Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Listen, Tommy isn’t a bad guy.

People can think what they want, that’s fine. The fact that people fear him is understandable after what he's done. It makes sense, and he’s trying not to be upset about that - because he knows he’s a good guy deep down.

(He has to be.)

He cares deeply about everyone, everything. His aunt used to tell him that his heart was too big, and that it’d get him hurt when he grew up.

That was before he got taken from her by one of the strongest vampire covens in today’s existence. Apparently his family owed them something that they couldn’t give, and Tommy was the payment to make up for it.

So he was taken from his home and everything he once knew and held dear, just to be thrown into the world of supernaturals and blood bags without a say in the matter. He became nothing more than a lost little boy forced into working for immortal beings hundreds of years older than him.

He hadn’t been allowed to even utter his human family’s names after that; it was strictly forbidden by the coven.

Tommy never understood why they wanted some random human boy in the first place, but he rolled with the punches - both the figurative ones and the literal ones - and soon enough he hadn’t seen his aunt in months. Sometimes he’d gaze at the stars and wonder if she was looking at them too.

Then he realised she was living on a human sleep schedule, unlike the one Tommy had to pick up in order to complete the tasks the vampires set for him, so she’d probably be sleeping.

Trying to fit himself into the vampire’s sleep schedule was a difficult adjustment, but eventually he grew used to waking at dusk and settling down for bed at dawn. It was rare that he got to see the sun at its peak anymore, but that’s okay. He’s alive. He could appreciate that, at least.

Tommy stayed with the coven for a long while.

What else could he do? Where else could he go that would be safe from them? They’d hunt him down if he tried to leave, that was made very clear. He had no options, no real opportunities for escape that weren’t simple taunts disguised as jokes.

For a short while, he thought that they kept him around because they cared about him. He believed that maybe they grew attached to him, and that’s why he wasn’t allowed to leave. He held out hope that he was loveable.

He was wrong. At least, in all the ways that mattered.

(If they truly cared, they wouldn’t have done what they did next.)

And so, a couple months down the line, Tommy should’ve seen it coming.

He should’ve known they’d want him to be like them. That they’d make plans to turn him into one of them.

But he was just a dumb kid, stolen from his previous life, longing to feel love again. To grasp on to any sense of normalcy - even a fake one.

Little did he know, it’d only get worse from there on out.

After the head of the coven turned Tommy into a monst- a vampire a few months into his stay there, things changed. The occasional hit turned into spilled blood that healed fast enough for an immediate round two. The fake smiles turned into sneers. Serenely sweet words morphed into “Come on! You’re a vampire now, you can handle a little pushing around.”

Tommy was no longer treated as the fragile human - that they could take a few frustrations out on here and there - that they saw him as before. No, now he was an invincible punching bag, and it was terrifying.

Sure he had super healing now, but it still hurt. He didn’t lose his ability to feel pain when they forcibly took his humanity from him.

When they eventually grew tired of this routine of abuse, his sire tossed him out onto the streets.

He said that Tommy grew too quiet and withdrawn for his liking; nothing like the little spitfire they stole all those months ago. They claimed that this meant he was not vampire material at all, and if he couldn’t handle a hit or two, or even stand up for himself, then he didn’t deserve a place in their coven.

“Because vampires are not weak.” his sire had told him.

That phrase stuck with Tommy during his time on the streets.

The months were spent alone, agonisingly trying to keep his hunger at bay for as long as he could, forcing down the urge to feed until the very last minute; until he couldn’t take it any longer. Until his skin began to grey and he needed to eat. Now-now-blood-now.

Then he’d be unable to resist feeding on humans that pass by his alley as his hunger draws speckles of red into his eyes.

At least, he thinks, trying to stay positive, at least the fresh blood will keep him stronger for longer like his sire had told him all that time ago.

And after he had that thought, it solidified in his brain; he needs fresh human blood to survive - and not just that, he needs it to thrive. If he stands any chance out here alone as a scorned fledgling, he needs to drink from the vein. Blood bags won’t keep him strong enough to fight back should any threats arise. (In a typical coven, the fledglings are protected with the elder’s lives, but Tommy’s story is far from typical. And he doesn’t think anyone will ever want to protect him. Not now that he’s a monster.)

He remembers a time when his sire told him a story about the war between a group of vampires who drank from blood bags, and the traditional vampires who drank from the vein. He was in his sire’s - the coven leader’s - main office as he read it to him. They sat together on the fabric couch as the older told and retold the story; a rare moment of serenity between the two.

He told him that the vein vampires overpowered the others hugely; they grew in strength and numbers while the blood bag drinkers dwindled, withering away. Too weak to withstand the traditional vampires who stood at their full height; who reached their highest potential with blood from the vein - the way it’s supposed to be.

Tommy vowed that day to always drink from the vein. He had to be strong if he wanted to survive out here by himself, especially with the approaching winter (he’s still not sure if vampires can get hypothermia, but he’s not very willing to test it out).

Too bad that this is exactly what gets him caught.

——

Wilbur and Techno are out investigating the increased number of missing person cases that have been neighbouring their town for the past few months, at their father and coven leader’s - Phil’s - request. They’d send the humans out to do it, but Phil claims that it’s not safe for them right now. Not when the cause of these missing people could still be out there.

He isn’t sure what they’re dealing with quite yet, and until they find a body, they’re flying through clouds of visionless fog. So they’d been taking the investigation fairly slow, just in case it’s a werewolf or another Child of the Moon that could bring serious harm to the vampires if they step onto any claimed territory of theirs.

A few seconds after they pass a flickering street light, Techno sniffs the air, tensing immediately. “I smell blood.”

“Why would someone be bleeding? The crime rates have been down since we moved here. There hasn’t been a stabbing since a year into our first stay here. Forty years ago.” Wilbur, the absolute criminology nerd, supplies.

“Probably the same reason that no one can find those other people.” Techno answers quietly, creeping to look around the duo for any sign of a threat.

“But then why can’t anyone find them? There have been no bodies, or even signs of kidnapping or forced entry with each of the people. Trust me, I’ve looked into it. They just seem like random disappearances.”

In lieu of answering, Techno simply points ahead towards a shadowed alley and whispers. “This way.”

Wilbur ignores his brother, rolling his eyes with an, “I know. I have super senses too idiot.”

Then, he follows.

——

Tommy had been waiting for this meal all week.

He was excited to finally eat (drink? He’s not sure. No one has ever really explained vampire terminology to him before) after not being able to for so long.

The humans had set a curfew after Tommy’s latest meals got a bit too frequent - something about keeping the town safe until they ‘solve the issue at hand’ - so Tommy lost his chances at getting fed before daylight for the entire week.

And, as much as he hates to admit it, he’s a younger vampire, so he needs blood a lot more frequently than that. He’s surprised he can even walk with how long it’s been since his last feed.

Luckily, this woman seems to be running late for said curfew. And walking directly into his trap.

“Help! Vampire!” He screams from the shadows. His acting skills have improved tremendously since he started using this tactic, and he can’t help but find pride in that fact, even though he’s ashamed that he has to do it in the first place.

(He makes an effort to never kill, but once he drinks from them, he threatens them to leave town. It’s cruel, but it’s the only way he can ensure they won’t get him caught by any other supernaturals. He’s too new of a vampire to Compel them into doing what he wants, but he threatens their lives if they don’t leave, and their family’s lives if they ever return.)

She heroically - stupidly - runs into the dim alleyway. The light doesn’t quite reach the walls here, just barely shining across the entrance, so he knows that she, with her human eyes, cannot see a thing.

But Tommy? Tommy’s heightened senses see her.

He can see her figure take a reluctant step forward. He can smell her caution as it smudges into fear, and he can hear her quiet call of “Hello?” as if it were a shout.

“Kid? Are you okay?” She whispers into the darkness. “Where are you?”

Tommy wastes no time. There isn’t a chance for her to even think about escaping. She flew into his delicately woven web and now there’s no way for her to escape. His sticky tricks have glued her to her demise.

She met her doom because she was stupid enough to care for a stranger calling for help. Pathetic.

(In reality, Tommy sort of envies that heroic mindset. He hopes that, in another life, he would’ve gotten a chance at becoming a hero too. Saving people, being a good person.

This whole villain thing doesn’t suit him. Or at least, it doesn’t suit who he used to be, when he was a human.

He hates that he’s become a monster now.)

He uses his super speed to zoom towards the entrance of the alleyway, effectively blocking her exit, before pouncing.

He almost feels bad, but then his instincts take over, and he can feel nothing but pure unbridled hunger.

It’s as he’s drinking (he decides that ‘drinking’ is the word that makes the most sense for this) her blood that it happens. Arms wrap around his waist, not quite pulling him away yet, but holding him securely. He hadn’t even heard anyone coming.

Then, a strong hand grips at Tommy’s cheeks and begins to lightly squeeze; not enough to hurt, but just enough that he feels the pressure of it and has no choice but to disattach his fangs from her skin. It’s a known tactic to keep fledglings from biting. To uncling them from places they aren’t supposed to be. It doesn’t work on grown vampires, but with fledglings? It works like a charm every time.

Stupid baby vampire teeth.

How did this random guy know he was a new vampire? Was Tommy really getting that sloppy?

(To be fair, he probably was. Tommy is starving.)

That’s when the arms pull him from the woman, who gasps and falls to the floor. Tommy tries to resist the grip on him, to make it back to the thrumming call of her blood-blood-blood, beating just for him, but it’s futile. His struggles amount to nothing.

It takes a full five minutes before he stops making attempts to lunge towards her; hunger clouding his rational thought.

The person who pulled him away from her holds him tight until the man in front of him grips at his wrist with the hand that isn’t keeping his fangs in check, and nods behind Tommy. Then, and only then, does the other guy reluctantly remove his arms from around his torso and rush to the human’s side, pulling a medkit from his bag.

Tommy meets the eyes of the person still squeezing the sides of his face, causing his mouth to hang open dumbly.

He probably looks like a goldfish - if goldfish had fangs and blood dripping from their mouth, that is.

“Don’t you know we don’t feed on humans here?” The guy asks, voice deep and authoritative. He has bubblegum pink hair tied into one loose braid, and a cloak tied around his shoulders, partially covering his white shirt.

His eyes are vermillion, which means that he’s a vampire.

A fully fledged vampire.

Tommy has had nothing but bad experiences with older vampires, so this revelation sets him on edge immediately.

