The night air felt cool against Spencer's face as he slipped out of his bedroom window. It was ridiculously easy for him to use the little toe holds that Remy had once shown him and climb almost silently up towards the roof. The two had done this plenty of times when they'd wanted to come up and watch the stars or just get away for a little while. Remy had a ridiculous thing about liking to be high up above everything. Roofs especially. He said it felt free up there. Spencer thought that maybe he was just part cat.
The dream that had woken Spencer was still thrumming inside of him. He was cursing himself as he cleared the gutter and moved up onto the roof. How could they have been so stupid? How had they not thought of this? The Raven was sending killers to take out Jean-Luc's heart. Spencer had seen that. He knew that. 'He wants to break him, destroy him, so he sent the darkness to take what matters most—his heart.' That was what he'd said to Mattie and Remy before, when he'd first sought out the vision that had clued them in to what was going on. That had been the vision that had sparked all the extra training and extra protection. But somewhere along the way, with the attacks that happened all being geared towards Remy, the family had forgotten one important part of that—Jean-Luc had more than one child. And Spencer had seen tonight in his dreams what would happen while most of the guards were watching over Remy. He'd seen the shadows as the darkness slipped in and the swallowed the cougar whole. When he woke, there'd been no time to think, no time to do anything but grab his weapons and go. He'd sworn to protect Remy with his life, but that didn't mean that that protection didn't extend to the others in his adoptive family.
The dark of the night offered plenty of shadows in which a body could hide. Spencer utilized them as he moved with all the stealth that Henri and Remy had taught him. Those shadows helped to hide him, and they would've helped to hide the one he hunted, too, but Spencer was looking with eyes that saw so much more. The thick blackness of the aura ahead of him was sickeningly familiar. He'd seen it earlier, when a man had aimed a crossbow at Remy and Spencer had been just seconds away from being too late. The man had gotten away because Spencer had hesitated to do what needed to be done. He wasn't going to make that mistake again.
He wasn't sure what he did but something alerted the man to his presence. Just as Spencer got close, his knives already in hand, the man's head snapped up. Dark blue eyes found his and Spencer shivered at the pure insanity that he saw there. This was a man who loved what he did; loved the blood and the death and the power. "You again." Pushing up, the man stepped out from where he'd been crouching, moving to the flat part of the roof. They were right over Henri's room, just before the patio roof. The man straightened up and met Spencer's gaze head on, smiling at him. "You just keep getting in my way."
There was no point in hiding now. Not now that he'd been seen. Spencer dropped down onto the same section of roof and then straightened up as well. "I'm not exactly sorry about that."
"You're not, are you?" The man's lips curved up into a chilling smile. He shifted his weight and Spencer recognized the movement, had seen Henri employ it when he was preparing to spar. That tiny little movement was enough to have Spencer bracing. The guy's grin grew. "It's a shame to have to do this, but I'm thinking maybe it's time I take care of you. With you out of the picture, we'll see how long your little friends survive then."
"I won't let you have them." Spencer swore. The words rang with an echo of his power.
"We'll see about that."
With no more warning the man launched forward with all the speed of a striking snake.
This was nothing like any of his sparring practice with the brothers, nor was it like any fight he'd been in before. All those other times he'd gone after someone who was coming after Remy, he'd gone with the intent to take them out, to keep Remy safe, and the one he fought had always sought to get away. That wasn't the case this time. This time, Spencer wasn't holding back and neither was his attacker. This was a fight that wouldn't stop until one of them was dead.
Spencer knew that there was no way he had the skill enough to beat this man on his own. He'd only been training for a few years and that training had been broken up by things like school. This man he fought had trained for much,, much longer. It was an art to him. Spencer could see that in every move he made. In a regular fight, he knew he'd be slaughtered in just a short time, even if he did manage to hold his own for just a little bit. But he had an advantage here that the other man didn't. For the very first time Spencer dropped every single shield he had over himself and he let his other senses open wider than he'd ever done. He didn't fight it as the power washed over him or as his eyes suddenly saw so much clearer and so much more different than he'd ever seen.
The man—Tyrone, his name was Tyrone—ducked down under Spencer's swing and came up on the other side with a blow aimed for Spencer's head that should've taken him down. Would've, if he hadn't ducked. He dropped down and twisted himself to the right, the glow of his eyes shining in the dark with the power that was coursing inside of him, the Sight that was gripping him. He easily deflected the next blow with a speed that shouldn't have been possible. He used Tyrone's aura and the energies around him to See his moves before he even started them. It was dangerous, to be open this wide, but he didn't care. He wouldn't let the man touch his family.
