You Who I Called Brother

Chapter One: Better Than an Iron Mask

Hello friends we are back and looking so sexy and also my shirt is open? This fic was Vaysh's idea, but I did the bits at the end and begining. We are very excited to be putting this out, and also really glad not to be looking at it anymore.

Salem, Massachusetts

Three Years After the Treaty

"Holy—I—uhm—"

Worth grinned as Conrad gave up after the third false start and tightened his teeth around the skin at the doctor's collar, bruising deep into the muscle. Sensations were pretty similar, even with him being dead, and the pop of fang through his skin sent a jolt down his spine. The two of them were fumbling in the dark—hell, descriptions didn't get much more accurate that that—in the back of the RV, early in the evening while the world outside was only just starting to light up the streetlights, vague and a little dreamy still. Worth could feel the uncertain press of Conrad's thighs, pinching either side of him as he ground their hips together, pinned more or less in place by the vicious hold Conrad had on his throat. He wouldn't complain about that, though, not one damn bit.

Worth ran a hand up the smooth sides of Conrad's chest, noting with a little toothy satisfaction that he'd stopped wearing that damned t-shirt to bed a week ago and if that wasn't the Conrad-ese equivalent of saxophone music playing in the background then he'd eat his own pillow.

Conrad bit down harder and Worth pulled in a hiss of a breath. Fooling around with Conrad was a little like trying to fix yourself up in the mirror, he was finding out: everything was counterintuitive. The better you did, the more angry he acted.

Take for instance, Worth slipping down elastic by feel only, knuckles brushing a length of skin—and Conrad grabbed his shoulders like he was this close to throwing him off bodily, swore wildly into the bruises his teeth were still pressed against.

It threw him off his game the first time, it did, but the 'stop' he was waiting for never came, and god knew Connie was free as you goddamn like with revoking consent.

Conspicuously silent against Worth's neck, Conrad shuddered, hands dropping from Worth's shoulders to instead claw reflexively at the sheets. Worth thought about lifting one of those up to rest on his own back, maybe encourage him to rake his way down Worth's spine, but his free hand was a little busy at the moment and he was loath to lose momentum now after he finally, after all this time—

A shotgun blasted somewhere outside the RV like the end of the world in stereo.

"Shit," Worth hissed, head going up like a startled prairie dog.

"Well," Conrad said faintly. He coughed discretely, which was hilarious coming from a guy flat on his back with another man's hand still wrapped around his dick. "Uh."

Worth practically rolled off the bed, sullen as all hell and not afraid to show it. "Yeah yeah," he snarled, "duty calls 'n all that bullshit. Ya get off easy this time."

Conrad, still lying a little dazed on the bed, managed to mutter, "Poor word choice."

Of course, it turned out that the shotgun blast was absolutely nothing of interest whatsoever, and that was just so bloody typical Worth could barely summon up the fury necessary to threaten the living piss out of Hanna's trigger happy friends.

He did though. He definitely did.

-A-

It had been a dry spring, and among the humans who had survived in the years since the epidemic first crawled its way through lungs like rust across pipes, the topic of conversation was solely concerned with that year's crops. There were only a few times during the warmer season when one could plant, and without the rain, the more time passed, the more concerned they grew.

Dirt wheezed out of worn, bunching fabric as two undead men took seats at a table not too far from the hotel bar. The older of the two kicked feet up on the chair across from him, only half listening to the droning around him. It concerned him slightly. Hanna still ate. His meal tickets still ate. Fuck knew he still liked to smoke, even if it didn't do him any good any more. The vampire beside him sat with pursed lips. Nothing new there, really, but it was the hunch of shoulders as forearms rested on the tabletop that spoke of how deeply the situation was effecting him.

"Oi," an elbow to the ribs was met with a tightening of eyebrows, "calm down. Quit lissenin' in if it's buggin' ya s'damn much."

"Some of us like to keep abreast of the situation around us."

"Bullshit. 'm th' only one 'round here keepin' track o'breasts. Eeh, sides Hanna. He don't count, though."

