Skittery awoke with a jolt and a fright. He was in a confined space, and he hated confined spaces. He couldn't see anything, he could barely move and he was pretty sure he was in a box. Panicked, he shoved at the lid blocking him, easily opening it, and in a flash he jumped out. Disoriented, he looked around the strange room, before finally realizing where he was as the events of the past few days came flooding back to him. He laughed at himself, albeit nervously, and remembered he'd done the same thing the night before. If he was destined for a thousand lifetimes of waking up in horror, he really didn't want to continue down this lonely road. And he really, really hated confined spaces.

It probably had something to do with being locked in a small chest with his terrified cousin when they were little. He had been only five so Spot couldn't have been more than three. They'd been playing innocently, Spot having been left in the care of Skittery while their moms went out to sell themselves to try and make a buck. Then Skittery's dad had shown up and needed the place to his self for "entertainment." He'd said he couldn't have two kids wandering around, and he shoved them in the trunk and locked it. And forgotten about them. It was almost a day later when someone finally let them out. That was pretty much Skittery's first memory, and sadly it was probably his happiest one, too.

Skittery shuddered slightly, shoving memories of a time and place long since forgotten out of his head. He threw a look towards Eric's coffin, noted with satisfaction that the older one hadn't risen yet, and took off down the hall, pounding an impatient fist on his bedroom door. "Spot, it's me! Open up!"

"Ya ain't hungry, are ya?" He heard the teasing reply come from inside and growled in response threatening to break the door down. "Keep yer britches on, I'm comin'."

The door swung open to reveal a disheveled Spot in the middle of getting dressed. His brown corduroys were unbuttoned and his red suspenders hung from them. He had his grey cap in his mouth as he tried to button up the dark blue shirt hanging open on his chest.

"I hate small spaces," Skittery greeted him, swiping his cigarettes off the table where he'd left them earlier that morning and lighting one up.

"Yeah, I ain't a fan of 'em meself," Spot agreed, successfully buttoning his shirt and pants and snapping his suspenders into place. "I gotta get back ta Brooklyn soon 'nough 'ere so da boys ain't t'inkin' I ditched 'em."

"Ya's just uneasy bein' away from Brooklyn dis long," Skittery grinned at his cousin, tossing him an unlit cigarette.

Spot returned his smile, not bothering to deny the truth of the statement. "Wanna walk back dere widdme?"

"Yeah, okay." Skittery grabbed his boots from the corner, yanking them on his feet and lacing them up, and having all that done before Spot even managed to pull a match from his breast pocket. Spot shook his head in amusement at the satisfied smirk on his cousin's face as they headed for the door.

Skittery was in the midst of locking the door behind them when Eric came strolling down the hall. "Going somewhere, boys?"

"I ain't seein' how dat's any a ya business," Skittery grumbled. He'd never been much of a morning person, and apparently he wasn't a night person either.

"Are you capable of speaking in a manner that is not rude or sarcastic?" Eric asked, exasperated. It was entirely too early in the evening to deal with the attitude of the newborn in Eric's opinion.

Spot answered for Skittery with a curt, "No," as they started to leave the building, intent on ignoring Eric completely.

Before either boy could react, Eric had Spot slammed up against the wall. "Watch your mouth, kid," He hissed angrily, a couple days worth of frustrations coming to a boil.

Spot, being smart enough to know better than to try and fight a vampire, but hot headed enough to give it a go anyway, raised his cane, smacking Eric upside the head. Eric let him go with a roar, quickly grabbing him back and pinning him to the floor.

"Hey! Get off a 'im!" Skittery attempted to help his cousin, but the older vampire knocked him aside without much more than a flick of his wrist. Skittery was back on his feet as soon as he hit the wall behind him, and he tried to pry Eric off of Spot.

"It would do both of you good to remember who's in charge around here," Eric stated calmly, despite their current situation. With one last shove of his fist in the boys throat, Eric let him go, jumping to his feet, and brushing his self off casually. "Now, I will ask again. Where are you going?"