Spencer Saw what was coming and he twisted his body once more. It left him open, allowed for a blow to his ribs that almost stole his breath away, but it provided him with just the opening he needed. Even as he folded underneath Tyrone's blow, he was swinging in with his other arm.
The whole world seemed to still as the knife slid through flesh like it was cutting through butter. The two men froze just a breath apart. Spencer stared up into Tyrone's eyes as the light in them flared bright and then, like a flame being blown out, vanished, and the dark enveloped the soul inside. His knife had gone between the ribs and straight up into his heart with far more force than Spencer had thought himself capable of. He held there, staring for one moment at the body that was suddenly slumping against him, barely even feeling the weight against his arm. He had just killed a man. He'd killed a man. And he'd done it with a blow that really shouldn't have been possible. To get just the right spot, just the right angle, should've taken a miracle. Yet his hand had moved with barely any thought.
Spencer drew back almost numbly and watched the body drop down to the roof. That's all it was now—a body. There was no soul inside of there anymore. No life. What life had been there was gone now, because of him. Because of him and his blade.
He heard the sound of movement nearby but he didn't bother turning that way. His senses were still open enough that he knew who was coming without even having to look. Feeling the others come close, everything about them right out there for him to see, Spencer yanked his shields back into place with as much speed as he could, slamming them down over his mind.
Spencer was still on one knee, staring at the lifeless corpse in front of him, when Henri and Raymond both appeared on the roof. There were others on the way, Spencer knew. More guards. He didn't really care about it. His eyes couldn't seem to leave the dead man; a man he had killed. His knife was still in him and an absent part of Spencer's mind thought that maybe he should do something about that. He didn't move, though. He just stayed there, numb, as Henri came over to him, and as the man he thought of as a brother moved to block his sight. Even with Henri in the way, Spencer swore he could still see that body. He had a feeling he always would.
"Spencer." Henri crouched down in front of him and cupped Spencer's face in warm hands. "Mon frère, are y' all right? Are y' hurt?"
Blinking his eyes a few times, Spencer tried to clear out his vision, to bring his focus back. His tongue felt sort of thick in his mouth and there was this strange sense of disconnect that had come when he'd pulled his shields back down again. "I had to stop him." He looked up and finally managed to meet Henri's eyes. It seemed important to explain himself to him. More important than anything else. "Everyone thought he was going to try for Remy, but I saw it. I dreamed it. He was going to kill you. I had to stop him."
Something akin to anguish flashed over Henri's face. "Ah, petit."
"He wouldn't stop. I…I had to. I couldn't let him hurt y', Henri." At the end of it, Spencer's voice cracked a little and he slipped into that faint hint of an accent that he'd picked up. Years of living in New Orleans, with a family who all had an accent to varying degrees, and spending most of his time with the most heavily accented of them all, all of those had left Spencer with an extra accent on his own words. It didn't show up often; he worked to keep it out of there. But when he was tired, or stressed, or that memorable time that Remy had gotten him drunk, that was when it showed through. It showed now as the emotion started to crack through the numbness around Spencer.
He didn't hear it as Raymond murmured to Henri to, "Get him down and inside. He's in shock, Henri. I'll handle dis up here."
The hands left Spencer's face, arms coming around him instead and slowly helping him up to his feet, coaxing him into moving. He let himself be led across the bit of roof and then carefully down the part that would let him drop down onto the patio in Henri's room. Spencer stumbled when he landed, only to be caught up in Henri's embrace, steadying him and holding him. "It's okay. I got y', petit frère. Y'r okay. I got y'."
The words cracked through some of the numbness around Spencer. He leaned in to Henri's embrace and a small shudder ran down him. "I, I need…"
"What, Spencer?" One of Henri's hands came up to curl over the back of Spencer's neck much like Remy did. "What do y' need?"
There was only one answer that Spencer could think of to that. One thing that he found himself wanting more than anything. "M'room." The accent was still there on his words, just a little thicker than before. "I need m'room. Remy's…Remy's alone in dere. I need…he can't be alone…"
As Spencer's voice rose, panic starting to slip through, Henri's hand tightened on his neck. "Shh, Spencer. We'll get y' to y'r room. I promise y', we'll get y' in dere. We just gotta get y' outta dis shirt first, d'accord?"