"Ha," despite the annoyance in the face and voice, Conrad's shoulders relaxed a fraction. "Should I even ask why he doesn't count?"

"Ain't ever gettin' ter second base issee? 'nless yer volunteerin'. Dunno if I'm real comfortable with sharin', darlin'."

"Right, and now I see why I shouldn't have asked."

Worth grinned, more a bearing of teeth than a show of happiness. Their name was what had been getting them by in the past few months. Around here in the high cultured northeast, magic wasn't new, wasn't special. Everyone knew a trick or two these days. Hell, Hanna was responsible for a good portion of that. No good runes for growing crops, though, Worth had already asked about that one. It just went right back to the life for life bullshit, and he wasn't letting the kid run himself dry for an ear or two of goddamned corn.

Your best bet was to find a high powered ghoulie and contract them to keep the stock in order, but gods were kind of thin on the ground these days and generally more trouble than they were worth.

Mugs thunked onto the table, two warm, and one fizzing. Volunteers were easy to find at Treatyfest. Hell, there were even small factions of fangirls out there. Their interest in the doctor had only grown (and become something he was aware of) after Conrad had taken it upon himself to bring Worth back. Damn shame, he thought, tilting back his mug of blood, but it figured. Every time he thought he might get laid, something had to come in and cockblock. Even with the sporadic nature of it, he had been having more sex before starting this sort of official thing with Conrad, and now that things were out in the open, even with them still sharing a bed, he hadn't gotten farther than a few stunted attempts at fumbling in the dark.

This evening had been the first time it had really looked promising, and you can see how well that went.

Who the hell wanted to be a thirty-one year old virgin? Conrad goddamned Dillon Achenleck, apparently. Maybe he believed that internet rumor about turning into a wizard if you made it to your forties. Stupid. Vampires couldn't use magic.

Also, stupid middle name.

Stupid ears.

Stupid face.

Yeah, Worth was giving it another go later that night. Maybe if he could get Conrad drunk again. Could be a good idea. Someone was approaching them, Worth could hear the heartbeat and smell the sweat on skin. Female, healthy enough, but underfed, just like most people these days, coming out of the lean, harsh time of winter. Probably another fangirl. Goddamned annoying.

"Excuse me."

"Innaminute, sweetheart. 'm busy." Conrad would probably take care of shooing her off. Worth was preoccupied figuring out how to convince Conrad it was a good idea to get hammered again. The last time he'd managed it, Conrad had managed to knock over a house. It had been intentional that time, though. Funny as hell, if you ignored the mission they'd had to go on to repay the governor of that particular village.

Who the fuck eats dragon eggs, anyway? Smell like sulfur.

"I said, excuse me. I'm talking to you."

Persistent and a little bitchy. Something about her was reminding him of someone. Whatever. Time to give the shove off via a long and well timed drink of blood.

"Luce."

Well that had his attention. Red eyes wide and startled, he looked up. The mug in his hand drooped, body frozen by the shock of seeing a face that he didn't think he'd ever see again, one he'd forced himself not to hope to see again, had tried to scrub from his mind. He swallowed before croaking, "…'Liv?"

The sharp crack of knuckles against his face tipped him enough, knocking him out of his sprawl in the chair and onto his back. Wood scraped and thumped as the chair fell beside Worth and the woman began to rage. "You fucking asshole! All this time! You've been alive all this time!"

Fingers rubbed the hollow between cheekbone and jaw. "Well, not 'xactly."

Her hair was still short the way he remembered it, still that unnerving shade of pale gold, so much finer than his own. Her eyes were like his used to be, though, deep and blue and far too worn and weary. Conrad was stuck in place, body poised to intervene, humming on the edge of a shape shift. He spared his partner a glance before slowly rising to his feet. "Tell ya wot. Less have a sitdown 'n' we kin go over all this like adults."

"Oh fuck you," she snorted, glancing over her shoulder and giving a quick jerk of her head at someone she had spotted behind herself. The woman's long limbs folded themselves into a chair, one arm draping itself over the back, the corners of her eyes were tight and mouth pulled down into a scowl as she huffed. "You're buying."