(It’s ironic that he’s now the one causing the traumatic experiences with vampires for others, isn’t it?)

“No, clearly not.” Tommy recovers quickly, though it’s muffled since the guy’s hand is still clutching his face. Though it’s a lot less urgent than before, it’s still preventing Tommy from getting out of his grip via biting or startling the older man. If that would’ve worked in the first place.

The man looks like he’s afraid of nothing.

“Well we don’t feed on humans here kid.” He repeats dryly, trying to meet his eyes. “Are you new to town?”

Tommy ignores the question, instead asking one of his own. “Can you let go of me?”

“No. Are you new to town?”

Tommy has been here for… well, he hasn’t had an accurate show of time, but it’s been around a month if he had to guess. “Sure. I’m new to town.” He answers. “Now will you let go of me?”

“Still no.” The pink haired man says, before swiftly continuing, “We’ll let you off, for now. Are you the vampire that’s been feeding off of the villagers?” The man asks, something hiding in the tone of his voice. Like he knows the answer.

“Don’t all vampires feed off of humans?” Tommy quips back. Except for the weak blood bag drinkers, at least.

“No. A lot of us have morals.”

What do they do then? Just not drink anything at all?

“Your morals are gonna cause you to starve. Have fun starving, idiot.” Tommy quips before squirming once more. He tries everything - even attempting to turn to the side and shimmy out of the hold - but nothing works.

He really thought he’d be able to get out of the grip but this guy is holding on tight.

Once Tommy eventually stops struggling again, the man looks at him. He seems unimpressed.

“We don’t starve.” The man begins, as if nothing happened. And then Tommy is hit with a realisation. Oh prime. Don’t say it he thinks. “We drink from blood bags and willing volunteers. Not random people off of the street.” And… he said it.

So he's a blood bag drinker.

What makes that fact even worse is that Tommy can’t even almost get out of his grip.

Blood bag drinkers are weak, and Tommy is supposed to be strong, but he can’t escape his grip.

That’s… not great. The blonde really has fallen off, hasn’t he?

If a blood bag drinker is stronger than him, how is he going to cope against real, powerful vampires? He’s alone, and he probably will be for the rest of his eternal lifetime - however long that lasts if he can’t even stand up for himself against one bag drinker - so he really needs to get his act together.

He needs to be stronger. Even if that means more feedings fresh from the vein.

Instead of showing this thought process, Tommy looks the man up and down. “Wait. Let me get this straight. You’re a vampire who refuses to drink blood how it's supposed to be drunk?”

If he can’t escape his grip, he’ll at least make the man feel bad about himself until he can.

“There is no way it’s ‘supposed to be drank’, there’s just more moral ways to do it.” He responds blandly. “Here in Manburg, us vampires protect the humans in exchange for a healthy, consistent supply of blood from willing donors.”

“What.” Tommy’s voice is kind of muffled from where his cheeks are still being held to prevent him from biting anyone or anything he shouldn’t, so it sounds kind of flat and muffled when he speaks.

“Yeah.” He responds, looking behind Tommy at the other man (probably another vampire) and the pale woman on the concrete. She’s barely conscious. Did Tommy really drink that much? He usually tries to be careful, but he was just so hungry tonight. “Now where’s your coven? I’d like to have a few words with them about allowing their fledglings out alone so early in The Turning.”

Tommy says nothing, just glaring at the ground.

“You do have a coven, right?” Tommy ignores him. “Kid?”

When he finally speaks, it’s quiet. “I did.”

“‘Did’ as in you no longer have a coven?” The man sounds distressed as he says this.

“What’s it to you?” Tommy sasses, recovering from the timid voice he took on not seconds ago. His voice is still muffled though.

“I’m the town’s coven leader’s son. It’s just as much my responsibility to keep it safe as it is his.”

“How does me not having a coven have anything to do with the safety of your weird little town?”

“So you don’t have a coven.” The pink haired guy raises his brow.

“Wh- I didn’t say that.”

“You answered the question whether you meant to or not. That was all I needed to know.” The man says, taking the hand from his face - keeping the one his wrist though - and adjusting his red velvet cape. He looks over at the other guy and the woman. “Wil. She okay?”

“Yeah, she’ll be fine. I called an ambulance. They’re on their way.” The brunette - Wil? - responds.

“Wait, you didn’t answer my question.” Tommy says, trying to ignore the post-feeding tiredness washing over him. “What’s my lack of a coven got to do with your town?”

“You’re technically a rogue vampire.” The pink haired guy says, “Scorned I assume?”

“None of your business.” Tommy says, sharper than intended.

“So you were scorned. Great.” The guy says sarcastically. They’ve got some work ahead of them. “Well yeah. We can’t have a lone vampire running rampant. Scorned vampires don’t follow any rules, because there isn’t anyone to set any. You just act on impulse. It’s dangerous.”

“Okay? Well- I’ve just fed. I’m not gonna be hungry for a few days so you can let me go now.” Tommy tries. He even goes as far as to tug on the hold at his wrist.

“No, you’re coming with us.” He says, not looking at Tommy. He’s watching Wil adjust the woman into a more comfortable position, presumably for when the paramedics find her.

Tommy blinks. “Excuse me?”

“Phil’s rules.”

“Who the fuck is Phil?”

“Our coven leader and father. Keep up.” The brunette says, joining the conversation. He sees the first man with his hand on Tommy’s wrist, so he holds Tommy’s other arm for good measure, but it’s gentle. Softer than the other guy’s touch. It almost feels… comfortable, to have him hold him. Tommy finds himself stepping closer to him without even considering the implications of it.

Stupid post-feeding instincts.

Their shoulders are touching now, but the man doesn’t seem to mind.

Maybe he hasn’t noticed.

“I assume you were listening to all of that?” The first guy asks, and the brunette vampire nods. “Okay. Well, let’s get out of here. If he’s as young as he seems, his instincts are gonna start actin’ up any moment now.” The pink haired one says, dragging Tommy along with them. Tommy, slightly dreary from his feed, continues to cling onto the brunette guy’s han-

Oh. They’re holding hands now.

When did that happen?

——

Tommy’s instincts mostly settle down by the time they reach the large, dark building at the edge of town that borders the forest. This means that he’s less… pliant and a little more ready to punch these fuckers in the face.

Why are they taking him to another coven? The first one was bad enough, he can’t deal with more self involved vampires. It aches to exist in a coven space. It hurts to even think about living that suffocatingly dreadful existence again.

Tommy has been trying to pull away from their arms for five minutes straight. Surprisingly, they don’t hit him for it, or even tighten their grips enough to hurt, but they’re still holding him too tight for him to escape.

They’re stronger than they look. Or at least, the lanky brunette is stronger than he looks. The other guy has the appearance of someone who could take down an entire army single-handedly (prime, maybe he can), so his strength isn’t a surprise.

“I will carry you if you don’t stop acting like a child.” He states dryly.

“You wouldn’t be able to.” Tommy growls, like a fool.

The only warning he gets before he’s hauled into the air is a humorous intake of breath from the brunette guy his instincts have been trying to latch onto - already.

He gets carried through the entrance of the building - which is at least three or four stories high. Who needs that many rooms? Unless they’re a really big coven. Tommy gulps.

Then, merely a second later, he’s trying to get out of the grip again. But man, is this guy strong. He doesn’t consistently get blood from the vein as far as Tommy understood, so how does he have such power? Tommy can barely squirm in his grip.

That doesn’t deter him from trying though.

He tries right up until they reach two large dark oak doors with black metal designs tracing the natural pattern of the wood and the handles. The doors are opened for them by a vampire waiting right outside of the door, seemingly expecting their arrival.

The doors creak open right as Tommy attempts to kick the man in the face from where he’s curled into his grip in his arms. It’s difficult and awkward to kick him from this close - and Tommy is sure it looks it too.

In front of them, just past the newly agape doors, is what seems to be a dining room. Tommy glances over at it - mid kick. He lowers his leg slowly as he takes it all in.

The dining room is large, with a table that could fit twenty people and a large chandelier on the ceiling. It seems expensive. High class. But it doesn’t exude the creepy, blood-hungry aesthetic you’d expect from a vampire coven.

In fact, despite the sheer size of the place, it almost feels… homely. Like an attempt has been made to not scare away anyone who steps foot within their territory, which is... certainly different to Tommy’s cov- the people who took and turned him.

Tommy’s sire had paintings of blood and gore, and dim lighting in the hallways with lights shining up at the building from the ground outside to give off an intimidating aura. The whole place was focused on reds, silvers and dark walls. It was rich and brooding; stereotypical for vampires.

It was straight out of a typical horror movie.

This place though? There’s a clear focus on welcoming greens and golds. The dark-oak panels on the bottom half of the wall weren’t there with intent to intimidate; they simply were there so the sage wallpaper would stand out. To brighten it.

It’s the kind of place that Tommy dreamed of living in before he was turned.

(When he was a human. Long before he became the monster his own sire couldn’t bear to keep around.

Before he was abandoned and left to succumb to this false life of rot and decay all alone.)

The long table is filled with at least twenty peopl- no. At least twenty vampires, all watching Tommy with varying expressions. Some of relief, some of shock. The younger ones seem to show a slight caution at his sudden appearance, but it’s obvious that the elders try to hold an air of nonchalance to them, no matter how they truly feel deep down.

Still, all he can focus on is the fact that he’s being cradled like a baby, for all of them to see.

Tommy would’ve preferred a fireman’s carry. At least that way he’s not held like a child in front of an entire coven of unknown vampires.

He freezes immediately, but the man carrying him only walks in further.

“Hey Dad. Caught the killer.” The brunette guy to Tommy’s right says easily, leaning over someone to grab a blood bag when he’s close enough to the table. He says it so simply, as if they didn’t just take him prisoner or whatever the fuck after catching him feeding on an innocent woman.

Still, Tommy truthfully mutters, “I’ve never killed anyone.” I wouldn’t. Not purposely.

No one acknowledges this though, because a voice begins to speak before they can.

“Why- uh.” Sitting at the very end of the table is a blonde man, who is wearing emerald green silk robes with a red heart design etched onto its chest. He’s wearing a white top underneath it, just visible in the v-neck of the silk robes. He lowers his straw, and Tommy immediately latches onto the sight of it. The smell of it. It has a red liquid in it with a very distinct scent. One that’s hard to miss, especially for a supernatural being with heightened senses who happens to pretty much be addicted to that substance. It’s blood. The human kind.

