldn't believe Bray was here. And Bray stared at him with wide, surprised eyes—jolted out of his sadness for a moment. A chorus of I love yous fell from Jack's lips and his heart lurched sickeningly in his chest. It responded just as strongly as it did earlier that day to the words, to the sincerity and the desperation behind them.

"I... I love you too," he breathed, breathing Jack in too. Bray kissed him again, again, again. His hands pulled at Jack, pulled him close, kept him close. "We-we'll find a way past this Jack," Bray whispered in desperation, grasping at straws. "Jack... Jack..."

[Jack Ripley]

It

it


it just didn't make sense.

Jack's mind was racing. He didn't understand it. There used to be

there was this image in his mind.

There used to be this image in his mind.

With Andy.

They kissed. Andy fought with him. He killed him. It was an accident.
It was an accident.

But it wasn't.

Because it didn't happen the way it was in his head.

How did he know this? Where was it coming from? Jack's mind kept racing. His heart kept racing. It wouldn't stop. It wouldn't stop. What was happening to him?

Jack tried to catch his bearings. He touched Brayden's face again. Real. Real as anybody else was. Real and beautiful. And just... he was so... Jack's fingertips traced the tears he'd put on his face. The pain inside was also real and so deep it felt like he'd never be able to feel anything else again. Jack kissed him again. His fingertips roved over those lips afterward. And his own lips quivered slightly, his eyes were bright. But he smiled even though there were tears threatening to spill over again and again and again.

"...B... Brayden... I just saw something. I think it's you. You're doing something to me and it's opening my eyes." He bit his own lip and pulled away from Brayden, sitting back with the dawning realization that all those racing thoughts were unraveling because something else inside had unraveled, too. He stared into the distance as he thought it over, tried to make sense of it all.

For so long, he had lived with this horror and this guilt. But if he was truly capable of those things... how could he keep doing them? It... It just didn't make sense. It didn't make

sense.

so what

did it

mean

what did it mean what did it mean what did it mean

Paranoia crept over him now. It was crawling up his spine and then down his back. He looked around them. At the beautiful scenery, at how... alone they were. Jack suddenly got to his feet, then shook his hand towards Brayden a couple of times, urging him to take his hand.

"Let's get out of here. Now. We can't be here."

[Brayden Smith]

"Jack?" Why was he smiling? Why was there that strange light of realization and hope in his eyes? Bray didn't understand. He... he didn't understand at all. What was there to smile about? To be happy about? Bray felt as if he could never be happy again. The weight of Jack's confession was so heavy over his shoulders, over his heart.

"What?" Jack was not making sense. Bray tried to wrap his head around what he was saying—something about Bray doing things to him—as Jack suddenly grew alarmed and sprang to his feet. Bray stood too, mystified. Baffled. He was truly baffled by Jack's erratic behavior and maybe... maybe the strain of his admissions had gotten to him.

He nodded and began to gather their things to pack away. "O-okay Jack. We should probably head back..." There was a rustling in the bushes nearby. A small animal? Bray peered hard into the darkness but he couldn't make out much. The fine hairs at the back of his neck stood on end as he remembered that wolves patrolled the area and very quickly he shoved the blankets away and grabbed onto Jack's hand.

"Let's go home Jack." Bray started off down the path, glad that it was only a short walk back to civilization. "I'll call an uber."

[Jack Ripley]

"Yeah," he said, still looking around, not liking that they were out here... all alone... all... alone... He grasped Brayden's hand tighter, stopped. Drew him closer. There was a sound. Like... the scrape of a boot against small, loose stones.

"...Ripper... there you are..."

A cold, smooth voice. Cold, steel eyes. He was standing there. On the trail back down, he stood there as cool and calm as a snake, waiting to strike. The last time Jack ever saw him--that he remembered--Keith was back in Boston. In high school. But they said he died. Shot in some gang related violence that took another young life. Jack never saw him again. Again... not that he remembered.

Now he stood here, an adult. All grown up. But the eyes were the same. The tone of his voice was the same. That ugly smirk was the same. But he'd put on some bulk, some muscle. He was tall. For a little while in junior high, Jack was taller--he had a growth spurt. But as they grew older, in high school, Keith started to get taller, to fill out.