"Yeah, fine." Joke was on her. Shit was free for them here. Slowly he righted the chair and sat in it around the same time that a man showed up, hovering uncertainly behind Liv like a concerned shadow. "Be a lady 'n' watch th' language."

"You should talk," she let two waiters pass before hailing an older woman. "Whiskey. Bottle."

He scowled. "Not gettin' nothin' fer yerself?"

"Don't even start on that."

"Ain't startin' on nothin'. Shouldn't be drinkin' that shit."

"Luce, I'm thirty three years old." Her eyes rolled.

The man continued to hover behind her, sharing guarded glances with Conrad.

"Look, I'm sorry but," Conrad interrupted, clearly not sorry at all, "explanation, please?"

"Wot, ya ain't figured it out yet, Connie? Don't see no resemblance?"

His ladyship squinted, hovering between a bitchy retort and actually looking at the two blondes seated with him before leaning back in his chair, nostrils flaring as he made the connection.

"Jesus Christ, there are more of you. That's just what the world needs. Also," an accusing finger pointed. Bad habit. Worth wondered where he'd picked it up from, "fuck you. You never once told me you had a sister."

"Nice, Luce, real nice. Good to see you care so much."

Brother and sister stared at each other across the table. Conrad cleared his throat. "Yes, well, I'm sure you two have oodles to catch up on-"

"Oodles?" Christ, they'd said that in stereo. It had even weirded Worth out.

"Yes," the larger of Conrad's fangs poked out over lower lip, "so why don't we just leave you two alone to hash things out? I'll, ugh, go find Hanna or Zephyr or something, I suppose."

Hoverman placed a hand on the woman's shoulder and leaned down near her ear. "I'll just be a few tables away if you need me."

She smiled up at him, patting his hand, and Worth's trigger finger twitched. The man and Conrad each wandered off and a bottle found its way to the table. Worth popped his neck. "Yer boyfriend looks like a real fag, Olivia."

Thin eyebrows raised. "So does yours."

"Feh," he snatched the bottle before his sister could, taking a swig directly from it with a grimace.

"He as cold a fish in bed as he looks?"

"Colder."

"Sucks to be you. Mine puts out."

"Sucks ter be him. 'm gonna kill 'im."

"You've said that about every guy I ever brought home."

"Difference is," he pointed with the bottle, "I kin do it now real easy. Ain't no one gonna say a thing."

"I would say things haven't changed," she bit out, eyeing his mouth.

"Yeah, like I said. Ain't 'xactly alive." Ugh, the whiskey was rolling in his stomach. Time to put the bottle down and switch to the fairy wine. Or just get more blood. Or get Betsy.

The woman's fingers rapped against the table top as she watched him. "Why did you do it? Why'd you turn against us?"

He grimaced against the angry tides in his stomach. "Fuck're ya on 'bout? Ain't turnin' 'gainst no one."

Olivia's face was stony, difficult to read. God she really was older now, wasn't she? A cigarette made its way to her mouth. "You're one of them now, Luce, don't deny it."

"Wot, a vampire? Yeah, fine, so I'm one a th' undead douchebags. Blame th' cold fish. I was dyin' 'n' he turned me. Heat a th' moment kina thing." He was torn between chastising her for smoking and asking to bum a light. Ah, well, good on her for not listening to him on the no smoking thing. Hard to bitch at her for it now. He still could, it would just be hard.

"C-" she hesitated a moment, taking a deep drag, blowing it out slowly before resuming. "That vampire turned you?"

"Yeah. Don't look like much but most vamps're all pomp an' bullshit. Connie at least don't put on no airs." She looked unconvinced and he continued. "Ain't s'bad. Has its perks." He sniffed, tasting her pheromones in the back of his throat. "Know ya ain't pregnant or nursin', fer one. Guess Romeo ain't 's perky in th' sack as yer claimin'."

"Not for a lack of trying," she grinned at his immediate glare. ""IUDs are a wonderful thing."

"Ain't good, Liv," he licked his lips, fingers rubbing against the mug of wine, medical complications quickly running through his brain.

"Oh it's been great."