"Oh for Christ sakes, Eric. Give the boy some room. If he wants to leave let him leave," Pam joined the conversation as she sauntered out of her bedroom, fluffing up her hair. "If he knows what's good for him, he'll come back," The last sentence was said with a pointed look at Skittery, who scowled back at her, reaching a hand down and yanking Spot up.

"Let's go," He muttered through clenched teeth. "Bye Mom, bye Dad," He sneered, shoving open the door as Spot snickered behind him.

Spot led the way back to Brooklyn, keeping up a steady stream of conversation and pretending not to notice his cousins resounding silence. As they crossed the bridge, Spot realized Skittery was no longer following him, so he backtracked to where his cousin was leaning over the railing staring into the water. "Long way down," He commented.

"Yeah," Skittery's thoughtful frown slowly turned into a smile Spot knew well. It was the 'I'm about to do something stupid and dangerous' smile.

Before Spot could stop him, Skittery heaved himself over the rail, jumping into the ice cold waves below. "Moron!" Spot shouted after him, once he remembered it wouldn't kill him. Or kill him any more at least.

Before Spot could blink, Skittery was standing right back next to him like nothing had happened. His wet shirt clung to him, as he flashed a grin. "Guess dere's some perks ta bein' dead."

Spot glared at him for a minute, contemplating. "If ya plan on comin' in da lodgin' house ta tell da others hi, ya's better act fuckin' normal," He grumbled, spinning around and stomping off.

"Lighten up," Skittery called after him, before jumping one more time, only to be right next to Spot a second later.

Spot pointed his cane at him threateningly, giving him a fierce look, "I mean it, Skitts. Don't stand dere in dat creepy unmovin', unblinkin', unbreathin' way. Pretend ta be fuckin' human. I's don't wanna be explainin' ta a lodgin' house full a sissies dat me cousin's a fuckin' vampire, got it?"

Skittery, who's mood had lightened considerably since leaving the office, or jail cell as he'd come to think of it, gave a mock salute to Spot. "Sir, yes sir!"

"All right, knock it off smart ass," Spot bit back a grin of his own, as he shoved open the door to the lodging house.

"Hey, Spot ain't dead!" Came the greeting from an older newsie, as he rose from Spot's seat before he got yelled at. "Skittery!" The gangly boy clapped a hand on Skittery's shoulder in greeting. "Finally comin' home?"

"Heya, Hound," Skittery replied, shrugging the hand off his back. "Nah, jus' t'ought I'd stop by an' see all ya ugly faces."

"So where ya been hidin'? Boys over in 'Hattan say dey ain't seen hide nor hair a ya in a few days." Hound's name fit him perfectly. He could sniff out a story a mile away, and he tended not to let things go until he was satisfied he had the whole truth. Fortunately, he wasn't quite as good at sniffing out a lie.

Skittery ignored the question, and had the uncontrollable urge to swat Hound away like a fly, even though they normally got along well. He didn't stop to ponder as to why he suddenly found an issue with Hound though, and he let his eyes roam the common room. He saw a lot of his old, not friends exactly, but acquaintances, taking up residence in different chairs, or on the floor, or just milling about.

There was Beat, sitting at the table playing cards, leaning his chair back on two legs, and banging out a tune on the edge of the table. Trick, sitting next to him, who was about to push Beat's chair over, and Solemn sitting across from them, hollering at them to quit it and play their hands already.

Skittery walked over and lounged in Spots chair, smirking at him and daring him to say anything. Spot kept his mouth shut for once, since originally it had been Skittery's seat when he'd lived there, and led the Brooklyn newsies. He did however, smack his cousin upside the head as he walked by, shooing a younger newsie off the couch so he could sit.

"Move it Laces. An' tie ya damn boots," He nudged Laces off the couch with his cane, and took a seat, propping his cane in between his legs and resting his hands on the top.

"So why didn't ya sell taday, Spot?" Asked Pretty Boy, the second in command, as he sat next to Spot, crossing one leg over the other, and leaning back into the couch, causing the other young newsie, Crane to jump up before he got sat on.