Tommy has to focus so incredibly hard on suppressing the instincts that he almost drowns out the conversation altogether. But that would probably be bad, right? He needs to learn all the information he can about this place so he can get the fuck out of here. Back to the streets where he belongs. “Why didn’t you detain him immediately?” The elegant looking man continues.

“Thought you might wanna meet him first.” The pink braid guy that’s carrying him says, eyebrows raised as if he’s expecting something. Perhaps some sort of reaction from the blonde man who responded - who Tommy has just realised must be his father too, and therefore the coven leader if what the brunette said back in the alleyway is true.

“It’s fine.” The coven leader waves a hand. “Just throw him in a cell, we’ll figure it out after feeding time.”

“He’s a fledgling.” The brunette says, and he sounds almost… excited? No- Tommy must be reading his tone wrong.

The leader whips his head up. “The rogue vampire is a fledgling?” He speaks fast as he gets up from his seat to approach Tommy. “How did…” he tapers off, but Tommy heard the question from a mile away.

‘How did a young vampire end up alone for long enough to become a rogue?’

“Scorned.” The pinkette answers.

The coven leader just looks incredibly sad at this, and Tommy has had enough of being spoken about like he’s not there, so, naturally, he interjects.

“Who the fuck are you guys?”

The three that are standing around him look down at him, like they forgot he was there. Which wouldn’t make sense because they were talking about him. Not to mention the fact that the bulky pink guy was holding him. How do you forget about someone you’re literally touching?

“Oh right. Introductions.” The older blonde laughs a little giddily, as if he wasn’t ready to send Tommy to some random cell and forget about him just minutes ago. “I’m Phil, the leader of this coven and the father of these two.” He gestures to pink punk and brunette bitch.

“I’m Wilbur!” The brunette smiles, a little too eagerly maybe, but not in a bad way. It almost would’ve been endearing had the situation not been like it was. “And this is my brother Techno.” He gestures to the guy that’s still holding him.

“Right.” Tommy says blandly, then looks up at pin- Techno. “Can you let me go now?”

“Oh. Right, yeah.” He answered slightly awkwardly.

Once he’s securely down on the ground again, he notices the trio looking at him weirdly. It takes all of ten seconds before Wilbur asks him a question that they were clearly waiting on an unprompted answer for. “So? What’s your name?”

He pretends not to notice the eyes watching the scenario unfold from the table.

“Does it matter?” He sasses quietly. He wants to run a hand down his face, but he doesn’t dare move. If he does, he fears it’ll be right towards the blood on the table. The bagged blood.

“Yeah.” Wilbur answers, still waiting.

Tommy wants to argue against it, he really does.

But he’s so tired. It would’ve been easier if they found him a couple of hours after his feed, at least then he’d have more energy and conscious thought to deal with this shit.

“Fine. ‘S Tommy.” He mumbles. Not that it matters. He’ll be out of here before the second daybreak.

“Nice to meet you Tommy.” Phil smiles, before walking over to the table and announcing who Tommy is.

Once Tommy is introduced, the sire says what he plans to do with him aloud to his coven.

“We haven’t had much time at all to think this over, but I think for now rehabilitation will be the appropriate response to care for him and make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone else before his instincts mature.” Phil says to the table of vampires, before turning to Tommy, voice a little softer. Maybe Tommy imagined the change in tone, it seems a little unrealistic coming from a coven leader. “You’ll be staying here with us. At least until we figure something else out.”

How he came up with a plan that quickly, Tommy doesn’t know. Maybe fully fledged vampires can think as fast as they run? That would be awesome. Unlikely, but awesome.

“Won’t he also need someone to take care of him? Make sure he doesn’t run off?” Wilbur suggests.

“Ah good idea.” Wilbur brightens at Phil’s praise. “Techno, you’re his new bodyguard.”

“Wh-” Wilbur begins, deflating. Tommy doesn’t have a clue why he’s upset. It’s the pink haired guy that’s getting dumped on dangerous, rogue vampire duty.

“What?” The other son asks at the same time, bewildered.

“Yeah. You’re the strongest of all of us. And you already clearly know how to keep him in check.” Phil says, gesturing to him. He probably means how he’d been holding him before. “It’ll be fine.” He says reassuringly, rubbing the new bodyguard’s shoulder with a gentle smile.

What a dickhead.

(Tommy forces himself to ignore the thought of how calming it would feel to have a soft, gentle touch like that given to him so easily. He thinks he’d be happier.

Maybe he’d die a content death that way - if he ever figures out a way to rid himself of the damning eternity looming over him, that is.)

——

Before Tommy was allowed to leave the dining room - escorted by his new bodyguard - Phil explained a couple of things to him. He said he was telling him these facts ‘just in case Tommy wasn’t aware’ and so the situation could make a little more sense to him. Be a little less frightening if it was in the first place.

He told Tommy about the threat of rogue vampires, then went on to explain that Tommy isn’t just any rogue, he is a rogue fledgling who was abandoned by his sire. This means that he’s even more of a threat, because of the lack of control he has on his instincts. They latch onto the urge to feed as a distraction from the constant call for his sire, and a way to not focus on the emptiness that returns when his sire never shows up.

Apparently getting turned into a vampire and scorned by your sire, left to fend for yourself for months changes a person.

(He can only wonder how being practically kidnapped by a rival coven will impact him in the future, whether negatively or positively.)

Neither of these things were exactly on Tommy’s bucket list but hey, at least he’ll have an interesting story to tell that street cat he met a few weeks ago when he escapes.

Which- actually he should stop thinking about Clementine and focus on the issue at hand.

“I’m a fucking vampire. I don’t need a babysitter.” Tommy repeats for what feels like the millionth time in the past hour as his newest problem walks calmly beside him. The pink haired man barely glances at him. They’re on their way to Tommy’s newest cag- room. His newest room.

Arguably, Tommy being a vampire is the very reason he needs to be watched over in the first place. But it’s not his fault that he’s like this! And he’s not ‘falling to his instincts’, he is making the conscious decision to drain those people of their blood. He is. He knows he is.

(“Don’t show any weakness. Not ever.” Was the first of his many lessons before he was shoved out of the first place that felt like some semblance of home in years. “You got that kid?” His sire’s best friend and right hand man said with a hand on his shoulder. Tommy has grown close with him in the months that he’d been there. “They’ll rip you apart out there if they know how to get to you.”

“…Out where?” Tommy - a newly turned, oblivious Tommy - questioned.

“You’ll find out soon.” The man said with a sad smile. His hand tightens on Tommy’s shoulder and the blonde still doesn’t know what’s going on. Why was he acting weird? Like he’s keeping something from him? Tommy can barely comprehend his own thoughts over the constant thrum of ‘sire-bond-comfort’ that pounds in the back of his mind. He can sense his sire in the room he’s about to enter, and his instincts aren’t quiet about it. He doesn’t have time to try though, because soon enough, the man says this. “You’ve gotta go. I’ll… see ya.” He waved, and left. Just like that.

Tommy waved back belatedly, confused but compliant.

Then, he entered the large doors.)

It’s not like Tommy chose to be a vampire, there’s no choice when it comes to that; his sire had made that clear. Choices are for leaders, and Tommy has never been, and never will be fit to become a leader.

So he just has to deal with the punches.

But he never said he’d make it easy on the person lunging.

“I’m not a babysitter, I’m your bodyguard.” The stoic guy that carried him before - Tommy kind of forgot his name already - responds simply. His pink hair is still tied in a long French braid.

“What the fuck is the difference?” Tommy retorts.

“The difference is that one is for children, to protect them from hurting themselves or getting hurt by others, and the other is to stop insolent fledglings from hurting humans because they can’t control the voices in their head.” The man says it so dryly that Tommy can’t help but bristle.

“I hate you.” He spits.

“Okay.” The man (Technal if Tommy remembers correctly from the dinner table introductions) says, and it’s the lack of reaction that annoys Tommy the most. His sire may have been an abusive prick but at least he wasn’t boring.

“You’re an ass.” Tommy insults as they reach his new bedroom door.

Technal ignores him, gesturing to it. “Here it is.”

Tommy doesn’t even glance at him (take that Technal. He deserves a taste of his own medicine). He just walks in moodily, and he goes to slam the door but-

But Technal puts his foot in the way to stop it slamming closed in a way that would’ve certainly fractured it if he were a human. “No. I’m coming in.” He states blandly.

“Wh- it’s my fucking room.” For now. “You can’t just come in here and take up space.”

“You’re not trusted to be left alone, remember?”

Tommy scoffs loudly. “And I’m supposed to trust you being in here while I sleep?”

“I’ll be waiting outside while you sleep.” The bodyguard responds easily. “But I need to do a check of your room - and your pockets and shoes - now to make sure you’re not hiding anything you’re not supposed to have.” Technal tells him. There’s no room for negotiation, he clearly expects Tommy to just agree to it. Then again, it’s not like he has much of a choice, does he? He’s trapped here until he can figure out a way out.

“What the fuck.”

(At least he’ll maybe get free warmth and an actual bed here for a while. The covers already look so soft compared to his concrete alleyway floor. He’d settle for just a thin blanket over that place any day. It was miserable living like that, so it’d be a lie if Tommy said he wasn’t looking forward to sleeping in a genuine bed. Maybe he’d even manage to get a full day’s sleep.)

“Move or I’ll move you.” Technal says. Threatens? His stance isn’t all that threatening, he seems almost relaxed, but the eye contact they hold tells another story. He seems mad.

No, not mad. Just… a bit serious. Which is pretty confusing considering how laid back he seems at a mere glance. Tommy’s probably overthinking it, he tends to do that, and he’s usually wrong.

Tommy glares at him, still in the doorway, but Technal doesn’t break their eye contact. He doesn’t even seem to flinch.

“Gods! Fine!” Tommy moves to the side ever so slightly, so the man doesn’t have much room to come in. Just to be a nuisance under the guise of compliance.

“Do I look that small to you?” He deadpans, his red eyes unimpressed.

Tommy doesn’t let his nervousness about the situation show. “I don’t know, do you?”

“Oh my Gods.” Technal begins. Tommy looks up at him properly. “You were right. You’re literally a toddler. This is babysitting.”

“Hey fuck you. You don’t even know me.” Tommy spits, and unlike Technal’s, his words are spewed to pierce.