"And who's this...?" Keith asked as he made a step toward Brayden. Jack immediately put himself between the two.

"Back off."

"Brayden Smith," Keith said. "We've met." He smiled and he almost looked friendly. "Philip McKellan. Remember me? I work with the superintendent. I asked you to dinner and you turned me down." His gaze flicked over Jack, from head to toe and back. "Said you had... other plans."

[Brayden Smith]

"What?" Bray turned toward the voice that came out of absolutely nowhere, startled. He stared at the man who walked out of the shadows, unable to make out his features at first. That oily, smooth voice... It sent a shiver down Bray's spine. He felt magic, too, in the air and he instinctively edged closer to Jack. But Jack was placing himself in front, as Bray reached out to hold a fistful of his coat, unsure as to what... this was all about.

"Ph-Phil? Of course. I-I remember you..."

There had been a smiling, friendly, warm man who arrived with the superintendent and who returned after that initial visit. Bray and he looked over the paperwork quite carefully to make sure everything matched up, and over the course of a few hours he became quite comfortable in his presence. He remembered smiling dark eyes and—magic. The same magic that he felt now, only not as strong as back then in his office.

Philip did ask him out to dinner but Bray politely declined. He did have other plans that night. He... it was game night. The card game he convinced Jack to play with him sat in his bag hanging behind the door of his office. Bray remembered glancing towards it and thinking of Jack, of a quiet evening in with some popcorn and lemon water.

So he said no—that he was sorry, but he was busy. He didn't offer to go to dinner with Philip another time because his heart already yearned for another man and he couldn't, wouldn't, compromise on his feelings. Bray didn't want anyone other than Jack and it was as simple as that.

"Do you know each other?" He asked tentatively as he felt the magic surge. Angry magic. Bray's breath came in sharply as his free hand curled into a fist. Magic—he had it too. Illusory magic, dream magic and sleep magic. There was a surprised look on Philip's face for a moment before he smirked again.

"A fairy, Ripper? Still looking for that fairy tale ending, hm?" He appeared amused by his own pun.

[Jack Ripley]

"His name's not Phil," Jack said, his voice tight. "It's Keith Hargrove."

And he was... angry. So angry. Always angry. He couldn't stand that Jack was a flirt. There had always been this air of possession about him, from the moment they met, all the way back in junior high school. Keith was his first boyfriend. The first person he called boyfriend. The first to call Jack boyfriend.

But he had a nasty temper and he'd grown up in the same sort of life that Jack did. Poor. A mother that was hardly home because she was a single parent and always working. Always scrapping, down for a fight, it made him feel good, he said. To get his feelings out. Jack said it reminded him of his father. And Keith told him all guys like you have daddy issues... and as he pulled his hair, he whispered, but that's okay, you can call me daddy.

Jack felt sick all over just looking at him again. He was... supposed to be dead. Back in high school. Gang violence. That wasn't... real? Was anything Jack knew real?

"Why does it even matter to you? We haven't dated since we were sixteen."

"Oh, it matters. It's always mattered...." He practically purred. Something was off. Jack couldn't tell what it was. Just that... something didn't feel right.

"What are you? Some kind of warlock?"

Okay, so Jack didn't know much about magic. He was just learning about this whole new world. Hell, just on the way up this ridge, he was getting a little lesson in it from Brayden himself. There were werewolves. Was he one of those? Jack looked at him, not even conscious of the fact that it was the same mistrusting look he'd given on the day he'd supposedly murdered Andy Davis.

"No, actually. I'm," said Keith with a terrible smirk and a tilt of the head, "a fairy, too."

[Brayden Smith]

(Omfg showdown between the MFing fairies. Step aside Jack, it's man mode time for Bee!)

"F-fae," Bray whispered at the same time that Phil—Keith spoke. Another fae. A powerful one at that, with a strong glamor. Bray could barely see through it, and he was strong too. Being gifted in illusions meant that he had the power of Sight, the ability to see beyond most glamors. His own, too, was extremely strong and not many saw through it. He barely struggled to maintain it; it kept itself up, drawing from the strength of his innate abilities.