Pretty Boy's nickname derived from the fact that he tended to put more time into his appearance in the mirror each morning than most broads the boys knew. He actually got up almost an hour earlier than everyone else just to get ready, and he used more hair supplies than Racetrack Higgins over in Manhattan. That was saying a lot, too. Most people made the mistake of letting Pretty Boy's nickname and immaculate appearance fool them into thinking he was no one to worry about. But Skittery, Spot, and any other newsie who had come through the Brooklyn lodging house, knew better.

Pretty Boy was biding his time, looking for a way to take leadership away from Spot, just as he'd unsuccessfully attempted many times with Skittery. Pretty Boy was all brawn and no brain, though, unfortunately for him. But Spot still knew to watch his back. You kept your friends close, and your enemies closer, that was Spot's motto.

Skittery sat across the room, glaring at Pretty Boy. He'd never been a fan of the guy, and even though they had acted as friends when he'd been in Brooklyn, they'd certainly gotten into more than their fair share of scuffles. Pretty Boy despised Skittery right back, mainly because he'd never been able to win a fight against him, and had never succeeded in taking over leadership. And to add insult to injury, when Skittery had ditched the Brooklyn boys, he'd left Spot in charge, which irritated him to no end. He was older than Spot, only by a year, but still. In his mind he should have ranked over Spot, and he was convinced the only reason Spot was in charge now was because he and Skittery were family.

Skittery knew perfectly well what Pretty Boy thought about that too. He could have appeased him by telling him the real reason was because Spot was leader material, and Pretty Boy was nothing more than a side kick, but that might have just started another fight instead of appeasing him.

Skittery continued to study Pretty Boy silently, taking in his large frame and perfectly styled hair. He had to almost physically restrain himself from leaping across the room and taking him out. For some reason, tonight, that particular newsie was really irking Skittery. And it didn't help the way he'd treated Crane. Skittery got very irritated whenever anyone treated a younger kid like dirt. If someone wanted to start shit with someone their own age, he could care less, but Crane was only 10, and he was little even for that age. Hence the name, he was always craning his neck, trying to see what was going on.

Skittery was pulled from his thoughts as something ht his leg. He shot a look at Spot who was shoving his slingshot back in his pocket and giving him a meaningful glance. Skittery took the hint, and shifted in his seat, jiggling his leg, trying not to fall into the trance vampire's tended to fall into when they weren't doing anything.

"So do either a you's plan on answerin' us as ta where ya been?" Hound couldn't let things drop.

"Ya ain't me mudder, so I's don't really see how dat's any a you's concern," Spot snapped at him, effectively ending that conversation. Everyone knew better than to push a subject if either one of the cousins said the case was closed.

Spot didn't notice since he was lighting a cigarette, but Skittery who found he could concentrate on a million things at once these days saw the look that passed between Pretty Boy and Hound. Skittery had a decent idea now why he had gotten an uneasy feeling about Hound, and he stood up, making an effort to do so at a human speed.

"Hey Spot, wanna show me ya broken bed in da room so I's can see if I's can fix it?" Skittery drilled his eyes into Spot, willing him to go along with the suggestion.

Spot agreed readily, and Skittery realized for the first time that he could actually compel people. He chuckled to himself as the climbed the stairs, knowing Spot would kill him if he knew he'd been compelled.

Skittery shut the door to Spots room behind them and sat down on the bed, lighting up a cigarette. "Ya might wanna keep an eye on Hound an' Pretty Boy," He advised Spot.

Spot glanced towards the closed door, and joined Skittery on the bed. "Whaddya mean?"

"I mean dey's plannin' soin' tagether, I'd bet me afterlife on it."

Spot ignored Skittery's quip, and stood up, heading for the door.

"Don't go confrontin' 'em now, Spot. Wait 'til ya have solid proof. But if I were you I'd start buildin' up allies wid da other newsies real quick. Most of 'em are scared a ya, but dat don't mean dey's loyal ta ya."

"How are ya so sure 'bout dem? Hound ain't never caused problems before. He's one a da few I genuinely like," Spot suddenly questioned him.

"Jus' trust me, I can tell." Skittery saw Spot break eye contact the second he said trust. "What? Ya don't trust me now?" Skittery was standing too, now, towering over Spot with fire burning in his eyes.