A muscle in his jaw jumped. "I ain't fuckin' around here. How long ya had it? At least four years now? Only good fer five. It's gotta come out."

"I know, Luce." She picked up the whiskey bottle, rolling it back and forth in her hands, taking her eyes off of him for the first time, fervently reading the worn and water stained label.

"Do ya?" It wasn't the most savory thing to think on, but sometimes you had to do things you didn't want to do. "Fine. I'll take it outta ya. There're some decent med stations 'round here-"

Olivia's head shot up, face screwed up with disgust. "Ugh, no. I don't care how close we've been, Luce, we are not…no. No, absolutely not."

"Liv."

"Look I have someone," at his disbelieving stare she set the bottle down. "I do. She's back at the town where I was staying. We were doing a shoot out there when the world went tits up. She's a good doctor. She's going to remove it. I just," a brief hesitation, "need to take care of a few things first."

"Like?"

"…A few things." The bottle met her mouth and she took a drink, hissing as it rolled down her throat.

"Yeah, like that ain't cryptic. Fuck're ya up to?"

"Ah, ah. Language, Luce. What would mother think?"

"She wouldn't. She'd 've been passed out on th' couch by three in th' afternoon."

She smiled wryly, back to looking at the bottle. "I suppose so. Unless it was a dinner party night. She stayed sober for those well enough."

"Sure did. Plen'y attention sent her way ter keep clean."

Olivia looked back up at Worth. "I guess you still remember enough. I wasn't sure how much demons remember when they turn. How much of you remains you, if anything does."

"Ain't no demon, 'Liv. 'm jus' me. Only difference is I might live a li'l longer 'n' I got some shitty new allergies."

"What might those be?" Eyes narrowed, the corners of her mouth tilted downwards.

Worth picked up the mug of blood, swirling the thickening contents with a finger. "Less jus' say I ain't gonna be spendin' time at th' beach."

"Don't want to give away secrets, then?"

"Ain't no real secrets ter vamps. 'cept," the finger pressed into his mouth, dragged along his teeth. He had no idea how the hell Conrad had kept eating the bagged shit. Fresh was the only type that ever really put a halt to the dry rasp in the back of his throat. "Th' rice thing? Yannow, where ya dump out a bag 'n' we gotta sit there 'n' count it? Only works on the ones with OCD."

Olivia looked less than impressed. "OCD demons?"

"They're out there. Hell, most of 'em got th' same or worse neurosis that humans do. Unseelie tend ter be easier ter deal with than humans most a th' time. Easier ter read, more honest intentions."

"Right. Of course. I'll definitely believe that coming from, well," a vague gesture towards Doc Worth was followed by a sigh, arms crossing in front of Olivia's chest.

Worth's own arms crossed as well, wooden back of the chair digging in just below his shoulder blades as he leaned back in his seat. "Ya gonna tell me wot's buggin' ya, 'Liv? Or 'm I supposed ter jus' guess it? Always hated when ya pulled that bullshit."

"I don't exactly like demons."

"Yeah, pretty sure I caught that earlier. 'm still me. Hell, wot, ya afraid they're gonna try 'n' steal yer purse or sommat?" It was Worth's turn to gesture, this time towards where Conrad had wandered off to stand uncertainly at the bar. "If they're stealin' anyone's purse, it's Conrad's, not yers, 'n' he's 'one a them'. Maybe ya ain't noticed but we're surrounded by Seelie 'n' defected Unseelie 'n' ain't no one tryin' ter-"

"They killed everyone."

Worth's jaw snapped shut.

"Where I live? Or where I used to live, anyway. One night a group of them came. Very few survivors. They weren't after purses."

Cold sickness lanced through Worth's chest. "They do anythin' ter ya?"

"No. Not to me." Hands rubbed thin arms. Olivia looked around herself, thinking before speaking again. "But they did enough. I need to get some supplies and run a few errands before I can go back and before we can even start to rebuild."

He had a feeling Olivia wasn't telling him everything. Typical. As close as they had been, between their age difference and the decided lack of positive role models, he had been a pseudo parent to her more often than not. It meant she would tell him things in time, but never give him everything at once. "Wotcha need? We got pull here. Kin getcha pretty far."