“I may not know you,” The man takes a step forward. “But I’ve been assigned to take care of you and make sure your instincts don’t force your hand against a human again. And I’ll try damn hard to make sure I do my job properly.” For the sake of this town? Or for the sake of me? Tommy wonders distantly.

“My instincts didn’t ‘force my hand’. I chose to do those things.” Tommy insists. Realistically, he knows he wouldn’t have done those things if he had any other means for survival, and especially not if he were still human, so in a way, his instincts and the situation he was forced into pushed him to do those things. But he’d rather pretend that he wanted to be the monster than to seem pliant and weak.

“Yeah I’m sure. Just like you chose to let your instincts guide you into the nearest vampire’s arms because you were left alone for too long.” Technal quips back. He’s clearly referring to Tommy clinging to Wilbur immediately.

That’s so embarrassing. But more than that, it’s a soft spot for him. He has no one, and Wilbur is someone who showed him, within seconds, what it means to be gentle. To receive the kind of touch he hasn’t had in years, even if it was only there to keep him from going back over to the lady or running away.

Tommy glares at him. “Get out.”

“No. I’m checking you and your room.”

“Then fucking get on with it so you can piss off.” Tommy knows there’s no changing his mind. But he’s definitely gonna annoy him until he gets tired of it and leaves. That always worked with his old coven.

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

——

Technal finally left after deeming the room safe from escape attempts. Tommy refused to talk to him the entire time, instead getting a lay of the land. Or- a lay of his room?

There are bars on the windows like a fucking prison cell and there’s lock on the steel door. The rest of the room is reasonable enough though; a four point double bed with soft sheets and red silk pillowcases, a wooden desk with a built-in drawer and a cabinet for his clothes. There’s also a warm lamp light on either side of his bed.

He could’ve liked it if he wasn’t trapped in there.

Tommy has been sulking for the better part of twelve hours before Technal returns. He’s tried the windows and the doors, and by this point he’s too tired to continue trying to escape. He’s still sort of blood deprived from going a week without feeding - that one woman’s blood not being enough to make up for it - so his energy drained fast.

Tommy almost perks up when the man says what he says next. But he refrains from doing so when he realises what he has in his hands.

“Blood time.” Technal says, voice void of emotion as he brings in a tray of blood bags. Tommy sniffs the air and scrunches up his nose. “We got a few different types because we don’t know what you prefer. Type A, Type B, Type-”

“No.” Tommy interrupts. He isn’t drinking blood bags. No way.

Are they trying to weaken him or something?

“No?” Technal repeats, confused.

“That shit smells stale.” Tommy turns up his nose, acting spoiled. It does smell sort of stale, but that’s not the real issue here. He doesn’t want to be weakened by leftover blood.

His sire told him that drinking from the vein is the only way vampires can truly survive. He told him that blood bags only last them so long, and that they leave vampires weak and vulnerable after a while.

Tommy isn’t letting that happen to him.

If he has to exist alone, he needs to at least be strong enough to defend himself.

Tommy needs a real feeding if he ever wants a shot at being strong enough to get out of here.

Technal’s nostrils flare briefly. “It smells fine. Besides, it always tastes better than it smells.”

Tommy crosses his arms at Technal’s laid back tone. “Don’t care.”

“Neither do I.” He responds easily, lowering himself onto a chair near Tommy’s new bed. “I’m fine to sit here for as long as I need to in order to get you to drink something other than the blood of unwilling victims.” When Tommy stubbornly doesn’t comment, he adds. “Need I remind you that I’ve been on this planet a couple hundred years longer than you. I’ve got nothing but time to lose.”

Tommy groans and falls back onto his pillow in annoyance. “Why do I have to be held hostage by the most annoying vampires to plague the Earth?” He grumbles.

“You’re not being held hostage.”

“No one’s letting me leave. There are bars on the windows. Pretty sure that’s the definition of being held hostage.” Tommy rolls his eyes, leaning back on the bed and staring up at the ceiling above him.

“It’s for the human’s safety. And yours. We have a deal with the village, and if you keep bringing harm to them, we’ll lose that peace.” Technal says, voice serious. Tommy pretends not to be intimidated by it. “If you keep attacking them, the hunters will go back to attacking us needlessly. We can’t just let you run rogue and cause another war.”

“That’s so dramatic. One vampire isn’t going to cause an entire war.” Tommy grumbles. Technal simply sighs.

“Just drink.” He gestures to the blood bag.

“I already told you, I’m not drinking that shit.”

“Then I’ll force feed you.”

“I’ll bite you.”

“I’m not letting you starve yourself because you’re having a temper tantrum about not having it from the vein. One day, maybe we’ll trust you with our blood volunteers, but for now, we have no faith in your ability to push past your fledgling instincts. So drink.” Technal smuggles a layer of his old vampire magic within the last word. He adds a Compulsion to his speech. Bastard.

Tommy is too young to resist the pull. Too weak. He has to listen, even if he doesn’t want to.

He can’t let himself be vulnerable again, but he has no choice.

And the longer he resists, the more time the man has to come up with another way to get the blood into his system.

Tommy is too busy battling with his instincts to see it coming.

Technal pierces the blood bag near the top, so that it doesn’t spill, but the smell permeates the room all the same, and as much as Tommy wants to claim that it smells stale and bad, it honestly just smells delicious. He hasn’t eaten since he got caught - and even that wasn’t enough to satiate his starvation - and the smell is so strong as Technal holds the bag in front of his face.

He can’t give in. He can’t let them weaken him.

He can’t.

…But it smells so good.

Tommy manages to resist for just a few seconds longer before his body moves of it’s own accord and bites down on the blood bag. The minute it touches his tongue he snatches it from Technal’s hand and chugs it.

It’s gone all too fast and Tommy, suddenly tired, like a baby after milk, slumps back against the blankets once more.

“Good.” Technal says, too softly. He sounds almost- sad. But that wouldn’t make sense, would it? “Sleep now, fledgling.”

And Tommy can do nothing but obey.

—

When Techno emerges from the room, the faint smell of bagged blood lingering on the fabric of his clothes, he knows what has to happen next.

It’s time to discuss the kid, and what’s best for him. They need to figure out if they have what it takes to care for him, and if they don’t? Well, then they need to consider their next steps.

He arranges an official coven meeting to take place within the next week.

Chapter Text

The meeting comes around fast.

The tough part about meetings like these is that each of the coven members have to push aside their personal feelings and wishes to an extent. They’re obviously allowed to state their opinions and how they feel where necessary, but they have to be careful not to let their emotions consume them or impact their decisions too harshly. If they do, and subsequently make a poor decision based on that, then they risk putting the fledgling in danger, or simply a situation unbefitting of his current needs.

Parenting a fledgling isn’t like raising a human child. It’s not just a feed and a diaper change here and there. They have so many more needs to be met, hiding deep under the surface. So many unseen calls of instincts to be returned and tended to.

It can be detrimental to their development and their health if a fledgling’s needs aren’t met. If they aren’t surrounded by comfort and familial love where needed, they risk becoming dependent on other, more dangerous things. It’s been seen before; scorned fledglings bonding with humans, imprinting on them and then accidentally bringing harm to them when their violent impulses and craving for blood grow to be too much. Or even being harmed by their bonded human; an act of fear turned on them.

And that’s just talking about the average fledgling. That’s without taking into account all of Tommy's trauma and pain. All of the missed instinctual milestones and the months spent alone on the streets while he was supposed to be developing as a vampire. All of the missed time.

You have to be mindful with fledglings, but with abandoned fledglings? You have to tread so lightly that not even a falling feather can compare. One step too harsh and all of that carefully constructed progress could be lost for good, crumbling into a thousand irreparable pieces.

Techno knows this meeting could decide Tommy’s fate for him. It could determine his entire future, whether that be with or without them, so they need to take it seriously. Fledgling care is no joke.

The coven gathers around the same meeting table from before - this time without the rogue fledgling listening in.

It’s long and made of a dark, red tinted wood; perfect for absorbing blood stains from dinner time without making them too obvious and spoiling the aesthetic.

There’s almost twenty vampires in the room. They sit and chat somewhat mindlessly until Philza walks in, taking his designated place at the end of the table. Wilbur and Techno sit either side of him on the sides of the table with everyone else. Their chairs are facing each other.

It’s here, in the gifted silence, that their leader begins to speak.

The meeting has begun.

“As we all know, just a few days ago, we took in a new fledgling.” There are various murmurs and nods of affirmation around the room, “We’re here to discuss his care, and his permanence here in our coven.” Across from him, Techno sees Wilbur bite his lip in anticipation. “I have a feeling this boy may be more of a handful than when we took in Tubbo and Ranboo.”

Phil receives various concerned murmurs from across the room. They all know how much time and energy went into raising the pair, particularly Eret and Sneeg who each took on one of the fledglings after they’d been patrolling and found them huddled together by a wall of the coven building, clearly abandoned.

Eret originally took in Ranboo, and Sneeg took care of Tubbo, but then Ranboo imprinted on Sneeg instead of Eret so they had to pull a switcheroo, making Sneeg Ranboo’s official parent, and Eret Tubbo’s – it was a whole situation.

Now though, they’re just old enough to be spending more time alone, and to become less dependent on their carers, but they still need them to settle their instincts occasionally, even so many years later.

Tending to the duo had been hard work – as raising any youngling would be – but caring for Tommy? A traumatised, scorned fledgling who has never truly known the experience of undead life as he should?

It was probably going to take double the time, triple the energy.

It’d be worth it, but it’d still be tough.

“He hasn’t quite got a hold on his instincts yet, which is okay, and to be expected, really. The concerning part is that he’s been trying to-” Phil’s lips thin, in preparation for the weight that’s moments away from dripping past his lips and into the ears of his coven members, “Suppress them.”

The other vampires in the room show visible distress, some even gasping because fledglings shouldn’t even want to suppress their instincts, let alone actually try to do it.

To be able to succeed in suppressing them is worse. It should be near impossible - dangerous even - but if a young vampire has been abandoned for long enough, there’s a slightly higher chance of success in suppressing them. It’s a sort of fail safe. A way for the fledgling’s mind to protect itself, since they don’t have a coven to do so.

This isn’t necessarily a good thing for a young vampire who’s just been saved from abandonment, though. It could make helping him develop into the vampire he was meant to be just that much harder. It simply creates another barrier to struggle against as the coven attempts to reach out to him.

A vampire who refuses to indulge his fledgling instincts and grow as he’s meant to? It’s unheard of.