Bray's mother, she was a powerful being. His father too—they came from a pureblood family. Fae lived together apart from humans; yet his parents left and they brought him here to Hazleton to live with humans. Why? His mother used to only smile at him and say that they wanted him to experience a full, complete world. They said that his heart could not learn to love if he only existed alongside his own kind, and by all accounts, the fae were extremely wary of and prejudiced towards other species of supernaturals.

They wanted him to love everyone, beings of all walks of life.

But in this man Keith, Bray saw nothing. No love. Only... anger and hatred, thinly veiled behind his sneering demeanor. He swallowed hard as he stepped out a little more from behind Jack. "Please... leave us alone," he pleaded with the strange man, with his strange, savage smile and strange, hard eyes.

"I'm afraid I can't do that... Bee." The use of his pet name made a cold shudder run down Bray's spine. "You see, you... Oh you're so sweet, aren't you? So innocent. So... lovely. So, so lovely. Too lovely for this world... isn't that right, Ripper?" His tone was so smug that it made Bray feel physically ill.

[Jack Ripley]

(AHHHHHHHH)

No. No. Why was Brayden trying to step out? Away? Jack did his best to try and shield him, to keep him out of that bastard's line of sight. But all of his hatred and all of his anger were directed at him. And the way he spoke to him... He just couldn't stand it. That Jack was drawn to something that wasn't so dark and ugly. That he saw a smile and he smiled back. Jack was not all brooding and tortured; there was an innate lightness in him that Brayden somehow... had always seen.

And it attracted people. People that weren't... him. Keith. Phil. Whatever his real name was. He had always been like this. Possessive and prone to jealousy. Even before they said they were official, Keith used to sneer at the guys that Jack showed interest in. He dragged him into situations that threw them both into hot water. They would laugh about it later, what a close call, did you see his face?

Jack stared at Keith. The words that he used. Were a slap in his face. A punch to the gut. And oh, Keith knew. He knew how it hurt him and he knew why.

"...stop..."

"You just wanted to save them," Keith said, still oily smooth. "You begged for their lives. You begged on your knees and it. Was. Delicious. Every demand I made, you would do it for them. Not... that you had much... choice."

At the word choice, Jack was shoved down by an invisible force to one knee, as if bowing to a king. Then the other knee was shoved down.

"And there he is. My. Sullied. Pet."

Jack tried to pry himself up but he was well and stuck in place, as if vice grips bound his legs. Fear welled up in him. He hadn't seen the rest. He didn't know what he did, what trick he used, how he put it all on Jack. How he killed them. They were always just... dead. Like he'd blacked out. He thought he was crazy. I just wanted to save them. It took on such a different meaning now.

With a flick of his wrist, Keith struck Brayden with something. Some type of magic. Jack twisted, trying to see what was happening, trying to leap up, trying to do something--anything--other than bow there like a useless puppet. Then Keith was there, right in front of him, his hand viciously grasping onto his hair and forcing him to look up at him.

"Now what will you do for this one, I wonder?"

[Brayden Smith]

(IT'S BEE MODE TIME)

This man. He was insane.

Bray had never seen such a madness before in one person. Whatever grudge he held against Jack, whatever he was here to do, it was... it was evil. Pure evil intent shone out of him, a light that was disgusting and vile and inhuman. Something in him was so twisted as to make even his aura black. Fae were creatures of light but this one, he had fallen. He had fallen so far.

And his magic, it was black too, just like his intentions. Bray let out a soft cry as it lashed out at both of them, forcing Jack to his knees and temporarily freezing him in place. He struggled to free himself but was hampered by his glamor. It was like a wrapping, a coating all around him to contain his magical form. And it concealed his wings, too, which were the source of his magic; when they were hidden, Bray was limited in what he could do.

But Keith's wings were... they... weren't there. His glamor fell to allow him to use magic but he had no wings...? How? Bray stared at him aghast. No. It wasn't possible. To sacrifice his wings to... to become... something else. His heart jolted nastily right up into his throat. A fairy without wings, wielding black magic...

"Leave him alone!" His voice was shrill; he was frightened and unable to control his own voice. Bray struggled again, this time to let the glamor fall. It was so strong, which normally was good but in an emergency situation... not so much. Keith looked up at him with a vicious grin and Bray saw him tugging even harder on Jack's hair to force his head to turn towards Bray.

