Spy started to avoid Pyro and Engineer like the plague. Engineer knew where he was somehow, always. It was horribly disconcerting. It only took a few deaths to convince him to focus on the rest of the team, mainly Sniper.

He paused in the doorway to watch Sniper aim, trying to be sure he was focused in on his target. That was Spy's best advantage when it came to Sniper.

Knife in hand, he crept forwards towards the RED's unprotected back.

Sniper had had hardly any sleep that night, his night consumed with hunger and thirst and thoughts of the BLU Spy. The same scenes played over in his head again and again as his empty stomach twisted itself up in knots. Wrenching the Spy's head back and sinking teeth into his throat. Again and again and again.

Along with the hunger taking a day or so longer to really kick in than it had last time, Sniper's ability to sense where the Spy was had taken longer to return.

By the start of the match though, Sniper had been able to feel that little tug pulling him towards the Spy again. He'd set himself up in a convenient nest for the Spy to find him, and then waited and waited. Sniper was a hunter. He could be patient.

Finally the Spy appeared. Sniper kept his eyes fixed on his scope and waited and waited and-

Now!

With a snarl, Sniper swung around, and slammed the barrel of his rifle into the Spy's knife hand as hard as possible.

Spy had been so sure Sniper hadn't noticed him. When the taller man whirled and lashed out with the butt of his rifle, it cracked over Spy's knuckles. Something snapped and Spy fell to his knees, cradling his hand to his chest. His prosthetics were digging into his skin fiercely; they'd been broken around what remained of his fingers.

He'd been unable to drop the knife, his two smallest fingers were now effectively locked around it. He bit back a whimper. Hopefully Sniper would send him through respawn quickly so this could be fixed.

Sniper hadn't been expecting the Spy to fall to the ground. He only just managed to stop himself lunging for where the Spy had been a moment ago, which would have only led to his upper-legs connecting with Spy's face. Which would have hurt Spy more than him as long as nothing a little higher bashed into anything, but it would also have probably tripped Sniper up as well.

With a low growl at the thought of how embarrassing that would have been, Sniper grabbed hold of the Spy by his shoulders and threw him backwards onto the floor. He didn't care what he might have done to Spy a moment ago, all he cared about was the Spy was distracted.

Spy was thrown backwards, legs twisted uncomfortably back under himself with a cry of pain. His shoulders hit the floor and then his head cracked against the floorboards. He barely realized he still had his knife, he was so intent on keeping his hand from more harm.

"Sniper!" he cried out, struggling to roll, to right himself, unable to force himself to let go of his own hand. Surely he wasn't going to bite him?

Sniper pushed the Spy back down when he tried to roll over.

Fuck him. Fuck this guy. He had no right to target Sniper again and again and then as soon as the tables were turned, say his name like that. Like someone scared. Like someone betrayed. He had no right.

Hunger and rage and excitement and cruel satisfaction and uncertainty and guilt all mixed in together as Sniper fought to pin the Spy down.

The Spy deserved this, Sniper told himself. He deserved to feel afraid. Deserved to be in pain. Sniper was the hunter here. The Spy was nothing more than prey.

'I'm gonna rip your fucking throat out, you backstabbing little bastard!' he snarled in the Spy's ear.

Fuck, he was going to bite him. Not only that, but he was angry. He was pissed off… about Spy doing his job? They'd agreed to this. They couldn't afford their relationship to compromise their work. Spy didn't want to find out what happened if they betrayed RED or BLU.

Using his uninjured hand, Spy threw it up to put his elbow between himself and Sniper, trying to protect his neck.

"Sniper, this is my job, I am a Spy, I'm supposed to stab you in the back!" he babbled. "Just like you're supposed to shoot me in the head! Sniper, please!"

Sniper bared his fangs. He could practically taste the blood pumping so hard around the Spy's body. Practically hear it.

He wanted to bite. His stomach rumbled; another reminder of how hungry he was. How much he wanted this. How much he needed it.

But there was a tiny part of him, below the desperation, below the predatory urges, that was looking for an excuse not to.

Not because he didn't want to, but because the Spy didn't.

That skinny little bastard really was scared. Bastard.

'Twelve kills in one day though? That's not just doing your job, that's going out of your way to antagonise me! You don't just go yanking at a tiger's tail and expect you won't get bitten!'

"Do you want someone to see you bite me?" Spy tried another route. At least Sniper was talking. "Yes, I was targeting you. Engineer and Pyro have been impossible to approach so you were my next target! It just made sense for my team!"

The pain of his prosthetics was making it hard to talk and he had to drop his defensive elbow to try and pull them off without removing his glove. It was agonizing, he was sure he'd have blood blisters if he didn't respawn.

Why did the Spy have to talk so sensibly? Why did he have to be so reasonable about this?

If he'd been his usual mocking, sarcastic self, Sniper could have bitten him.

But not now. Not like this when he was squirming in pain while trying to explain himself.

Sniper let out a huff of annoyance against the Spy's neck. 'You had better come to my van tonight or we are going to have problems.'

Spy bristled at being threatened into something he'd already offered freely, but nodded, even though his expression was unimpressed. Sniper's breath rushed over his neck and Spy shuddered. He was still completely trapped under him.

"Either get off me or kill me," he said. Pulling at the prosthetics only seemed to make things worse and he didn't have the strength to force himself to free his trapped fingers anymore. He cradled his injured hand and waited for Sniper to make his move.