Phil has to quieten his coven when they begin to speak in hushed voices to the people next to each other.

“The point I’m trying to make is that if we decide that we cannot take care of him the way he needs, it’s possible we’ll have to send him to a fledgling rehabilitation centre, or a new coven instead. There are a lot of factors to take into consideration here. He may only take to certain authority figures. That would be no fault of anyone’s, but we’d have to act accordingly to what we see is best for him. And right now… well, it’s been almost a week of this and he’s still struggling against his instincts, so we may have to consider these options if he doesn’t take to us soon.” People around the room show various gestures of agreement and understanding, whereas Wilbur frowns. He doesn’t agree, and he isn’t afraid to show his distaste for his father’s words.

“Wh- Dad we can’t just send him away. What if it’s worse for him over there?” What if they hurt him more? Or they don’t understand him? What if they kick him out because his resistance gets too much for them? And what happens if they aren’t careful enough with his fragile state of mind?

What if he imprints on a bad person or someone who doesn’t care for him at all? At least here, Wilbur is sure that no matter who Tommy takes to when he stops resisting his instincts, they’ll be a good person. Each member of the coven takes pride in being a decent (undead) human being. That isn’t assured if they send him off to a bunch of professional strangers.

“It’s just an option we need to consider. We need to keep his best interests in mind.”

“I know. But Dad, what if they make him worse?”

“Wil, what if we accidentally make it worse?” Phil sounds pained. It’s obvious that he cares a lot about this too. “I’m not sure if we can risk it. This kind of thing is so delicate. He’s been through too much.”

“So we can’t risk keeping him here, with a coven of kind hearted people who have his best interests at heart, but we can risk sending him into a completely new environment with even more strangers that we’re not sure if he can really trust?” Wilbur argues. “At least if we keep him here, we know for sure that we can try our best to help him.”

“Wil, there are professionals to help with this.”

“But-”

“I’m not arguing about this. We haven’t decided anything for sure, it’s just something to take into consideration, okay?”

Wilbur keeps his eyes on the table, something hard settling in them. “So what you’re saying is I shouldn’t get attached?”

“What I’m saying is that you need to be careful. He’s still a rogue, and as much as I want to help him, he may need more than us. A rehabilitation centre can do that for him.”

“But we’re already rehabilitating him!”

“Wilbur, just try to understand-“

“No. I don’t think I will ever understand. You call them professionals who can help him but those centres have been known to hurt their fledglings in the name of ‘helping them’.” Phil looks shocked at this. Maybe he really doesn't know. “You can’t send him over there.” Wilbur finalises.

“I- Wil-”

“No. I’m not talking about this anymore.” Wilbur snaps as he stands sharply. He turns for the door and makes sure to slam it on his way out.

He heads for the fledgling’s room immediately.

—

“He’s attached.” Techno states blandly as soon as his brother loudly exits the room.

“Yeah.” Phil agrees, running a hand down his face.

“You are too.”

Phil looks at Techno through his fingers before lowering his hand completely. “Oh shush.”

Techno notes that it’s not a denial.

His family is so incredibly soft (he loves it).

They both look over when a gentle voice speaks up. “If you don’t mind me saying, I kind of agree with Wil.”

It’s Niki, an old friend of Wilbur’s. She’s only just older than him, with pink hair and a sweet, caring personality. A lesson to be learned though, is to never underestimate her. She may be a sweetheart, but she can handle herself. And when the time calls for it? She can be an absolute badass. She’s not the kind of person you cross.

Phil smiles at Niki, but there’s a tension lining it.

“I see his point too Nik, but do you really think we can help him? I don’t know how I could live with myself knowing we made it worse for the kid.”

“Well, first of all, you aren’t living so that’s not an issue,” She jokes, “And secondly, I’m sure we could figure something out for him.”

Not even a second passes before a brown haired teen, Tubbo, chimes in, almost excitedly. “We can research!”

Next to him, his friend Ranboo shrinks into his seat. He’s never liked having all of the attention on or near him. Even so, he’s the one who speaks up next.

“A- And me and Tubs know a bit about being abandoned fledglings… We could help.”

“That’s a very good idea.” Philza smiles. “Thank you boys, and Niki.”

“I could show you the fledgling section in the library.” Techno begins. “We could look into it together, and with anyone else who volunteers to help.” Techno says to the two boys. Then he looks at the rest of the coven. “‘That sound good?” They all make various murmurs of agreement, some chiming in with their own suggestions.

Phil smiles fondly at his son, before turning it towards the two youngest of the coven (other than the new fledgling-).

Tubbo returns the sentiment while Ranboo nods slightly nervously in his direction, ever the hater of eye contact.

“We can figure this out in a way that we all agree on.”

——

It’s a while after Techno left after their weirdly soft feeding.

Tommy is drifting in a gentle unconsciousness, and has been for a couple of hours.

He can almost say that he feels safe and secure here, tucked away under these blankets, behind the locked doors that keep him in; the doors that also keep his old coven and any potential threats out.

It’s an instinctual feeling from within him, one that washes over him kindly; something telling him that no harm will be brought to him here.

Something telling him he can relax. That he can accept - maybe even lean into - this coven’s gentle touches and softly spoken words. He’s not sure how he feels about it, and he’s certainly not sure whether or not it’s true, but for now he accepts that he’s here, and that’ll have to be enough.

Not too long after Tommy falls asleep, he is woken by knocks at his door. Repeated, annoying knocks.

He’d been forced to feed a few times since he’d been taken here, but Technal always apologised for it when he thought Tommy was asleep, so he finds it hard to stay mad at him for it. His apologies for the forced feedings sounded so genuine - especially considering the fact that he thought Tommy couldn’t hear him - so Tommy couldn’t hold it against him. Against any of them, really.

After all, Tommy understands the coven’s motive (keep the rogue in control, prevent a war), but it doesn’t mean that Tommy has to agree with it. Or their methods.

He’d be fine on his own, drinking from the vein. He’s a single person, how much damage can he really do?

(The answer is a lot, but Tommy isn’t ready to face that reality yet.)

When he finally musters up the energy to walk up to the door to give the person on the other side permission to open it (because Phil insisted that boundaries were ‘important’ here), he’s surprised to be met with a different set of eyes. They’re still red like Technal’s, but the lashes are longer; the shape a little rounder. Wilbur’s.

They brighten when the brunette sees him through the small glass pane on the door.

When he steps inside, Tommy immediately questions him, because the routine he’s slowly growing used to has been interrupted, “Why is it you? Where’s Technal?”

“Where’s… who?” Wilbur responds as he closes and locks the door, clearly suppressing a laugh.

Tommy frowns, confused. “…Technal?”

The laugh cannot be contained this time. “Technal. That’s too good. I’m telling him you called him that.” Wilbur pulls his phone out from his pocket.

“What?”

He stops typing to look up at Tommy. “You know his name is Techno, right?”

What?

Tommy recovers quickly enough to cover his confusion. At least, he hopes he does. “Uh- yeah I knew that.”

Wilbur raises his eyebrows. “No, you didn't.”

“I did.” He crosses his arms subconsciously. “I was just kidding.”

“Yeah I’m sure you were, Tommy.” Wilbur pats his shoulder as he walks past him to further enter the room, and it’s clearly supposed to be lighthearted; patronising to get a reaction out of him, but all Tommy can think about is how warm his hand felt on his undead skin in their brief moment of contact. How cold he has been up until this point.

It felt so warm-touch-warm.

It’s like he’s been starved, and the touch is satiating this peculiar hunger in a way that not even fresh blood could. It’s soothing, calming and anxiety inducing, all in the same vein; comforting in the same way that it sets him on edge.

It almost feels safe. But he hasn’t felt safe since he was turned. He rarely felt safe in his first coven, and he never felt safe out on the streets.

Tommy is a boy cursed with eternal hunger, hunted at every turn, and he’s finally feeling a sense of the comfort he’d longed for for so long.

But all too soon the touch is gone, just as he’d anticipated.

(Just as he grew to dread, in the split second the touch was there.)

Tommy stands there processing the way his instincts tried to react to that touch for a second too long, because it seems Wilbur has already moved on.

(The blonde misses the knowing way in which Wilbur glances at him before speaking.)

“Did Tech give you blood this morning?”

“Um.” Tommy swallows and turns to face Wilbur, who had already crossed the room and sat down on the end of Tommy’s bed. “Yeah.”

“You don't sound sure about that. Did he or not?” Wilbur asks sceptically. Tommy just nods, because he did. He’d used the pierce-the-bag tactic again to get Tommy’s instincts to latch onto the idea of a feed. “Well. I don’t trust you after he told me about your refusal for blood so I’ll call him.”

“Why ask me then?” Tommy begins to ask, but Wilbur just shushes him as he pulls his phone up to his ear.

Technically vampires don’t need to do that since they have their advanced hearing, but Wilbur just wants to be extra apparently.

Tommy tunes in to listen from his position a few feet away. That’s the one good thing about this whole vampire thing; his heightened ability to eavesdrop.

“Wil?” Techna- Techno’s tinny voice chimes in.

“Hey Tech. Did you give Tommy his blood this morning?”

It’s here that Tommy realised Wilbur didn’t answer his question about where Techno was. He shrugs it off though. It doesn’t really matter, he supposes.

“Yeah. He wiped out two whole bags once he got a taste of it. Kid’s instincts are strong.”

Tommy scoffs at that. It may be true - his instincts seem to have a mind of their own - but he didn’t need to say it so blandly.

And Tommy is not a kid.

Wilbur looks up at the boy’s scoff, but continues to speak like he didn’t notice. “The fledgling managed two bags that early? Damn.” The brunette sounds vaguely impressed.

Wilbur ignores Tommy’s protest of ‘I’m not just some fucking fledging-’ and instead listens to Techno’s response. “Yeah. He keeps trying to push the instincts down but they eventually get the better of him.”

“Hm.” Wilbur looks at Tommy, as if he’s considering something. “Okay. Thanks.”

They end the call. Just like that.

“Do you trust me now?” Tommy sasses when he can finally talk without being interrupted.

“Not massively, but I want to.” Wilbur responds easily, something calculating simmering in his hazel irises.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Tommy questions, suspicious.

“Just thinking.” Is the non-answer that Wilbur gives back. He’s looking into Tommy’s purple eyes. Fledglings don’t get their red eyes until they’ve been a vampire for at least two years, instead they get a mix between red and their natural human colour. Since he had blue eyes as a human, his eyes are a vague shade of purple right now - but they’re getting redder with each day that passes.