"I didn't say dat. It's jus', well, how do I know dis ain't changed ya? How do I know you's da same person, anymore? Hell ya ain't human no more, cuz." Spot didn't back down, and got right back in Skittery's face.

Skittery stared at Spot, trying to determine if he was serious. Finally he turned, grabbing the leg of Spot's bed, and ripping it off. "Well would ya look at dat. Da bed really is broke." He shoved the leg in Spots hands, shaking with rage. "Dis is me, Spot. Dis is who I am now, an' if ya can't handle dat, dan dat's jus' fine. I don't need you's. I never did." Skittery slammed out of the room, ignoring the calls of the Brooklyn newsies behind him as he stormed out of the lodging house and out into the night.


"Sonuva bitch!" Spot swore, holding the broken leg to his bed in his hand. He whipped the leg across the room where it hit the wall and fell to the floor with a clatter, sending splinters flying everywhere.

He marched out of his room and back down the stairs, where the other boys were all staring at the door, wondering what had happened in Spot's bedroom. They'd seen Spot and Skittery get into knock down drag out fights physically, but they'd never seen them actually angry with each other.

Everyone was smart enough not to comment though, as Trick, Beat, and Solemn quickly went back to their card game, Laces and Crane acted very interested in their marble game on the ground, Hound jumped up asking if anyone wanted a beer, and Pretty Boy sat on the couch smirking. Everyone else avoided Spot at all costs, as he sank into his seat, shooting daggers with his eyes at anyone who dared to glance at him.

He ripped the beer out of Hound's hands without so much as a thank you, before he swallowed the whole thing in a gulp, and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Laces! Crane! Get up ta bed. " He commanded, with no room in his voice for argument. The two jumped up, and scurried up the stairs, and everyone turned to Spot expectantly. The only time Spot ever bothered to send the younger ones to bed was when he had something to discuss with the older ones. "You's too, Fish an' Noise!" He barked at the two in between aged newsies. This caused everyone to really sit up and pay attention. The cards were put away, and those who were across the room made their way over to take up residence in a semi circle near Spot. Spot rarely bothered to send away the ones who were just barely younger than them, so he had everyone's curiosity piqued.

Spot didn't speak right away, he decided to let everyone stew for a few minutes as he ambled into the kitchen to grab another beer. He sat back in his seat, and leaned forward, an ominous look on his face. The power he held in the lodging house was radiating off of him, as he opened up his mouth, ready to set things straight.

"I'm only gonna say dis once, so I 'spect you's all ta listen closely an' take heed. It's come ta my attention dat some of you's," he glared at Hound and Pretty Boy as he said this, leaving no doubt in anyone's mind who he meant. "T'ink ya can overthrow me an' take over dis lodgin' house. I's jus' want ta remind everyone dat me bad side is not somewhere ya wanna be. So whatever plans anyone is cookin' up I suggest ya forget about 'em immediately, or ya walk out dat door an' don't even t'ink about comin' back 'ere."

Spot shoved out of his chair and stalked over so he was standing directly over Hound and Pretty Boy. "Don't ya dare fuck widdme. An don't forget, I not only 'ave pull 'ere in Brooklyn, but I got pull in every other damned borough, an' I can promise both of you's I will make ya lives a livin' hell if ya so much as cough in me direction. Don't make me call in for reinforcements ta keep da two a ya in line," He spat at them, turning on his heel.

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, and turned back around. "Beat, Solemn, Trick, an' Rum, meet me in me room." He banged up the stairs, glaring at his broken bed and cursing Skittery again.

Pretty Boy and Hound exchanged an uneasy look at having been called out in the open like that, while everyone else scooted away from them, not wanting Spot to think they were in on it. The four boys Spot had told to come to his room stood up, and silently filed up the steps, walking into Spot's room.

Spot looked at the four of them, working out the best way to approach the topic in his head. Beat stood there, nervously tapping out a rhythm on the dresser, Trick was too scared to plan a practical joke for once, Solemn stood with his back straight, examining his dirty fingernails, completely at ease, and Rum pulled a flask from his pocket, taking a long swallow, and holding the flask out to Spot.