There was a slight stiffening in her posture. "Thank you. I will take you up on that. But I feel I should warn you, I am wearing an iron cross."

He snorted a laugh. "'Liv, yer jus' 'bout th' farthest thing from somethin' I wanna eat."

"Maybe, but I don't know about your friends." She was looking back towards the bar as well. "A preemptive warning can't hurt."

"Connie ain't had his mouth on no one but me in months. We get-" he shook his nearly empty mug for emphasis, "-donations. Th' zombie don't eat nothin' 'cept th' sunshine 'n' rainbows comin' outta Hanna's mouth. Hanna eats food like a normal bloke." Worth finished off the mug despite his sister's obvious chagrin. "'n' don't think ya gotta worry none 'bout Hanna gettin' handsy. Kid's an idiot, but he'll keep his hands to himself, not that iron's gonna do anythin' ter him."

"Alright. I guess I could use the help. I have a gun, too, though. Thought I'd mention it."

"Good start," Worth pushed back from the table. "Less getcha another."

-A-

As expected, Olivia hadn't been giving up all the pertinent information at the start. Away from most of the various non-humans she had been more willing to open up, and Worth was scowling as they sat inside the camper.

He looked at them from where he leaned against the kitchenette counter. Directly across from him was the eating nook, with Conrad seated on the edge closest to Worth, then Hanna, Olivia, and on the far side by the driver's seat, Mr. Hover with a thankfully quiet, but unexplained, child in his lap. The kid better be a relic from Mr. Hover's past. For the time being, Worth wasn't asking. He was distracted.

"Bullshit. Ya ain't doin' it."

"Have you ever successfully told me what to do, Luce?"

"Seem ter recall a few times. There was that party ya wan'ed ter go ter. Made it real clear that wasn't happenin'." He cast a warning glance at Hanna's lowering gaze. The mage only managed to raise his eyes and the flush in his cheeks just before earning himself a quick cuff upside the head.

"Barricading me in my bedroom doesn't count as making me do what you want."

"'Fraid it does."

"Well then you might as well count the time you picked me up and carried me out of Bret's car."

"Yer damn right I will. He was only after one thing 'n' I wasn't havin' it."

Blue eyes rolled in Olivia's head. "Oh for God's sake, Luce, we were sitting at a drive in restaurant eating."

"Wait," Conrad interrupted, staring incredulously from behind hazy lenses, "are you seriously telling me you pulled your sister out of a car while she was on a date?"

Olivia pursed her lips. "Hamburger in hand. And all we were doing was eating. That's it."

"Yeah, thass wot ya were doin' then," he scowled and pointed his finger. "Soon's ya let yer guard down he was takin' ya ter Anal Makeout Point or sommat."

"That doesn't even exist, and we were going to go to a movie not-"

"Oh like he weren't gonna do somethin' in th' theater?"

"I could handle myself. You didn't have to throw me in your car and then go back to beat him up."

"Bullshit. 'Course I did." The doctor retracted his accusatory finger, feeling some personal pride. "Was makin' a point."

In an effort to continue living, Hanna had covered his eyes with both hands. "Did you beat him up with the hamburger? I remember that one time you broke a sub over a guy's head."

"That was a one time thing. Used fists on loverboy. Shoulda taught ya more self-defense b'fore lettin' ya outta th' house."

"Luce," Olivia looked nearly pained, "I don't think Lamont's testicles could have taken any more of my self-defense."

"Dear God, should I even ask? No, no, I shouldn't," fingers pinched the bridge of Conrad's nose. "I shouldn't at all, but morbid curiosity compels me to do so."

"I held 'Mont down so she could practice her kicks 'n' knees."

"Charming, Worth. Simply, charming. Bravo. Well done. I'm sure they both got so much out of that interaction."

Worth waved a hand dismissively. "Bah, was good fer 'm"

"I'm sure that's exactly what Lamont was thinking when he pissed blood. You really have been a completely narcissistic maniac your entire life, haven't you?"

