woohoo nightraycest song drabbles! getting my muse warmed up for the roleplay I'm about to do. |D i love these bbs.

WARNING: mentions of suicide / character death

From this Moment On; Shania Twain -

Somehow, it had all come together in the end. In the time Vincent had been alive, he had never once known peace like this. The very word was strange to him, for his story had been one of hatred and horror since he had opened his eyes.

For once, the sun rising over the continent was one not bathed in blood and treachery.

The plush in his hand was crafted in the shape of a small deer, and he turned it over with finely manicured fingers before smiling contentedly. In the gentle silence of one of the Nightray mansion's many lounges, the quiet snip of scissors was the only sound in the air. At least, for the first few moments.

"Haven't I told you to quit hacking up dolls, Vince?" A familiar hand snatched the deer from his grasp, and the younger Nightray lifted his head in surprise, expression quickly turning to fondness at the sight of his beloved brother.

He stood slowly, elegantly, and took a step or forward until he was snaking his arms around his elder's shoulders, a mischievous but affectionate glimmer in his bicolored eyes. "Nervous habit, I'm afraid. It's rather hard to break."

Gilbert exhaled in a low sigh before his arms came to loop around the younger's waist. "We should fix that, then."
Vincent's smile widened momentarily into a grin as his eyes closed. "Perhaps we should."

The Riddler; Nightwish –

"What?"

The pressure in the room threatened to completely engulf him and Vincent could only stand, rooted and unsteady, as he stared at the figure before him. She regarded him calmly, with a hint of that disdain she'd always held for him, that disdain they'd always held for each other before he realized that he needed her.

"I told you, I won't do it," she repeated in that same petulant tone, turning away from him and taking a couple steps away. Vincent stepped forward once, the initial shock on his face turning to near-murderous fury as the dolls lining the walls began to cackle in a haunting chorus.

Won't do it! The Will of the Abyss won't do any favors for the one who hurts us!

"Why not?" he demanded again. "Can't you see I'm doing this for my brother!? It's because of me that he - !"

"That's what they all say," she dismissed him carelessly, not for a moment fearing what he could do to her, knowing full well that she is the only one who could grant him his wish and so no matter how much he might want to rip her apart, to bathe the floor of the core in her blood, to hear her screams fall like melodies on his ears, he couldn't. "I don't like you," the Will said simply, "so you're going to have to find another way."

Our Solemn Hour; Within Temptations

(AU in which Leo and Vincent managed to subdue Gil and Oz in the battle in Reveille)

Gil woke to the sight of Vincent asleep on the chair before him. He didn't recognize their surroundings, but from what he could make out in the dim lighting it looked like a prison. Chains bound his wrists and ankles to the wall and pain surged low like fire through his veins. Lifting his head, Gil glanced around, but saw no sign of his master. A rattle of chains betrayed his alarm – where was Oz?

"Gilbert?"

He froze and looked up – Vincent had apparently been awakened by the clatter of his bindings. Gil scowled at his brother even as the blond slid off the chair and crouched in front of him, lifting a hand to brush at the dried blood congealed on his mouth. The elder Nightray jerked his head away, wincing as a lance of pain berated him for the sharp action. Vincent sat back then, remorse clear in his eyes. He didn't try to touch his brother anymore after that, but merely remained where he was, silent, as if hoping his brother would forgive him of his own accord.

"Where's Oz?" Gilbert managed to choke out, his voice raspy from lack of use. "Where am I?"

It was evident that the unwavering concern for his master even in such a circumstance cut into the younger Nightray, but Vincent concealed it well. For a long moment, he didn't answer, and when he did, it was as vague as if he had kept silent.

"You're with me now, brother."

Glitter in the Air; P!nk –

It was like feeling smoke slip through the gaps between his fingers. Only, the smoke had once been something solid, something he could grasp with his hands and tangle himself in and hold. Now it was merely air.

There was no place for memories here. It would merely make the knowledge that his brother had died – no, had finally gone through with his plan of killing himself – that much more painful. Most would say there were no good memories worth holding onto anyway. After all, what had Vincent ever been to the rest of the world besides an unfeeling, violent psychopath who was slippery as a snake at best and venomously malicious at worst?

But Gilbert knew better. He knew the love Vincent could carry for a person, knew how much he had wanted to be accepted into a world that would never forgive him. He was now vanished from that very world, but Gilbert had thought, he had thought, that his returning love had been enough. He had thought Vincent would realize that his plan all along had been stupid! He had thought…!

But he had never stopped to ask, had he. No, he knew, and that had made a life of difference.

Get Out Alive; Three Days Grace –

"You're the one who wanted to do this." A steady arm came to circle the shoulders of the blond, giving his upper arm an encouraging rub as he pulled Vincent closer against his side. The wind howled up from the chasm before them, foreboding, as if the very crater itself was trying to drive them away.