It was then Spencer realized that the clothes he was wearing were soaked in the blood of the man he had just killed. The panic hit full force and Spencer was moving before his brain could even catch up with what his body was doing. All he knew was that he had to get these clothes off him. He had to get them off, now. He didn't even notice or care about Henri's hands on him anymore. All he cared about was getting out of his bloody clothes as quickly as possible. But even when they were gone, even when he stood only in his underwear, it wasn't enough. The blood was all over his hands, some of his arms, he could feel it there. It felt like it was burning through his skin.
If it hadn't been for Henri, Spencer might've gone just slightly crazy in that moment. Looking back, he knew that. His panic might've taken over and sent him into a dangerous spiral. But Henri was there and he took care of Spencer. He got him into the bathroom and he wet down a towel to wash Spencer's arms with cool water. Cool, not warm, because warm would've felt like more blood. The cool water felt, fresh. Cleansing. It washed away all traces of blood on Spencer's pale skin. Then, once he was clean, he helped to dry him and then dressed him in one of Henri's shirts, wrapped him in his robe, and helped Spencer back to his room.
There was only one moment of panic, when they were halfway there and Spencer was stumbling. Henri held him closer and murmured "Just a little further, Spencer. A little further and we'll get you to Remy."
The panic that Henri had been helping to keep at bay came roaring back at that. "No!" Spencer exclaimed, stopping right there in the hallway. "No, he can't!"
Henri furrowed his brow at him. "Can't what, Spencer?"
"He can't know." Spencer spit out. His eyes went wide as they locked on Henri's face. "Please, Remy can't know."
"Spencer…"
"No, please! Please, Henri. Y'know Remy—he'll try and take de blame for dis on himself. Please, Henri! He can't know!"
"Okay, okay." Rubbing his hand over Spencer's arm, the older man pulled him in once more and started up that soothing murmur. "It's fine. Remy won't know. I won't tell him an I'll make sure no one else does either. Y' just hush now, Spencer."
They may have agreed to not tell Remy, but that didn't mean that Remy wasn't going to find out anything. Remy was always a bit of a light sleeper and he stirred a little when they came in the room, but it was when Henri was coaxing Spencer into bed that Remy woke fully. The sound of his brother's voice drew him up out of sleep.
"Henri?" Remy's voice drifted across the room, rough with sleep, and in the faint light from the moon they could see the teen sit up in his bed and rub at his face. "What's going on?"
There was no chance for Spencer to even try to answer, though he doubted he would've been able to find the words. Henri took care of it for him. "Aint not'ing, Rem. Spencer's having a bad night, dat's all." Bad night must've been some kind of code between them because Remy nodded like this was the most normal thing in the world and then, instead of lying back down, actually climbed out of his bed and padded across the room. Spencer was already lying in bed and Henri was stretching out in front of him, something he hadn't expected. He also hadn't expected Remy to lift the blankets and slide into the bed at Spencer's back so that the youngest was bracketed between them. Spencer tried to turn, to look over at him, but Remy pushed up against his back like it was nothing and wrapped an arm around his waist. It was the perfect counterpoint to the steady warmth of Henri right in front of him. One of Henri's hands caught at Spencer's, lightly holding his wrist, and the other lifted to tuck some of his hair behind his ear. "Go to bed, Spencer." Henri said kindly. "We've got y'."
A tremor ran down Spencer's body. "I…I…"
"Shh." Remy murmured into his hair. He brought his hand up, flattening it over Spencer's heart, and pressed in just enough to bring them that much closer. "Henri's right, cher. We got y'."
Remy most likely thought that this was just a nightmare. It wouldn't be the first Spencer had had. Spencer was content to let him think that, too. He opened himself up just enough to let the warm colors of Remy's aura mesh with his. He let it surround him and wash way some of the pain that sat over him. Wrapped up in them, Spencer let go a little, let his body tremble with the aftershocks of what he'd just done. He drew in the warmth they offered and hoped it would chase away the chill he felt down inside his soul. Maybe with their presence, he might be able to chase away the images of the man's death, the feel of that blade in his hand, the blood on his skin.
He msut've made some kind of sound because Remy started to rub at his arm and hum a low, soothing tune while Henri pressed in closer and brushed hair back from his cheek, kindly ignoring the bit of moisture he found there. "It's gonna be okay, Spencer." He promised him softly. "Things will be better tomorrow, I promise."