"Oh, look. Little... Tinkerbell over here thinks he can save you, Ripper. Isn't that just adorable." His hand flashed out again, fingers like claws; something red slashed into Bray's thigh like a whip, and a spray of blood landed on the path before them.

Bray let out a choked cry of pain but—but the glamor fell. His wings unfurled, bright and shining, enveloping him like a shield against the next slash of magic. Bray held out a hand and painted sigils in the air. Sleep. Sleep, he willed Keith as his leg throbbed mercilessly and as blood coated his pant leg. Sleep.

Keith backed away a pace, struck by an invisible force. His sneer turned ugly as he slashed again with a sigil of his own, fighting against Bray's attack. "Hah...ha... oh he's... not bad, Ripper. I'm going to have fun with him. And you're going to watch... every... thing..."

[Jack Ripley]

No matter how hard he struggled, Jack could not get himself back up on his feet. He felt like even his shoulders were being pushed downward, as if gravity was trying to push every part of him into the earth. His head was turned with a nasty tug and Jack was helpless as Brayden was attacked by some kind of whiplike form.

"No!" He tried again to get up but the hand in his hair twisted and yanked his head so far back that he couldn't see Brayden again. But something happened. Something pushed at Keith and he moved back a pace, still holding hard onto Jack's hair like a leash. Forcing him to look.

He saw light. Bright, pretty light. Ethereal light. If he didn't know Brayden was a fairy, he might have thought he was an angel just now. Fuck. Fuck. Keith spoke so arrogantly; he wasn't even a little afraid. And Brayden... beautiful, warm, loving Brayden...

"Brayden! Run! Run! Get of here! He's going to kill you!"

"Aw, look at him cry." Keith trailed a finger down the line of a tear and he licked it off his fingertip. Eyes half closed and he made an awful, erotic sound. Blood and tears had always turned him on. And he was laughing. Laughing at him. Laughing at Brayden.

"This is all so very... cute," Keith said, spitting the word cute out like it tasted rotten on his tongue. "But it's time... for the harvest. I've been waiting so long for this moment. Thankfully, my little Ripper here can't resist a pure little thing... like... you."

"Brayden, Brayden, please, he's going to kill you."

"He's right, you know. I am going to kill you. And I will devour your pure little soul."

"Ngghhh..." Jack made another valiant--and vain--attempt at getting up. It was like trying to push an unmoving boulder. But his hands... His hands could move. Presently, they were shaking, grasping at the earth beneath him. He reached up. Grabbed onto one of Keith's legs. Keith didn't even kick it off. His pure hatred was all focused on Brayden at the moment. He sliced through the air again with another one of those whiplike spells. Then he kicked Jack, squarely in the chest so that he fell onto his back. But he didn't let go of his hair, no. He pulled him forward with him as he moved toward Brayden.

Another of those slashes and the blood spattered across Jack's face. Shock coursed through his entire body and he convulsed, kicking at the dirt.

"Brayden..."

Keith reached out and made a squeezing motion with his hand.

"I will suffocate you, tear you into shreds, and devour you," he reiterated to Brayden. "I've never tasted another fairy before so this... will be... interesting."

[Brayden Smith]

No.

For so much of his life, Bray ran. He ran from his feelings, from social obligations, ran away from people who tried to get close to him because he was afraid that if they got too close, when--not if--they left they would open the hole in his heart even more. Yet, he couldn't help himself. People got close; some left, some stayed. It was never a guarantee who would be here one day, gone the next, and Bray... he was always afraid, always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

With Jack, there was no fear. No, there was... some strange kind of power. He was emboldened in Jack's presence, he could be brave and silly and affectionate. He could be all the things that he saw in others that he had never discovered in himself. And tonight, he was brave. He could be brave because this was the time, if ever there was one, to shed his fear and to shine.

The air around him trembled even as he trembled, as he gathered up every drop of magic in the air, in the trees. Here he had the advantage--he had his wings. He was still connected to nature and to the earth, to the living things that existed all around them. A Fallen like Keith--for he was, indeed, a Fallen--couldn't draw upon that power. The power of life. All he had was death at his back, forming the black void where something wonderful used to be.

