This is likely a one-off, though I do have a sequel in the works. I don't own the intellectual rights to any of the mentioned characters, places, or ideas, but if I did I would have written better dialogue in the original film. The fic is slightly AU with the film's timeline, but it makes for better pacing. They should have considered it.

Sometimes love is just plain evil. Tyler/Chase

Postcards from Albania

If Tyler Simms had been honest with himself, he would have kind of known that this was a bad idea, even in the beginning. Charming, feisty, sarcastic men had a tendency to be, well. Feisty. He'd learned this the year he turned thirteen, when that brat Johnny Finch had made out with him while Finn Stephenson had snuck into Tyler's bunk and stolen his step-dad's Metallica tape. It had broken Tyler's heart in that I'm-never-randomly-making-out-with-you-again, pre-teen sort of way. If the tape had wound up a smelly, malformed mound of clear plastic and magnetic tape welded to the inside of Finn's walkman, well, Tyler had no idea how that happened.

After his step-dad had found out that Tyler had the tape in the first place, he'd flipped out—mildly. It was only a tape, after all. That was the last time Tyler went away to summer camp on his own, but it was worth it—revenge was a dish best served melty.

Past experience notwithstanding, he wasn't a deep enough individual to be capable of turning down the affections of a dark-haired blue-eyed suitor when he received them. Even if he was pretty sure that Chase Collins was totally unhinged. It wasn't that Tyler really lacked in moral fiber. He was honestly kind of a goodie two-shoes—to be childish about it. He did his homework on time, he got back to the dorms well before curfew, he even had been known to help old ladies cross the street in downtown Ipswich. Mostly for money, but the inherent kindness of the deed stood out, he thought.

It was one night after swim practice, early in the semester. Tyler had a headache, and was moving kind of slowly—so when Reid had suggested that they all head out to Nicky's, Tyler had just waved them on. He had taken an extra-long shower, relishing the fact that fewer bodies in the shower room meant the water was slightly warmer and the pressure was better. He had expected to be alone in the locker room by that point, though after the fact he kind of felt he should have expected the unexpected.

The abnormal was the normal in Ipswich, after all.

"Do you always let them shove you around like that, or is this a one-time performance?" If it wasn't for the fact that he was so used to towel fights and other shenanigans in the gym, Tyler might just have lost his towel. He wrapped it around himself a little tighter, laughing a little, dryly, trying to play off his surprise.

"I wouldn't say they push me around. I didn't want to go." Chase made a stifled noise in his throat, like a laugh but dryer somehow, and Tyler raised an eyebrow. "What? I have a headache."

"Is that what you say to all the boys?" Tyler rolled his eyes. So he was going to turn out to be another one of those homophobic assholes. Tyler didn't say anything, just sliding his shirt on, following it with his shorts. He was toweling his hair dry—an oddly girly compulsion that he couldn't bring himself to shake—when Chase spoke again. "So. Caleb's kind of hot."

Tyler raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, Caleb's kind of hot. He's also kind of straight."

Chase mocked surprise, which Tyler only noted as he tossed the towel into a laundry bin. "What, aren't all the noted Sons of Ipswich kind of straight?"

Maybe Aaron was right about this one, after all. Tyler just smiled, snapping his watch on his wrist and tugging his jacket over his shoulders—which he swore was totally just because he was getting cold and not at all because he felt cool like Tom Cruise in Top Gun when he did it. "Why don't you tell me what you think, Chase?"

Chase stood up from where he'd been lounging, his long legs stretched across the width of the locker aisle. "Why don't I show you what I think, Tyler?"

Tyler didn't get home until after curfew that night. After Reid, who turned to him with bleary eyes and mumbled something to ask why he was so late. "My step dad was shot."

Reid blinked and sat up, concern flooding his face. "Wait, what?"

Tyler blushed a little red on the apples of his cheeks, his voice low. "My step dad got shocked. Finger in electric socket. He tripped and—fell into the wall. While his hand was wet." Tyler realized that he was probably only getting away with this because Reid was asleep. "He hurt a little, and um. Scared mom, but everyone's alright now." Tyler paused for a second. "So you should go back to sleep."

Reid paused, and Tyler bit his lip. He was going to protest. No one was stupid enough to fall for this, Reid was going to protest. Reid yawned and rolled over, falling asleep. Tyler was safe.