Liv's exasperated half-grin faded, and she tapped the table with one short nail. Back to business then. "So are you going to help me or not? I don't want to have to take them on alone, but if I have to, I will."

"Bullshit ya will. This whole scheme is fuckin' stupid. Settin' aside th' danger a tryin' ter kill 'em, how in th' hell do ya expect ter track down an entire group a Unseelie, anyway?"

"I don't need the whole group. I just need to find their leader. That's all."

"Yeah, thass all. Good Christ, 'Liv." Long fingered hands dragged down Worth's face like vines spreading across a building. "Yer talkin' suicide. Ya do realize that, don't ya?"

Her voice was soft but stern. "I made a promise, Luce. I need to come through on it."

"Second option?" Hanna held up one of the hands that had been covering his wandering eyes. "We can totally take you to a safe location and get you set up there. I think this is an excellent option and support it fully so we can not do that other thing, ok?"

"Can you move everyone in an entire settlement? We may have lost a lot of people, but it could have been worse. A large portion of us were out on a trading trip and returned to the soot."

"Third option," the doctor leaned against the side door. "Think we got some rope somewhere. Don't take much ter hogtie someone."

From the passenger's seat up front, a low voice curled out like water across parched earth. "Perhaps there is a fourth option."

"Hopefully a reasonable one," grumbled Conrad, cleaning glasses with the tail of his shirt while Olivia and Mr. Hover kept their eyes on him.

"Hey, mine was totally reasonable! C'mon!"

Worth sometimes hated it when the zombie interjected his own thoughts. He nudged Hanna's head hard enough to earn silence and an irritated look from Conrad. Maybe he shouldn't have shoved his arm out in front of Connie's face to do it. "Fuck it, I'll give a lissen. Wotcha got, green bean?"

"The council has been keen on finding the pockets of resistance. They have also done a thorough job of, hmm, I believe the word they used was 'cleansing' them." Road cone glow bounced from the inside of the windshield, tinting the dashboard. "It is not entirely unreasonable to assume that if information is gathered, the council would be ready and willing to provide 'cleansing' of this particular group of Unseelie. As a result, your sister Olivia should remain safe, we should remain safe, but her ultimate goal will still be achieved. If she then chooses to accept Hanna's offering of a new home, we may have had enough time to find a suitable location to house all of her fellow villagers. All we have to do is gather the information."

Worth sometimes didn't mind when the zombie interjected his own thoughts. He took a considering breath, arms across his chest. After a moment he looked over to his sister. "'Liv?"

"It…sounds reasonable enough. But…" Her eyes met Worth's gaze. "If that means I get what I want, I'll agree to it. Oh," blue narrowed, "and before ya even try to go there, don't think this means ya get to still rope me and toss me off in some locked room. I'm committed to seeing this through, Luce, and I'll shoot ya myself if I have to."

Conrad slid the polished glasses back into place. Didn't do a damn bit of good to rub dirty glasses with dirty clothes, but the one fanged fag seemed to just be stuck in a habit of it. Maybe it was part of the OCD. "Where would you shoot him, exactly?"

"His ass, of course. A pain in the ass for a pain in the ass."

The vampire smiled. "You know. I think I may actually be growing fond of you."

She looked across the human barrier of eyes-still-covered-but-peeking-through-the-fingers Hanna, teeth bared in a grin. "Fancy going out back with me, then?"

The vampire's back straightened, head tilting to the side with confusion. "What? Why would we go somewhere."

"You know. So we can be," She gave the next word as much weight as possible, eyebrows raising on her tall forehead. "alone."

Conrad flailed. That motherfucker actually flailed and nearly fell off of the bench. Worth had to pinch the inside of his arm to keep from laughing. "Oi," he managed eventually as Conrad shrank his way out of the booth with all the wild eyed terror of a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, "knock it off. Ya ain't even each other's type. Well, 'cept fer th' fact that 'Liv seems ter like fags."

Mr. Hover didn't look particularly pleased by that comment. Worth batted his eyes at him and allowed fangs to peek over his lower lip. Mr. Hover looked decidedly less happy now and cleared his throat. "Olivia? It's late. Maybe we should head out. Let Chloe get some sleep?"