"You won't!" Bray's voice returned. It was forceful, like the time he said no in the cafe to a threesome, like that moment in the park when he told Jack that he needed to remember--Bray was here for him. He was here and he wasn't going away. He wasn't backing down from someone without a shred of light in him. Darkness could never defeat the light; it was banished at the smallest ray of illumination.

The light shone and shone, shimmered and shivered. Bray weathered the cuts and the slashes, the attacks that beat at him and tore at his clothes, rent his flesh, drew blood. Warm blood seeped down his body from a dozen cuts but he didn't stop gathering magic, didn't stop storing it up and up and up, up and over his threshold. The things Keith were saying, the cruelty he showed to Jack, it made Bray angry. Well and truly angry--and that was very, very rare.

"He--Jack is... is mine!"

Jack didn't belong to anyone but if he had to--if he absolutely had to--then he belonged to Bray. Not to this monstrosity that called himself a fairy. He wasn't fit to speak the name! Making deals with devils, giving away all that was pure and good in him in exchange for power, that was vile. Evil. He didn't deserve someone as warm and sweet, funny, tender, loving and caring as Jack.

He was at his limit now, he could feel it. Keith kept gloating, licking his lips as if he could taste Bray's soul, advancing and dragging Jack with him by the hair. Bray's body, his wings, they were in tatters but--he had enough power. And he unleashed it, a hurricane of light and life, desperation and love. It swept through the trees with physical force, shoving Keith back and consuming him in a blinding, brilliant white light that illuminated the night. The stars above vanished. Everything was white, fire, heat and silence.

"My little Bee. Did you bring a friend this time?"

He was back at his mother's feet again, sitting staring up at her with his wide, brown eyes. Brown-gold eyes, flecked with magic. Bray smiled and looked over at the other young boy with him, one with curly dark hair and sparkling hazel eyes and a mischievous mouth. "His name is Jackie, mama."

[Jack Ripley]

He was going to die. He was going to die before they even really had a chance to be anything. He was going to die because he knew Jack, because Jack fell hopelessly, foolishly, recklessly in love with him. Even though he knew--thought--there was a sickening darkness growing inside of him. But it was never him. It was planted there. All this time...

They never got to be anything. Jack couldn't stop the emotions now that his armor had fallen from his heart. All he could think was did he know did he know did he know how much how true how how how... His smile and his laugh and his confusion, that look he got on his face when he was trying to decide if Jack was being serious, when he couldn't tell he was being flirted with. Just that morning, he saw that look. Just that morning, he saw that smile. Heard that laugh.

His blood was on his face, on his chest. He couldn't handle it.

The joy and relief, the lightness he felt when it dawned on him that he wasn't a killer after all. He never even got to explain himself. Brayden wasn't in love with a murderer. Jack... did he... could he... maybe did he deserve Brayden after all? His eyes closed painfully. Brayden. Wonderful, soft, awkward, stubborn, hopeful, uplifting Brayden.

"...b-brayden... please..."

For some reason, Brayden wasn't stopping. It was that stubbornness. That loyalty. That... love. Jack's eyes cracked open but it was so hard when he was so full up on erratic, uncontrollable emotion. Keith's oily, harsh laugh echoed in his ears.

But then...

Jack is... is mine!

No... What was he doing? Brayden... he was so... so self-sacrificing for the people he loved. And Jack knew that meant him. And that meant... it meant... No...

The tight hand in his dark curls loosened finally and then let go. Jack's head smacked hard against the ground, enough to taste blood where he'd bitten the inside of his cheek. Through half closed eyes, he saw the blinding light and it blinded him too. He closed his eyes even as he took in a hard, painful breath.

And when he opened his eyes.

The woman in front of them was beautiful. Her smile was gentle, her eyes warm. Her eyes were so like... so like his. Jack stared too. Then he lifted his hand, a little dazed, a little confused. "Hi."

The armor was just being built at this age. But he usually rolled with the punches. He smiled that mischievous smile. "I'm Jack. Or... Jackie," he said with a nonchalant shrug, "whatever." He looked at her longer. "Mrs. Smith?" He didn't know why he knew that name. He just knew it. And for some reason, he also knew he really, really wanted her to give him a big hug.