(He hates it.)

“…Thinking about what?”

Instead of answering the question, the older vampire asks his own question. Or states a demand. He’s not too sure which it is. “Tommy. Can you come here for a second?”

And- that doesn’t sound too good.

It sounds like the means to a bad outcome, maybe even a trap, so Tommy takes a cautious step back. “No.”

Wilbur’s brow furrows, like he’s confused. “No?”

“Yeah, ‘no’. Why would I want to go near you?” Tommy responds immediately, despite the fact that his baby brain has been screaming at him to be closer to Wilbur since he touched his shoulder just a few minutes ago. Is he really that touch starved?

(The answer is an astounding yes.)

“Your instincts seem to want to.” Wilbur states confidently, and Tommy hates that he’s right. His instincts had been going crazy alone on the streets, without his sire or anyone to care for him, so they’re more than willing to latch onto the first adult vampires he meets now. They demand a caretaker. Maybe even a protector if he’s lucky.

“No they don’t.” Tommy lies. He can’t let Wilbur know the effect he and the other older vampires have on his instincts. What if they try to use it against him like his sire did before he abandoned him?

Even if this place ends up being nice and exactly what they say they are (peace makers, a safe haven for scorned vampires), it’s not a risk he’s willing to take. He won’t let the past repeat itself. He can’t.

Still, Wilbur continues to insist that he knows Tommy’s instincts better than Tommy himself does. “I can tell they do.”

“Well you’re wrong.” Tommy takes another step back, towards the door. Wilbur is sitting calmly on the bed, unthreatening. Tommy still feels targeted nonetheless. “They don’t care about you, or anyone actually.”

“That’s a lie. Don’t think I didn’t notice you hesitating by the door just now. I could practically hear the fledgling panic from across the room.”

“That was not fledgling panic. It was just-” Just plain old panic, nothing more. It was definitely not the fledgling kind. He totally didn’t battle with his instincts because of a single hand on his shoulder. Of course not. Tommy isn’t that weak. (And even if he is, he can’t let Wilbur know. Ever. He can’t give him that kind of power over him.) “I zoned out a little. That’s all, okay?”

“What about when we first met? I distinctly recall you clinging to me.” Wilbur is clearly holding back a smirk as he says this, his voice light and breezy. Like he knows he’s right.

“I was-”

“Stop making excuses, Tommy.” Wilbur interrupts, and it’s not harsh, in fact, it’s spoken fairly softly, but it still unsettles him anyway. Because Tommy isn’t sure how to feel about the fact that he can see right through his lies. That he knows him so well, already. It’s only been a few days and Wilbur can already read him like an open book. It’s daunting, and enticing and Tommy isn’t sure how to feel.

“Wh- I’m not making up excuses.” He defends instinctively.

Wilbur just stares in disbelief at his blatant mistruth, before something settles across his face. “Fine.” And Tommy almost lets his muscles relax, at least until… “If you’re so sure that your instincts don’t care at all, then prove it.”

Shit.

“Literally how can I even prove that?”

“Let me call to your instincts, and if you don’t react, then fine, I’ll accept that you don’t care.” Wilbur says. “But I think you do. Or at least your instincts do, because you’re a fledgling whether you admit it or not.”

Tommy hesitates, anxiety probably showing on his face, because he knows he can’t control his instincts. He knows it like the moon knows the closest stars.

But if he refuses, then it’ll prove Wilbur right anyway. They both know that if he has nothing to hide, he’d have no reason to refuse.

No matter what he does, Wilbur will win.

“Unless you’re too scared?” Wilbur tacks on tauntingly, and Tommy can’t help it.

The brunette seems to know how to get what he wants from him, because next thing he knows, Tommy is agreeing. “Whatever. Fine.”

Wilbur smiles, and it’s far too genuine for Tommy’s liking. Smiles mean attachment. Attachment is dangerous. “Cool.”

“Well?” Tommy gestures with his hands. “Get on with it so I can prove you wrong.”

“Okay okay. Come sit on the edge with me.” The brunette pats the covers of the bed encouragingly.

“Why?” Tommy asks, almost sceptically.

“Just trust me.”

Tommy does, however reluctantly.

“Okay. Now, this is kind of a big deal for forming bonds within a coven,” Wilbur says, meeting Tommy’s eyes, “So if you don’t think you’re ready or you want to try another way to reach out to your instincts, we can.”

Tommy is suddenly nervous. But he needs to keep up this act of confidence and apathy, or else they’ll know how brittle he is, so instead of changing his mind like he wants to, he says, “Wilbur, I don't care. Just get it over with.”

The older vampire looks into his eyes, scanning his expression. “Are you sure? I know I teased you with it a bit but it is a pretty big deal within covens so if you really don’t-”

“Wilbur.” Tommy stops him from continuing his rambles, because he’s genuinely okay to do this. What’s the worst that can happen? “It’s fine. I can handle it.”

(Tommy pushes down the part of him that knows he can more than ‘handle’ it. The part of him that actively wants this. That craves a connection with the vampire sitting across from him - and has craved it since he first laid his eyes upon him.

This man radiates comfort. He looks like he’d give the best hugs - the fondest smiles - and Tommy can’t help but want to test that theory for himself. Maybe this would be his opportunity to do so.)

“And you’re absolutely sure? Because we can find another way to reach out to your instincts that doesn’t bond us-” Oh hell no. Tommy wants this chance, as scary as it is. He knows that if he lets himself fall to his instincts he’d lose his argument from just now - and his dignity - but to experience a hug from the person his instincts are roaring about latching onto? To feel the embrace of this person he’s grown weirdly attached to in their limited number of meetings? Well, Tommy guesses it’d be worth it.

He swallows. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Just making sure.” Wilbur smiles. Then, the brunette pulls up his sleeve and bites into his own wrist. Tommy is immediately transfixed by the beads of blood forming there as he pulls away, and if he could see his own pupils right now, he knows they’d be wide. Practically enveloping the purple of his eyes. “So, if your instincts aren’t in control of you, like you insist, then you’ll be able to resist this right now.”

Tommy swallows the saliva building in his mouth, not moving his eyes from the blood that’s beginning to drop from Wilbur’s wrist. “I can. I can resist.” He insists.

“Sure you can.” Wilbur says, and his words aren’t spoken to be taunting. Instead they are reassuring and kind. It doesn’t make any sense to Tommy, but at the same time, it feels fitting. Wilbur doesn’t seem like he has a malicious bone in his body. “Focus on my voice, not the blood.”

Tommy looks up from it to meet Wilbur’s eyes, before immediately looking down again. “Well don’t just stop speaking after telling me to focus on your voice!” He doesn’t mean to sound so panicked, but by the time he realises it, it’s already too late.

“So you do need the distraction.” Wilbur smiles, like he knows something Tommy doesn’t. Something that makes him very happy. As happy as Tommy used to feel when his human feet splashed in the waves and kicked at piles of sand, basking in the summer sun - at least before everything crashed down around him and he lost himself for eternity.

“Shut up. Just speak.”

“Those two phrases are very contradictory.” Wilbur quips.

Tommy's hands clench together, barely formed claws digging in as he tries to resist the smell that’s wafting up to him. “Wil.”

“Alright, I’m sorry. Uh- did you know that sunflowers turn to face the sun? They reach for it.”

“I can’t believe that you’re a vampire and the first fun fact that you can think of is about the daytime.” Tommy teases, pointedly looking away from Wilbur’s wrist. His averted gaze doesn’t last long though, the sight of it in the corner of his eye draws his attention back in almost immediately.

“Well, I miss it.” Wilbur responds honestly. There’s an emotion that once was raw and broken splintering his voice, but it’s almost unnoticeable.

Me too, Tommy thinks bitterly.

“Just get a daylight ring.” Tommy barely knows how those work. He’s never seen one, or even known someone who’d seen one, but he remembers hearing his cov- his ex coven talk about them once before. Mostly about how they wanted to get their hands on one.

“There are only a few of those in existence. The bloodline of witches who made them are long gone.” Wilbur answers, unknowing of his spoken mistake.

Tommy has to tense his muscles to stop himself moving forward when he hears the word ‘blood’ fall from the vampire’s mouth.

“Bad choice of words.” Tommy strains to get the words out while also holding his body back from giving into the urge.

He’s struggling to hate the idea of his fangs levitating towards the red liquid. He’s finding it difficult to dislike the idea of sinking his fangs into the skin that resides just an arms length away from him. Of letting himself fully relax as he accepts the offering.

“Thought you weren’t tempted by the blood?” Wilbur teases lightheartedly.

And there’s that word again.

Blood.

BloodBloodBlood.

Tommy clenches his teeth, his fists clenching into his lower pant leg in sync. “I’m not.”

“Okay.” Wilbur says, but there’s a knowing glint in his red eyes.

“Give me another fact.” Tommy rushes to say, mouth still in a thin line.

“Hm. I recently found out that criminologists used to promote lobotomies as a cure for criminals. They thought it would calm them and control their impulsive behaviour.” Wilbur gave him the fact easily, before entering annoying mode once more. “You know, maybe we could get one for you.”

“Ha ha. You’re hilarious.” Tommy says sarcastically.

When Wilbur doesn’t say anything for a moment, Tommy looks up from his arm to meet his red - blood red - eyes. He holds a completely straight face, and it’s off putting.

“You are kidding, right?” Tommy questions warily.

Wilbur’s serious expression loosens into an amused smile. “Yes doofus.” Wilbur pokes the blonde’s forehead with the arm that isn’t currently dripping onto his lap. “I’m kidding.”

“Oh.” Tommy breathes out in relief.

Wilbur shakes his head fondly, and they delve into silence. Not an uncomfortable one though. There’s no room for discomfort or awkwardness, not when Tommy is trying so hard not to tip forward and satiate the urge that’s pounding at his skull.

Apparently the effort was futile though, because it only takes another few minutes of resisting and a couple of rushed conversation topics for Tommy to give in.

The minute he gives his body the chance - untightening his muscles and loosening his tense jaw for what was supposed to be just a brief moment to reposition his aching bones - Tommy practically throws himself at Wilbur’s wrist. And once his fledgling fangs get a taste of the red liquid, he latches onto it like he’d been starving for months.

Wilbur gasps in surprise at the sudden movement, but quickly moves to make Tommy more comfortable.