Spot gave a grunt of thanks, taking it from him and tipping it back into his mouth.

"All right guys, 'ere's da deal. I'm gonna ask ya a question an' I want an honest answer. Dere ain't no repercussions if ya don't gimme da answer I wanna hear, but deir will be severe consequences if I find out any a ya lied to me." He waited while all the boys nodded an understanding before he continued. "If it comes down ta it, do da four a ya have me back or not? Who's side would ya choose?"

Solemn was the first to speak up, barely having to consider the question. He didn't care much for politics, and he and Spot weren't necessarily friends, but he liked Spot a hell of a lot more than Pretty Boy or Hound. Spot hadn't steered them wrong yet, and he had twice the brains of both the other two put together. "I'm on you's side, without a doubt." He looked Spot directly in the eye as he said this, leaving no doubt in Spot's mind that it was the truth.

"Yours, definitely" Rum put in his two cents easily, as well. He and Spot got along and it was no secret that he and Pretty Boy rarely saw eye to eye.

Spot nodded at them, and turned to the other two. He'd brought these four up because he was pretty sure they were the ones he could count on, and he was hoping he wasn't wrong. "Beat, Trick?"

They exchanged a look, and then both turned back to look at Spot, nodding in agreement. "Yours," they chorused.

"All right den. I'm holdin' all a you's ta dat," Spot reminded them, as they exited his room, taking the hint that the conversation was over.

Spot scooped up the leg to his bed and went over to take a look at, refusing to think about the fact that he might have just broken ties with the only family he liked and the only real friend he had. Instead he made a mental note to send for Jack, Race, and some of the others from Manhattan to make sure they had his back and ran through a list of newsies in the other areas that he could count on.


Skittery spotted a girl walking towards him as he arrived back in Manhattan, and he drank in the sight of her, suddenly having an unquenchable thirst. He could tell, even from down the street, that he had a good few inches on her. Her raven hair hung past her shoulders, and as he got closer he could see bright green eyes catching the light. Skittery made a quick decision, and put an unlit cigarette in his mouth.

He stopped in front of her, tipping his hat. "'Scuse me, miss. D'ya happen ta have a match on ya?"

She smiled up at him, as he inhaled the scent coming off her and tried to avoid licking his lips. "Sure," She returned his smile, as she struck a match and held it out to him.

Bending down, Skittery cupped the flame, touching the tip of his cigarette to it and thinking that this was going to be entirely too easy. "So what's a pretty lady like you's doin' out on da streets so late by yaself?" Skittery asked, leaning against the wall, and sucking on the cigarette.

She gave him a coy smile, but didn't respond, as Skittery threw the half smoked cigarette to the ground, stubbing it out with the toe of his boot. "Why don'tcha let me walk ya home?"

"Okay," She giggled, taking the arm he held out.

Skittery smirked to himself, waiting for the opportune moment to present itself, which it did a few minutes later, as they arrived at her door.

"My roommates are out, if you'd like to come in," She purred, batting her eyelashes.

Skittery raised an eyebrow suggestively, as he followed her into the building and into her apartment. She wasted no time, leading him back towards her bedroom, and Skittery grinned, knowing he hadn't even had to compel her to get this far.

He turned around, shutting the door to her room, and backed her up against the wall, smashing his lips against hers hungrily. He shoved a knee between her legs, as he let his fingers work on the top buttons of her blouse, quickly stripping it from her.

She hadn't protested yet, though Skittery doubted that would have stopped him, as he picked her up, and all but threw her on the bed. Shrugging his suspenders off, he joined her on the bed, covering her mouth with his once again, as he became more forceful in his efforts when he sensed resistance coming.

She broke the kiss, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. "It's getting late," She hinted.

"It's still early," Skittery growled back, ripping her skirt down, and ridding himself of his clothes. He raised himself on top of her, and stared into her eyes, willing her to say yes.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," She gave in, as Skittery thrust himself into her. He moved inside of her fiercely, laughing at the look of horror on her face. "Quit strugglin', it's useless," He whispered hoarsely, as she came out of the trance he'd put her in.

Letting out a guttural moan, he felt his fangs extending, and bit into her neck as he reached his peak, ignoring her screams, and sucking until the body underneath him was no longer moving.