"On the contrary, I agreed to your insistences," Vincent weakly retorted. The effort of simply being here was already taking its toll on him as he found himself struggling to merely maintain his step and not collapse against the rock. Had it not been for Gilbert's support, he likely would have done that a while back. As the very air around them seemed to weave in front of his eyes, Vincent squeezed them shut and reached out a hand for the wall of stone and packed dirt behind him. "Stop here for a moment."

Gilbert relented, easing his brother back so he was propped against the shelf of earth, watching with intent concern as Vincent brought a hand to his temple and pressed hard. "You can't keep hiding from Sablier, Vince," his gentle reprimand was softened by the use of the nickname. This ghost town had nothing but bad memories for them both, but recently Gilbert had resolved that should they keep running from their own pasts, it would do neither of them any good.

Thus he had chosen to face them head on.

Watching his younger brother fight off the nightmares that raged inside his head, Gilbert frowned and stepped towards the blond, lifting a hand to settle on Vincent's shoulder. At the touch, Vincent's eyes snapped open, wide and distant, trying to combat the blood that had begun to seep through his remembrance. "Come on," Gilbert murmured forcefully, "don't give in. There's no one I'd rather face this place with than you."

The admittance brought the younger Nightray from his haze for a brief moment, seeming to help him clear his bloody thoughts. It was rare for Gil to display such openness, and he swallowed thickly, eyes searching his brother's face. "… Not even Oz?"

Gilbert's expression softened just slightly as he pressed his lips to his brother's forehead. "Not even Oz."

Breathe Me; Sia –

(AU again – events in this drabble didn't happen)

Without him, Gilbert would have truly lived.

That was what he had always believed. Their mother, a faceless shadow in their earliest memories full of disgust and hatred, would have never abandoned them if it had not been for the red-eyed demon she had given birth to. She would have loved Gilbert without him, and he would have been raised well, never subject to the horrors that had made him so unhappy since.

Vincent had since then sought to find some way, any way, to redeem himself of the sin of his life. He would have done anything to make it up to the brother had had wronged with his existence. And so when he had dragged Gilbert from the blazing inferno that had been the Baskerville estate where the massacre had taken place, where the ex-potential Glen had nearly died at the hands that had tried to him once, Vincent had been hoping again that he could right even a fraction of his past wrongs somehow.

"Oh, you're awake," Break looked from whatever he had been idly examining on the mantelpiece to greet Gilbert as he tried to sit up but failed. "Don't try to move just yet. It'll be a while before you're useful again."

Gilbert groaned as pain seized him. He settled back against the pillows and squinted against the sunlight. "What happened?"

"That sewer ra – " Break paused at the look Gilbert shot him, "ah, your brother saved you. Brought you back to stable condition and dumped you at our doorstep without even saying hello." The ex-knight's tone was far too cheerful for the occasion, and Gilbert furrowed his brow and redirected his golden gaze to the ceiling. Vincent? Vincent had saved him and he hadn't even gotten to see him? Gilbert looked down over the swaths of bandages wrapped around his torso and a thought occurred to him in dim passing.

Without him, I would have died.

Silhouette of a Dancer; Delain –

Vincent was beautiful with a gun.

It was a strange thought, especially in a situation as fraught as this one, but Gilbert couldn't help but still notice it. His brother knew how to use the weapon as if it was nothing more than an extension of his own hand, and had developed a genius with it in less than half the time it had taken Gilbert to do the same. He was a natural.

People streamed around them, screaming and crying as they maneuvered around chairs and tables. An ambush – they had come here knowing this would happen.

Gilbert ducked as one of the last men threw a punch at him, and lashed out to deal a crippling counterattack, sending the would-be attacker into a table, collapsing it with a crunch of wood. As he stood, a bullet whizzed not centimeters from his head, and he heard a cry sound behind him. Whipping around, he watched the last attacker crumble to the ground, the bullet buried deep in his throat.

He turned to see Vincent still holding his gun for a moment before holstering it, and realized his brother had just guarded his back. As silence descended in the otherwise empty room, Gilbert paused to watch his brother with an almost fascinated, drawn eye. He was an artist with the weapon, pale blond hair falling about his shoulders in a sweeping cascade, his eyes half-lidded in a serenity that bordered on reverse nirvana. Vincent was excellently composed, even content here in the carnage that shook others to their core, that had shaken him to the core so deeply he had taken refuge within it.

Vincent must have caught his gaze, and swept towards him with that distant smile that held more secrets than it told. "Don't let your mind wander too far, brother," he chuckled in that melodically evasive voice, and Gilbert was left with only a brush of black cloth to follow.