They end up with Tommy cradled against Wilbur’s chest, with the brunette's blood smeared arm wrapped around Tommy’s shoulder and held in front of his face as he drinks. Tommy holds onto the wrist with both hands, keeping it there, just in case anyone tries to take it away.

Wilbur plays with the boy's hair with his other hand absentmindedly while he drinks, and, after a little bit longer, Tommy’s stomach is full.

He tries to keep drinking, he really does, but it only serves to make him feel nauseous, so he reluctantly pulls his head away, letting himself relax fully into Wilbur.

Sleep begins to pull him under, making his limbs heavy and pliant, like a baby after a bottle of milk. Tommy sighs contentedly. He feels as if nothing exists outside of their little blood bubble. It’s perfect.

It’s everything he’s been missing and more. He’s longed for a comfort like this for years - long before the first coven stole him, even - and he’s only had it for a short while, but he appreciates it like the beings of Earth appreciate the sun. Like the plants who soak it up, using the energy to grow and to live. The animals who read the sun’s position in the sky like a clock, the ones who dictate their routine based on where it resides in that moment. And the humans who make their little creations to catch the light; suncatchers that reflect and refract the perfect rays.

This moment is Tommy’s sun peeking from behind dark clouds to smile at him with warmth. It’s the azure sky being revealed with it; the same shade his eyes used to shine.

——

“Toms?” The older vampire whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind Tommy’s ear softly. Tommy can’t help but lean into the touch.

“Hm?” He responds sleepily.

“Can I tell you another fact?”

“Mhm.” Tommy hums into his chest. His arms are wrapped around Wilbur’s torso as he sits in his lap. He’s not quite sure when that happened, or how long they’ve been sitting like this, but he’s comfortable, so he’s not going to bring it up if Wilbur doesn’t. He wants to bathe in this comfort for as long as he can.

“I- Fledglings aren’t tempted by just any vampire blood.” Wilbur starts, almost timidly. “It’s only hard to resist a vampire’s blood if it’s from someone you care about or like spending time with. Someone your instincts deem safe.”

Wilbur feels more than sees Tommy’s muscles tense from where he’s snuggled into him. “What?”

“Yeah. It’s kind of a fail safe. If an older vampire tries to bond with a young vampire to manipulate them, they can’t unless the youngling cares about them.” It’s not completely foolproof though, some fledglings grow to care for people who don’t care about their safety or wellbeing at all. That’s where it can get dangerous for them.

But Wilbur doesn’t want to frighten Tommy with that possibility so soon after their Bonding, so he keeps quiet about it. People who do that to fledglings are cruel, and Tommy doesn’t need to have that worry on his mind as well as the instincts and other confusing feelings rushing around his head. Especially since Wilbur knows that danger will never be the case in this coven. Not if he has any say in it.

“And, for what it’s worth,” Wilbur begins, “I care about you too.”

“…Oh.” Tommy replies dumbly, still clearly in his instincts.

“Yeah.” Wilbur holds him tighter, smiling into his newest coven member’s golden curls.

“But what about sires?” Tommy asks, recalling his own sire - ex sire - and the unhealthy attachment he felt to him.

“What do you mean?”

“Well what’s the difference between sire bonds and blood bonds?” He mumbles the question into Wilbur’s chest, too tired to raise his head or speak any clearer than he currently is.

“Sires are different.” Wilbur answers. “The connection between a sire and their sired isn’t as strong as Bonded vampires. They can be broken or ignored much easier after a bit of practice. No one really knows why. Maybe it’s another built-in way to prevent manipulation and abuse from sires to their fledglings.” He shrugs.

“It’s broken then.” Tommy mutters, without thinking. His drowsiness is muffling his coherent thoughts, he’s aware of this, but he can’t find it in himself to care.

“What?”

“The sire fail safe? It’s broken.”

Wilbur’s breath hitches. “What do you mean?”

“M’ s’re hated me.” Tommy slurs tiredly.

“You knew your sire?” Wilbur asks, sounding shocked, like he expected anything other than that.

“Mhm.” Tommy tightens his arm around Wilbur, snuggling his cheek into his soft sweater until he deems it comfy enough.

“Oh. We kinda assumed it was a bite and run.”

“I w’sh.” Tommy snorts quietly. “He kept me as a punchin’ b’g.”

“Oh.” Wilbur pulls him closer. “Oh Tommy I’m so sorry.”

“‘S fine.” The blonde mumbles.

“No, it’s not.” Wilbur responds, determined to get his newest coven member to understand that what he went through was not at all okay.

But Tommy is too tired to respond at this point. Or maybe he just doesn’t know what to say. Whatever the reason, all he can force out is a simple, “Mm.”

“Get some sleep. I’ll watch over you until Techno gets back.”

As soon as the pink haired vampire returns to watch over the little fledgling, Wilbur pegs it to Phil’s office.

Chapter Text

When Phil returned to his office for a quiet space to think about the situation at hand — because he really didn’t want to make the wrong decision here, he had to carefully consider their options to ensure that Tommy didn’t get hurt — he didn’t expect to be interrupted so soon.

But alas, it’s only been a few hours since he left the meeting room when Wilbur rushes into his office, unannounced.

If Wilbur were human he’d probably be out of breath from the running he’d clearly been doing. His hair was slightly mussed and his eyes were wide with… joy?

After he stormed out of the coven meeting, Phil was expecting him to be a little more confrontational, or to be stubbornly pulling himself away from everyone at the very least.

Phil knows his son, he’ll be dramatic until the very end. He’s not the type to hide his emotions from his loved ones (other than in the more intense depressive episodes he used to experience, but they don’t happen so often anymore). If he feels even remotely crossed or upset, he won’t hesitate to show it and accept the comfort his family offers.

Which means that the joy in his eyes is real. It’s not a plot to seem ‘fine’ like he used to do. This is sincere.

But that begs the question, what could have possibly cheered him up so fast?

“He cares!” The brunette declares a little too loudly upon entering the room, interrupting Phil’s thought process.

The words only serve to confuse him more.

“Wil- what?” His father responds, alarmed at the sudden presence. He’s used to his son’s antics, don’t get him wrong, but he’s still perplexed about the context of this one.

Wilbur’s eyes are slightly wide, a smile sitting on his lips.

“Tommy.” Wilbur says breathily, like that single name holds all of the answers, and he doesn’t elaborate until Phil gestures at him to do so. “He does care about us, he wants to be here. We don’t have to find another coven to take him in.” He speaks fast, and if Phil didn’t know him like the back of his hand, he might even say he seems a little high at this moment. But Phil does know him, more than he knows himself even, so he knows that Wilbur wouldn’t do that, and that he’s just extremely happy at this revelation.

“And how do you know this? Actually- do I even want to know how you found this out?”

This time, Wilbur hesitates. It’s only slight but Phil notices it all the same. He almost presses again to get Wilbur to tell him what he did in his typical exasperated-father tone but it turns out he doesn’t need to, because Wilbur is speaking up a couple of seconds later. “He fed from me.”

What?

“He what?” Phil’s words mirror his stuttering thoughts.

“He fed from me.” Wilbur repeats, a breathless smile on his face. “You know fledglings can’t feed from another vampire like that unless they care for or like being around that person.” Phil doesn’t respond, so Wilbur adds. “Which means he wants to be here.”

“No, I heard you and it’s great that he took to you, but- Wil I thought we were going to wait until he settled in a bit more?”

“We didn’t have time. You’d have sent him to some other coven before he had the chance.” Wilbur clearly tries not to sound bitter, but the coven leader knows his son better than he knows himself. He heard the undertone in his voice.

“Wil, it was just a suggestion. A backup plan in case he couldn’t stay here for whatever reason.”

Wilbur, ever the impulsive one, blinks dumbly. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” The coven leader snorts, rearranging some papers on his desk. “Well I hope you're prepared to take on an clingy fledgling.”

Wilbur tilts his head cautiously. “…What do you mean?”

Phil meets his eyes, red on red. “Wil, when you bonded with me for the first time, I wasn’t able to leave you alone for weeks, and you were only left without a sire for a week before I found you. He’s probably been alone for months. He’s going to latch onto your bond like it’s his only lifeline, and it may be overwhelming for you.” He informs him, then he tacks on, “That’s why I told you to wait.”

The younger vampire shrugs it off. “I can deal with a little clinginess.”

“It’s not just that. You’ve also got to be careful about what you say and do around him. I’m sure he’s going to be imprinting on you now, so he’s gonna be sensitive. And I mean super sensitive. He could spiral if you say even one thing wrong.”

Wilbur nods, determined to get this right. “I’ll be careful Dad, I promise.”

“You’ve got this, son.” Phil affirms with a gentle smile. “I’ll be here if you need any help, so will the rest of the coven.”

Wilbur’s brows furrow. “Wait, aren’t you guys going to bond with him too?”

It’s typical that bondings within a coven happen in the same span of time, at least for the few who are closer to the fledgling or higher up in the hierarchy. For the rest of his family to wait, leaving only one person bonded with the boy, seems unusual.

“Forming too many bonds after being left alone for so long will overwhelm him.” Phil states. “He needs to take the coven transfer slower than most fledglings would.”

Wilbur looks sad — almost guilty — at this. “When will you bond then?”

“When I know he’s ready.” Phil answers. “I don’t agree with you bonding with him without telling us first, but I think it’s good that he’s bonded with someone now. He needs the company. Desperately. Any longer and he would’ve gotten sick.” He says solemnly.

“Fledglings can get sick if they aren’t bonded?” Wilbur questions. He never knew this, probably because of how rare it is for a fledgling to be left alone long enough for it to happen.

“If left alone for too much time, yeah. I’m surprised he hasn’t been showing signs of it to be honest. I’ve been keeping an eye out for any potential symptoms.” Phil answers.

Wilbur looks to the side, thinking. “Maybe he hasn’t been scorned for as long as we thought.”

“Or maybe the fledgling is still trying to push down his instincts which is in turn pushing away the sickness.” Phil counters sadly. For a fledgling to suppress their instincts, they have to be pretty troubled.

“Will the sickness come back now that he’s bonded with someone and is indulging his instincts?”

“It’s hard to say.”

They don’t know the specifics but they do know this; if Tommy does get sick, they’ll be there to help him.

———

Tommy wakes up disoriented; with the feeling of something being out of place the first thing he notices.

It’s almost overwhelming, whatever this weighted emotion is. For a moment, he’s not quite sure where he is, nor what he’s laying on. He thinks that maybe he’s dreaming.