"Yeah, I guess. Seems like she's doing just fine in your lap, but," her obvious stare at Worth's fangs had him almost feeling a pang somewhere in his chest, "it would be good to have her lie down somewhere."

"Kin stay here. Got a back room. Kin sleep there with th' kid 'n' loverboy kin sleep up front with us."

As they scooted their ways out of the dining nook and off of Hanna's bed, the corners of her mouth wrinkled in a way that definitely did something to the inside of Worth that he was staunchly ignoring. "Yeah, I'm sure that would be a great idea." Standing, she hesitated, a haze of uncertainty filtering across her face briefly. "We'll come back by tomorrow…night, I guess. The help is…appreciated, Luce."

Her hand raised, held itself out before Worth. He swallowed once, feeling a slight burn behind his eyes as he slowly unfolded his arms to shake his sister's hand. It was warm. Incredibly warm. He could feel his palm leeching heat from her skin. "Yeah. Wotever. See ya later. Best not let him get handsy. I'll know it if he does."

Her hand fell free, and Worth wasn't sure if she was putting it in her pocket for warmth or if it was to wipe the feel of him from her palm. "Yeah, I'll take it under advisement. Get sleep or, whatever you do now. Eat a goat or something."

"Goats taste too goat-y." He looked up and over towards the old, faded curtains draping listlessly across the closed breakfast nook window, his own hands sliding down into the front pockets of his jeans. "But I'll take it under advisement."

"Yeah. Do that."

He heard them leave rather than saw it, much abused side door whining a complaint as it was opened and eventually shut behind his sister, her faggot boyfriend, and the quietest kid he'd ever met. He sighed once. "'m goin' ter sleep."

"What? It's only two or three in the morning."

"Then I want ter be, y'know," Worth batted his eyelashes at Conrad, "alone."

"Oh fuck you."

"If ya want. I'll give my consent."

Conrad snorted, but Worth didn't offer further comment, shuffling his way into the back room. Once there, he stretched out on his back, one arm slung across his eyes. It had been more than a full evening for him and among all the thoughts fighting for dominance in his head, the winner seemed to be what the fuck kind of a mess were they about to stir up this time?

-A-

At about 8:00 the next evening, the sun went down. The world flickered on, shadows shaking one by one from Doc Worth's senses until his consciousness lay blinking and naked. Him and his consciousness both, actually, give or take a pair of shorts.

Conrad was already gone, which was pretty unusual. Must be cloudy out—Conrad was more sensitive to that sort of thing than him.

Worth stretched, doing a couple impressively stupid looking things while nobody was around to see him do them. Being dead was one hell of a relief on the gradually decrepifying muscles and goddamn he hadn't been this in shape sense he was twenty-five, but better wasn't perfect and his carcass still took some (unfortunate) upkeep.

Halfway through something vaguely yoga, there was a knock on the door. Straightening up like a snap, he attempted to adopt the casual stance of someone who hasn't been performing faggy acts of bodily upkeep. Hm. That could actually include a wide range of things, come to think of it.

"Ya need somethin'?" he called, glancing around the room to see if he could pin down a cleanish shirt.

"Oh good you're up," Hanna's voice called back. "Your sister's antagonizing Conrad and I am so not getting in the middle of that like ever, but if you wanna like, throw a bucket of ice water on them or something be my guest."

Worth dug the heel of his palm into his eye socket. Way too early for this bullshit.

"Awright ya goddamn coward, I'm comin'."

"Hey, you're the one that keeps telling me to exercise a little self-preservation. Well hey!" He slapped the door, "I'm doing it!"

Worth yanked the door open so quickly that Hanna, who'd been leaning on it, tumbled sideways into the room and landed on his shoulder in a sprawl.

"So you'll run headfirst inter a ghoulie's tender embrace but ya won't tap my baby sister on the back?"

"Whaaaat," Hanna whined, rubbing futilely at his smushed shoulder, "she's a Worth, dude. Waaaaay scarier."