There, wrapped up in them, Spencer drifted into a fitful sleep, wishing with all his heart that this would be over even as he knew it wasn't.
Little did Henri know how badly he would end up breaking that promise. No one had expected things to turn out the way they did. No one had thought that what was supposed to be a beautiful wedding would end this way.
Spencer had never felt as powerless as he did when he had to stand aside and watch while Belle's brother Julien shouted his objections to the wedding and challenged Remy to a duel. He had to stand there, held back by both Jean-Luc and Henri so that he couldn't interfere, and watch as Remy fought in a challenge that was to the death. Watch as one of the visions he'd had on that first night so long ago finally came true. The pieces of it came back to him as he watched it all unfold. The dagger, right into Julien's shoulder, glowing pink with the power Remy hadn't meant to put there. The curses, the screams, the sound of Belle's voice ringing out in the air.
The fight was fair, but recompense was demanded, and Spencer knew what it was before it was said. He knew as he stood tall and proud at Remy's side just what was going to be demanded of him; of them. He held his tongue as Remy was bandaged and Jean-Luc told them of their fate. "They don't want your life." The man told him. His eyes briefly went past Remy to where Spencer stood and their gaze met in a moment of silent understanding. Spencer gave a small nod, letting Jean-Luck know that he understood what was coming, and offering his silent promise that he would watch over Remy just as he'd sworn to do all those years ago. Jean-Luc nodded back before bringing his eyes once more to Remy. "It might have come to that, but y'r wife spoke for y' and suggested another way. Y'r penalty will be de lesser one—of exile."
It broke Spencer's heart to see the stricken look on Remy's face. The way he jerked back and stared at his father with something akin to horror. "Exile? From de city? From New Orleans?"
Spencer had to watch as Remy and Belle embraced in what he knew would be the last touch between them for a long, long time. He bowed his head and tried not to listen, his heart breaking with each word the two spoke as Belle begged to go with him and Remy firmly turned her down. He wasn't surprised when Remy spun without another word and walked back inside. Silent, Spencer moved to follow him, just as he'd always done. Belle caught his arm before he'd even made it two steps. Her eyes were bright and full of more emotion than he could ever remember seeing there. "Watch over him." She begged softly. "Please. Keep him safe, Spencer."
The young genius smiled sadly at her. "With my life."
Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving behind everything he had come to know, everything he'd come to love.
He said nothing as he trailed after Remy once they left the church. There wasn't even time for them to go to the house and gather up their things, though they'd been granted enough time to change back into regular clothes at the church. They were leaving only with what they had on them. Spencer was grateful for his powers in that moment. Though he hadn't realized until it was too late what was going to happen, there had to have been a part of him that remembered. He'd worn all his weapons when he came today. Everything that was important to him was on his person. They didn't need to worry about changes of clothes; those could be bought wherever they ended up.
A group of Assassins and Thieves both trailed them to make sure that they left the city. Neither Spencer nor Remy spoke to one another the whole trip. Spencer kept himself mostly hidden, even from Remy, watching the group around him to make sure that none of them tried to end Remy a bit more permanently.
It wasn't until they were on the boat taking them away from New Orleans that Spencer finally stepped back out of the shadows and up to Remy's side.
The Cajun was standing at the railing of the boat, watching as the city slowly faded into the distance. He didn't turn as Spencer moved to stand by his side. Though Spencer had kept back, Remy had known he was there. He always knew when Spencer was there. Without looking away from the lights of the city, he softly said "Y' shouldn't have come, cher."
"My place is with you." Spencer said simply. "Wherever that may be. Besides, in the eyes of the Guilds, I belong to you. You own me. I've studied the laws that surround that. Any punishment given to you extends to me as well." That included this banishment. Remy wasn't the only one that wouldn't be welcome back in New Orleans anymore.
His soft words had Remy closing his eyes. "Je suis désolé, mon ami."
"T'en fais pas." Don't worry, he told him. Spencer moved just a little closer until their arms were brushing against one another. "I'm where I want to be, Rem. I'm where I'm supposed to be."
Whatever lay ahead of them, they'd face it together, the way that they were supposed to. Spencer leaned his head in until he could rest it against Remy's shoulder. Silent, the two stood there and watched as the city lights slowly faded into the night.
There ends part one of all this. I'm making no promises on when part two comes out, but keep your eyes open for it!