Only, of course, safe was a relative term. It was in between classes and particularly risky—not to mention kind of oddly uncomfortable, since the broom closet really felt like it was closing in around them tighter with every breath. Maybe it was—was he using? Chase made his mind kind of fuzzy and to be honest, Tyler got off on the feeling. Dark, tousled hair tickled his chin as Chase teased up his neck. Tyler moaned, and squirmed away a little.

"Chase, stop." Chase bit his jaw, eyes flashing with the kind of manic amusement that so defined him. "No, seriously. I have to get to Algebra."

"You don't need Algebra, you're never going to use it."

Tyler's nose wrinkled, mostly because he didn't really like being pushed around, even if he did tolerate it from his friends. "I might need Algebra."

Chase pushed Tyler hard back against the bookshelves, which were full of bottles of solvent and industrial cleaners without pronounceable or interesting names. It was a little rougher than it needed to be, which honestly kind of turned on Tyler a little. "Are you planning on being a doctor?" Tyler shook his head no—continuing to do so for each option in the litany. "A scientist? A mathematician? A financier? An interior designer?" The last one made Tyler's eyes narrow, playful, still, though. He shoved Chase back, lightly, though Chase held on. Tyler liked letting him think he was stronger, and Chase kind of liked it, too. "Then what exactly do you want to do with your life that would need Algebra?"

The problem with these kinds of questions was that Tyler knew, intimately, that there was no grand future for him. For any of them. They were intimately tied to the town, destined to guard the Book of Damnation, to control the secret of the covenant as the world grew up and matured around them, stubborn and unyielding. "Reid kind of dreamed about going into construction. He has money from his granddad, so he was thinking about doing that after he finished school."

Chase leaned in, kissing Tyler—biting his lip. His voice was low and strikingly seductive, with an edge to it that excited Tyler (and yet totally keyed him in that Chase wasn't quite right). "I didn't ask what Reid planned to do after college. I asked about you." Tyler started to speak, but he was hushed by Chase's finger over his lips. "Don't make excuses. You could be someone, Tyler. Nothing is holding you back here—I don't care what bonds, what power you think is binding you here." The accuracy of that sentence gave Tyler chills, but Chase couldn't possibly have known anything. Could he? "You could do it. You're so much more than you think." Chase kissed Tyler, hard, tongue forcing its way into Tyler's mouth, exploring before pulling away, his teeth scraping Tyler's bottom lip hard enough to leave behind the ghost of the taste of blood. Chase pulled away, leaving Tyler leaning hard against those supply shelves. "Go to class, kiddo."

Of all the times Tyler had been called by children's names, that one probably stung the most.

Things went downhill from there. Tyler started to wake up at night, startled, his face flushing, scared and terribly aware that someone was using. It wasn't anyone from the covenant. He would have known. It didn't take Caleb pointing things out for him to understand, either. His new boyfriend was an enemy. That just figured. The days passed in an unsophisticated blur. Kate was injured, Pogue was in an 'accident' and Caleb found out (in person) exactly what Chase wanted. It wasn't good.

All of this together meant that the sex had to stop immediately. But Tyler was confused, slightly irritated, and jealous in the fashion that highlighted his immaturity. He understood that he shouldn't really want Chase to want his powers, but why hadn't he even tried to control Tyler?

Tyler was running late for the dance. Not that he was actually going to the dance with anyone important since his boyfriend was apparently a demented killer. Just his luck. He was, however, going to get the elite and exclusive job of playing babysitter to Sarah, Caleb's new girlfriend. The joy was absolutely indescribable.

Reid was downstairs waiting for him. He'd gotten impatient with Tyler's pace, but the truth was that Tyler couldn't seem to drive himself to move any faster. His stomach hurt. He was angry. He was probably a whole lot of other things, too, because it just didn't feel fair. He refused to be a baby and give in to some sort of a fit, but why did the only person who actually believed in him have to be batshit insane?

There was a pop of power, more sensation than reality and Tyler spun around on his heels, the hair on the back of his neck raising as a voice rang out, confirming his suspicions. "Well, well. Don't you clean up nicely."