The doctor shrugged, a little mollified despite himself. "Well," he grunted, "let's see what the damage is, then."

Outside the RV, a little ways to the side, Conrad and Liv were snarling at each other like cats in a territory dispute. Liv's faggot boyfriend was observing it uneasily, eyes flickering now and then to the white point of Conrad's protruding fang—when he opened his mouth, though, you could see the short but wicked curve of the second too.

Conrad spotted Worth immediately. "Would you talk some sense into your sister!" Conrad shouted, fist planted on hip.

"I'unno," Worth called back, fluffing the fur around the collar of his coat. "In my experience yer the one more likely ta bust inter a tizzy. Not on yer period today are ya, darlin'?"

"What?" Conrad nearly shrieked. "You absolute fucking traitor!"

"Don't worry Liv," the doctor said, as he stepped up the curb with on long stride, "'e's prolly just sufferin' from a bout'a hysteria, in my medical opinion. Yanno we got ways'a treatin' hysteria," he added, with an eyebrow wiggle in Conrad's direction.

Conrad scowled. "I'd rather have a Victorian dildo up my ass than talk to you right now," he muttered, quiet enough that if Worth hadn't recently had his aural abilities improved by about tenfold, he wouldn't have been able to make it out.

"Explicit," he remarked, with a bit of a whistle.

"Ugh," Conrad huffed, and took off with a stomp.

"So," Worth said, turning back to his sister, "what's the dispute with her ladyship, then?"

Liv sighed and lit up her cigarette, the bright end flaring orange in the falling darkness. "Your boyfriend wants to drive the RV on our little road trip, Luce."

"Yeah? And?"

Liv frowned. "And?"

"And what else, then?"

"Nothing else," Liv said, frustrated.

The doctor held up one hand. "Wait," he said, "yer tellin' me you two got in a fight cause ya don't want Connie ter drive?"

"That's the gist of it, yeah," she replied, breathing pale smoke.

Worth hissed out a sigh. "Shit Liv, now ya gone an' done it. Gonna hafta call the princess back over here 'n apologize, an' I ain't no good at that."

"Apologize for what?"

"Pickin' the wrong horse. Liv, Connie's our regular pilot. Ain't nobody told you?"

"He mentioned it," she said, offhanded as you please.

Worth felt his brows furrow. "Then what's yer problem, eh?"

"My problem is that I'd rather not have a demon behind the wheel if it's all the same to you."

"Y'know I ain't one ter point fingers, but yer terminology could use some tweakin'. Ya can't go around callin' every moonlighter in the city a demon, this is a cosmopolitan type area."

"What would you have me call them then?"

"Well Conrad fer one is a regular old vampire, and a damn competent driver."

"Maybe so, but I'm not going anywhere with him behind the wheel."

"Oh yeah? Who else ya wanter drive ya?"

"I could, or Virgil would be fine with me."

Worth lifted an eyebrow and glanced around the street. "Ya want the stumblin' dead guy to drive ya, but ya got a problem with Connie?"

"Not—" Liv started, and then paused, bewildered. "His name is Virgil?"

Worth shrugged. "Dunno what his name is today, thought you knew."

She shook her head. "No," she said, firmly, "not that… either. Virgil is my boyfriend, which you would know by now if you were even remotely interested in my life."

"I'm in'erested in yer life Liv. I ain't much interested in yer boyfriend. There's a difference."

"I don't really think there is."

"We ain't havin' this conversation right now. Conrad's drivin' an' that's that, ya take it 'r leave it."

The second the words came out of Worth's mouth, he realized he'd made a tactical misstep. That was not the right threat to make, not even remotely—she'd barely agreed to come with them at all, and even that had been a bargain. His knee-jerk reaction had been that same old snap, but this wasn't his baby sister needing the car for a barely approved date night. This was not at all the same.

But instead of balking and stalking off, Liv pursed her lips and stared hard at nothing—calculating maybe. After a cold second of contemplation, she looked up again. Her blue eyes flashed with something like grim resolve.

"Fine," she said. "But I'm riding shotgun."

(TBC)