The cold concrete of his alleyway isn’t usually this comfortable, is it?

Actually, come to think of it, he’s kind of warm too. A good warm.

The temperature of his alley usually seeps into his bones and makes his body shiver — a cruel reminder that he’s still partly human, just not enough.

Something isn’t right here.

He carefully peels his eyes open, taking in his blurred surroundings. For a moment, the large cushioned bed and the bars on his tinted windows don’t make a lot of sense. His brain stutters and doesn’t connect the dots immediately.

But then it hits him.

He’s with another coven.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep but after a couple of seconds of blinking blearily at his mattress, it all comes rushing back to him. Falling asleep on Wilbur being the first thing, but it’s not long until he begins to remember everything that happened before that.

And that’s when he realises what that heavy weight on his chest is. Or- maybe not what it is, and but he thinks he knows why it’s there, at least.

Tommy bonded with Wilbur.

Wilbur and Tommy coven bonded.

And yet the man is nowhere to be seen.

Did he really just leave him after that? Bonding is a pretty big deal for vampires so why would he just… disappear like this? Without even a single word to warn him of his coming absence?

Does that mean that the brunette doesn’t want to be bonded with him? That he doesn’t like him?

What if he regrets what they did?

Tommy can’t find it within himself to wish it didn’t happen, but he knows he can’t honestly say the same for Wilbur. Not unless he wants to feed into any newfound delusions to protect his fragile mind from the truth; the truth being that he isn’t a part of this coven, and that he can’t be part of a coven again.

(Not unless he wants history to repeat itself.)

But he can barely seem to process that thought before it’s gone again, and is replaced with a deep sense of grief. He feels so lost and alone all of a sudden, it’s all consuming, and he doesn’t know why or how to get the feeling to fuck off. All he knows is that the thought of Wilbur’s kind touches and softly spoken words makes him feel worse, because those things aren’t here. They aren’t happening to Tommy. Not right now, at least.

Wilbur is elsewhere. He should be right by Tommy’s side, soothing him in the way only coven members can, but he’s not.

Which means that it happened again. Another person that Tommy cares about left.

Caretaker’s red eyes aren’t in Tommy’s line of sight. They’re out there somewhere, looking at prime knows what. Most likely at people that aren’t Tommy.

He may even be with another new fledgling. Maybe last night was enough to deter Wilbur from him, maybe Tommy was too needy already. Too much.

Let’s be honest here, he probably doesn’t even care about Tommy. That he’s left alone, and sinking down-down-down into the depths of loneliness right now.

Maybe Wilbur never cared about him at all. Maybe Tommy deluded himself and the brunette took pity on him.

The possibility that Wilbur doesn’t and may not ever care for him is enough to bring tears to his eyes. Tommy isn’t sure when or why he got so attached, but he can’t see himself going back from it now. Wilbur’s embrace was so comforting and warm despite their supernaturally low temperatures. It was everything he’d ever wanted and more.

Is he really going to have to just let that go? After he’s only just got it?

What’s with the universe sparing him a taste of comfort before ripping the rug out from under his feet the minute he tries to settle down? It’s unfair. It’s cruel and horrible and Tommy wants no part of it (if only he had that choice).

Tommy’s cries aren’t enough to drown out his racing thoughts.

———

Techno had been stationed outside the fledgling’s room for a couple of hours now, keeping guard.

Wilbur left in a rush a while ago with no explanation other than, “Hey Tech. The kid’s asleep. I’ve gotta go talk to Phil, ok bye!”

The pink haired vampire checked in on Tommy first and foremost, and has since been keeping himself busy by counting the ridges in the wooden flooring, all while making sure to keep his ears and eyes peeled for any sight or sound of danger.

The great thing about being a vampire is that multitasking, particularly when it comes to their heightened senses, is almost too easy after a couple hundred years of practice. The not so great part though? It’s that he can hear everything if he isn’t actively trying to shut it out, meaning that Tommy’s wailing? Yeah, he’s pretty fucking sure he can hear that.

Techno immediately enters the code into the keypad beside the door and rushes in near silently — just in case he needs to take advantage of the silence to sneak up on any potential intruders or anything like that.

The sight that greets him is certainly not what he expected though.

There’s no unknown figures threatening his- the fledgling. No scenario where Techno can use violence to fight off any enemies and protect the kid. Nothing that Techno knows how to handle.

It’s just Tommy, curled up into a ball on the bed. And he’s crying.

Techno isn’t at all equipped for handling that — prime, he’s barely even prepared to witness that — so he almost retreats to fetch someone else to soothe the boy's worries. And he would’ve, if he didn’t think this could be some quality bonding time.

Look, he genuinely hates that Tommy is upset — it hurts to see — but the idea that he can help? That he can be of service to the boy? It makes something instinctual purr in the back of his mind. Techno’s love language has always been acts of service, so maybe this could be his way of showing Tommy that he’s beginning to care for him. That he can see him becoming a permanent part of their coven, even.

“Hey.” Techno tries, but Tommy doesn’t seem to notice his lingering presence. He shifts on his feet as he stares at the shaking boy. “Kid?”

Still nothing but sobs.

“Tommy?” Techno tries a little louder, and, thankfully, this time it works. He looks up at him, tears still spilling from his pretty, purple eyes. “Hey there.” Techno smiles sadly when their eyes meet. “What’s wrong kiddo?”

“I- he-” Tommy tries but he can’t seem to get his words out through his sobs. He’s hyperventilating, which usually isn’t common for vampires, but for a young vampire — one who hasn’t had the chance to properly grow yet no less — it’s possible. He’s still not completely undead yet, after all. “He’s-”

“It’s okay. Just breathe.” The irony of this statement isn’t lost on him, but he says it anyway. It seems to help a little at least. “There we go. Now can you tell me what’s up?”

“Wil-” Tommy hiccups. “Wilbur is gone.” His last word breaks off into a forceful sob, one that wracks his frame and makes him shudder.

“What? Tommy, I saw Wilbur a few hours ago. He's okay. It’s alright.”

This only serves to make Tommy sob harder, but Techno doesn’t understand why.

“He hates me. He’s gone and he hates me and I’m never gonna see him again and I’m gonna have to leave.”

“Woah, Toms, slow down.” He waits until Tommy has calmed himself down slightly, or at least stopped sobbing so much before he speaks again, this time low and careful. “What happened?”

“We- I need Wilbur.” Tommy just keeps crying, desperate. “Please. Please Techno I can’t- I need him.”

“You… need Wilbur?” Techno repeats slowly, trying to wrap his head around whatever the heck was going on. Then, a thought hits him.

Did they-?

No. Wilbur agreed to wait. He wouldn’t have bonded with him without Phil and Techno, especially not without telling them first.

Not unless… unless he wanted to be bonded with Tommy sooner so the kid would be less likely to be sent away. Crap.

Wilbur is a fucking dumbass.

But at least Techno knows what’s going on now; Tommy isn’t having some random breakdown, isn’t going insane, he’s just really deep in his instincts right now. Like deep deep.

It makes sense when Techno looks into Tommy’s eyes properly. When he notices his dilated pupils and the way his short claws try to dig into the skin of his arms to distract him from his perceived ‘loss’. Because Wilbur isn’t here, and Tommy doesn’t know where he is and his instincts seem to be latched onto him more intensely than Techno has ever seen any fledgling’s instincts latch onto anyone.

Wilbur left the room for a few hours and Tommy is left a blubbering mess in his absence? That’s not normal. In fact, it’s concerning.

Just Wilbur’s temporary disappearance is making Tommy sob like he’s lost him forever. Like he’s never going to see him again.

“Okay.” Techno begins, considering how to go about this. “Alright, Tommy. Why don’t I go get Wilbur for you, hm?”

“Yes. Yes please.” Tommy pleads immediately, but the second Techno goes to stand to get to him, the kid protests. “No!” Tommy sobs, latching onto Techno’s arm as he tries to stand. “Don’ go too.”

Techno just sits there watching the boy for a moment. “…I need to if you want me to get Wil.”

Tommy doesn’t respond. He just sobs again, the hand on his wrist not loosening. If anything, it almost feels tighter. “Please get him.”

“You’re still holding onto me kid.” He tries to soften his voice, to soothe the boy’s instincts as much as he can until Wilbur gets here. “I need you to let go so I can go get him, alright?”

The kid doesn’t seem to hear him, still latching on, and still sobbing. “I need Wilbur. I need him. Please.”

Techno ends up having to reach out to Wilbur using their coven telepathy. They don’t do it too often because it gives Wilbur a headache since he’s younger and less adapted to it, but right now? He needs to.

Without it, Techno isn’t sure what he’d do.

Tommy is crumbling right in front of him and there’s no way he’d be able to leave him alone like that, even just for a few minutes. Whether he wanted to or not, Techno isn’t sure his protective instincts would allow it.

So he sends the message through the coven bond, directing it towards his doofus brother.

Come-help-here.

Almost instantly, Wilbur responds. Confusion-brother-safe?

Safe-fledgling-sad.

It only takes less than a minute for Wilbur to get there; he must’ve been nearby and using his super speed.

The second Wilbur enters the room, Tommy’s demeanour shifts. He somehow becomes both more and less desperate. He stops pleading and begging for Wilbur’s presence, but he also tries to rush towards him the minute his eyes land on the brunette’s figure.

The issue with this is that he’s deep in his instincts. Too deep to notice the blanket wrapped around his legs, and too far gone to consider the consequences of standing so suddenly before detangling himself.

The next events seem to happen in slow motion; Tommy stands, and immediately pushes himself towards Wilbur without a moment's hesitation. Wilbur stalls in the doorway, confused and worried as he takes in the sight. Meanwhile Tommy’s foot gets caught in the blanket mid step, and when he tries to reorient himself, he just… doesn’t.

Tommy is lucky they have their super speed, and that Techno manages to catch him in time thanks to it, because he very nearly fell flat on his face.

He still doesn’t look aware enough to even care about that fact, though. He’s just pushing himself off of Techno and trying to get to Wilbur.

Fortunately, the brunette seems to take the hint, and he moves his feet forwards to meet Tommy in the middle. All the while, Techno keeps an eye on the blanket that’s just fallen underneath Tommy’s feet. He doesn’t want a repeat of what just happened.

The fledgling will not get hurt under his watch.

And with Wilbur here now too? Neither of the brother’s will hesitate to help the boy.