"You shouldn't be here, Chase." His voice was firm and unafraid. Not because Tyler wasn't afraid (he was scared out of his mind), but because he refused to let Chase know that. The only person who believed in him was right here, in his bedroom, making him regret some of the happiest times of his life.

"I know that. You're probably not happy with me." If there were really an award given out for understating the obvious, Tyler was pretty sure this statement would have won for that year.

Tyler stepped out of the bathroom—where he'd been, for lack of a better word, primping his hair to make sure he looked decent. He pressed his back against the wall, watching Chase, who had appeared in between the two single beds that dominated the dorm room. "You tried to kill two of my friends. Am I supposed to be thrilled with you?"

Chase shook his head, sitting down on Reid's bed, which just figured. That was totally Chase. Tyler crossed his arms as Chase looked up at him. "In my defense, you were never that fond of Kate."

Which was true, but it was beside the point. "Did you really kill your parents?"

"My foster parents." Tyler walked closer, moving to sit on his own bed. It was too close, he knew, logically, that Chase was dangerous and insane, but he was also just Chase. "They had it coming." Tyler watched as Chase bit his lip, breathing in quickly. "I'm not going into detail about it with you, but they weren't good people. I don't regret what I did."

Tyler kind of understood that. A lot of the time, he wasn't really upset about his own father's death. He didn't talk about it a lot, it was something he didn't expect Caleb, with his paternal dedication, or the other two, who from Tyler's perspective at least had storybook perfect relationships with their fathers, to understand. It wasn't exactly hatred, but it wasn't exactly love.

Tyler could say that about a lot of his relationships, honestly. He shifted on the bed. He was running out of good excuses. "Did you really kiss Caleb?"

Chase rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. Sort of dementedly, but it was a smile. "Do you really care? Yes, I kissed him. On the cheek. It was totally worth it, he flipped."

Tyler felt miserable. Completely miserable. He was stuck. Either his friend or his boyfriend would die tonight. Possibly both. If Caleb died, he would be miserable, but if Caleb killed Chase he'd probably never forgive him. Not that he could explain that to Caleb. Chase was a lunatic. Caleb was doing the right thing. Tyler was just doomed. Something in his stomach twisted, a last ditch desperation that he would never be able to explain to himself later. His voice was low and grumbling, as if he was just about to cry (much to his own dismay). "I will you my pow—"

Magic hit him before Chase actually did, though from what Tyler could tell it wasn't on purpose. His eyes were glossed over black and his hand gripped over Tyler's mouth. He had him pinned on the bed, anger having gotten the best of Chase despite himself. "Don't you ever, ever say that to anyone, Tyler. You are worth more than that, don't throw your life away. I love you, and I don't love anyone."

Chase lifted his hand away, moving off of Tyler, who was still in kind of a daze. "You love—"

"Yes. Shut up." Tyler sat up, rearranging himself. Chase sat for a few minutes, scratching the base of the back of his neck. Nervous, almost. "I have to go get ready."

Tyler rubbed his face, nodding. "I have to get downstairs before Reid figures something's wrong." He took a deep breath in, his voice low and very soft. "If you kill Caleb, I'll never forgive you."

Chase winced, looking down at his hands, which had been freshly tucked into his lap. "I know." Chase stood and leaned over Tyler, kissing him. It was more gentle than Tyler had ever felt before. It felt like crying, but in the form of a kiss. "I love you, Tyler. Take care of yourself."

In a blink, Chase was gone.

Caleb had never thought that he'd killed Chase. It was something that he had explained meticulously to each of them, the fearless leader briefing his soldiers thoroughly. It left Pogue and Reid indescribably angry, but for Tyler it was a shot of hope, a fleeting ghost of a chance to get rid of the tumultuous feeling that dominated the pit of his stomach lately. This was why he should have known better. This was why he should never have gotten involved with someone he knew was dangerous.

He didn't feel better until about a week later, when a postcard arrived in his school mail. It showed a farmhouse in a field of snow, and had the words 'thinking of you' imprinted on the landscape in white. The postmark said Boston and there was no return address, but it was still the greatest thing Tyler had seen in a long time.

Dear Tyler,
I almost pulled a Voldemort and went to Albania to recover. I wonder what a postcard from Albania would look like—it sounds like a great place for exile, after all. I'll send you my address when things are more settled. I hope you're doing well.

Much love,
Chase