Skittery pulled out of her, and stood up, throwing his clothes on. "T'anks, dat was fun," he gave a cruel smile towards the lifeless body, and threw open the window, jumping to the street below.


Eric ignored the feeling in the pit of his stomach that something was wrong with Skittery, muttering that the boy could take care of himself, seeing as he had bigger problems to worry about right now. He let himself in Pam's office, throwing a letter on her desk.

"We have company coming," He said through clenched teeth. They could not have picked a worse time. Eric had one, possibly soon to be two, new vampires running loose, and now he had to deal with a whole damn group of vampires setting up camp in his office. He could have said no, but seeing as how Godric was one of the ones coming, he found himself unable to deny his maker's request.

Pam made a face as she read the letter. "Well at least Godric is coming, that always makes you slightly more bearable."

Eric rolled his eyes at her. "Yes but that insufferable man Bill Compton is coming, too. He puts me in a bad mood. He seems to think he's human." Eric sniffed; distaste settling in his mouth at the thought of Bill.

Pam scanned the list of familiar names as to who all was coming, before she noticed Eric shifting in front of her. "What is with you?"

"Something's wrong with that boy," Eric admitted.

"Then go find him," Pam stated the obvious, studying Eric for his reaction.

Eric didn't answer her, but he did leave the building, following his sense until he came to a halt in front of Skittery, who was sitting on the steps a few buildings down.

He took in the look on his face and braced himself. "What have you done?"

"Noin'," Skittery muttered, refusing to meet his stare.

"Did you leave mess when you did this nothing that I need to clean up," Eric fought to keep the anger out of his voice, not in the mood to fight with the boy right now.

Skittery finally raised his head, and he smirked at Eric. "Yup."

Eric swore, and started to say something, but Skittery stood up, glaring at him and cutting him off.

"Don'tcha dare try to yell at me. You's turned me inta some damned creature a da night, and it didn't come wid no instructions!" Eric could tell that Skittery's heart wasn't in it though, so he didn't bother to yell back.

"Something is bothering you," Eric stated, waiting on an answer.

Skittery continued to glare at him, before he turned his back to Eric, unable to bring himself to say the words. Eric placed his hand on Skittery's shoulder, silently wishing the boy to open up, not realizing his mistake.

Skittery spun around the second Eric touched him, shoving him against the wall. "Don't touch me! Look what ya did ta me da last time ya touched me! I thought me life was terrible before, an' now I know how wrong I was! Dis is hell! I hate it! Me best friend don't wanna be near me, an' dere's a chance I mighta jus' raped someone! Dis isn't me!"

"It's who you are now," Eric responded quietly.

"No! It's who you's made me! I's a fuckin' monster now! I don't want this!" His voice broke on the last sentence, as he sank down, leaning unsteadily against the wall behind him.

"Give me directions so I can clean it up, and then go home, my child," Eric said softly, attempting to placate the boy in front of him who looked drained from the night.

Skittery looked up at Eric, finding his anger gone. He just felt empty at that moment, as he rambled off an address to Eric, and took off for the office, once again disgusted with his self.

AN – Okay first off, I must thank Thrufirewithoutaburn, who is my most awesome FF friend, and gave me the name ideas for Pretty Boy, Laces, and Crane. Secondly, I must thank DramaLo for her amazing support of this fic, and for making me laugh with every comment on Twitter.

I also would like to recommend to my readers a wonderful little story I discovered by Dimensional Traveller called Destiny's Cross. It's wonderful, and any Newsie lovers should take a look at it!

I have made a video for this story, also, and if anyone would like to see it, the link is on my page, as well as the link to a ridiculous Newsies slash video I felt compelled to make. My FF blog link is located there as well, as is my Twitter. Feel free to come follow me, you will get plenty of story updates and spoilers, and can help me out when I'm in bind, like Thrufirewithoutaburn and DramaLo are so amazing at doing!

Okay, that's all. I think I just followed my longest chapter ever with the longest AN ever, too. Please, please, please, I implore y'all to review! I know you're reading the story, let me know what you think of it! =D