He should kill the Spy. Even the field a little bit. He'd never been keen on unprofessional kills though. He had no weapon within reaching distance. If he tried to kill the Spy right now, it would be with his bare hands. Nothing professional about that.

And if he was able to get to his knife or gun before the Spy escaped...there'd be blood.

Sniper went to pull himself away, only to glance down at the Spy's injured hand as he did.

Sniper froze.

The Spy was bleeding. Even with a glove hiding the injury, Sniper knew

Spy hissed in a breath as Sniper's eyes settled on his hand. He hated doing this, especially since he was in such a vulnerable position underneath Sniper, but he needed to act, he needed to get free.

He arched up enough to get some traction and headbutted Sniper in the face, aiming for the nose. If he could distract him enough to roll him off, Spy could slip out and run.

Pain snapped Sniper out of his daze. He let out a cry and reached up a hand to cup his nose. It didn't feel broken, but when he moved his hand away, there was blood. He'd closed his eyes from the pain but when they snapped open again, the pupils had shrunk to pinpricks. He draw back his lips and snarled at the Spy. There was something about the sound that was more animal than human.

Spy tried to get out from under Sniper but couldn't manage it. Sniper was bleeding onto him. Spy might not have broken his nose, but it must have hurt.

The expression on the vampire's face made the blood drain from Spy's face. There was something horribly inhuman about it, fangs bared, eyes predatory. This was going to hurt, but Spy had no better options. He twisted his injured hand up between them and forced the knife that was stuck under his prosthetic fingers into his enemy's gut. He was panting, teeth gritted as he pushed the knife as deep as he could, his fingers screaming at him with the added pressure.

Sniper made a shuddering, garbled little noise. His shoulders shook, arms trembling as he tried to fight off the fresh wave of pain. He blinked rapidly, mouth pulled into an 'o' of pain. His fangs were still visible but his pupils had returned to normal.

With a hoarse groan he pushed himself away from the Spy and collapsed onto his back on the floor next to him.

Sniper reached for the bloody knife handle, his hand clenching and unclenching next to it but not daring to touch it.

'Bastard bastard bastard bastard!' he chanted under his breath, anger bleeding into pain and desperation.

Spy stood up and bolted, still clutching his hand to his chest. He collapsed once he was outside and around the corner, chest heaving.

'Come back here, you fucker!' Sniper said. He'd been aiming to shout, but it hurt too much to try.

'Bastard,' Sniper muttered again, eyes screwed up tired, breathing shaky. 'Bastard.' Least the Spy could have done was finish him off. This was going to be a long, painful death. If there'd be any blood in his flask, Sniper could have been able to heal from this. But without it he was as good as human. As bad as human.

He smeared his hand through the blood welling up under the the wound. In desperation, he bit into his hand, tasting blood on his tongue. But it wasn't right. It wouldn't work. He couldn't bring himself to pull his teeth back out though.

This was going to take a long time. He'd take whatever comfort he could get.

Spy made his way to the dispenser to let himself heal, feeling very unsettled by his earlier encounter. Sniper hadn't seemed like a person this time, as he usually did. He'd looked… like an animal. Spy wasn't sure he wanted to see him tonight. Even with the threat he'd been given. Maybe especially because of the threat?

Sniper had let Spy get under his skin with the backstabs, that must have been it. And yes, that sort of death was annoying, but that was Spy's job.

The dispenser, unfortunately, could not unbend his prosthetics. Spy had to steal away into a warehouse and remove the glove to take them off, storing them in his jacket pocket before heading back to the dispenser. He was going to have to struggle until he went through respawn.

Taking another knife from the dispenser, Spy breathed out a huff of annoyance. This was the second knife he'd lost to Sniper.

Common sense slowly filtered through pain and shock. Sniper finally pulled his fangs free of his hand with a hiss of discomfort.

'Medic?' he called, his voice hoarse. He swallowed hard. 'Medic!' Sniper dragged himself back towards the window he'd been sniping out of. 'Medic!'

A couple of minutes later, Medic staggered up the stairs.

'Ah, Herr Sniper. A stab wound. Yes. Right, let's get you sorted out.' He was breathless and didn't seem to be be able to concentrate properly, but he could still heal. Typical mid-match Medic.

'Thanks, doc,' Sniper said as relief and medigun fumes swept over him. 'You're a lifesaver. Literally!' He made sure to move his mouth as little as possible though as his fangs hadn't retracted yet. Now was not the time to be caught out on the whole vampire thing.

That evening, Sniper sat on the edge of his freshly made bed and waited. And waited. He didn't dare leave his van just in case the Spy chose that moment to arrive. He didn't dare give up on the Spy and drive into town for the same reason.

Because the Spy would be here soon, wouldn't he? Sniper should have arranged a time.

He shouldn't have made it sound like a threat. He shouldn't have gone for the Spy (even if the Spy had deserved it.) He shouldn't have pinned him down and freaked him out like that. He shouldn't have done... whatever it was he'd done when he'd realised the Spy's hand was bleeding.

Sniper still hadn't got his head around that one himself. It had been weird. Worrying.

But the Spy had agreed to come back, hadn't he? And he knew Sniper needed him.

Sniper pushed idly at the handle of one of the daggers laid out on his counter. The Spy had to come back for these, right?

Spy paced outside his base, smoking cigarette after cigarette. His stomach was a knot. He'd been arguing back and forth with himself about his agreed meeting with Sniper.

Yes, Sniper had terrified him, and seemed intent on feeding on him without his permission. He'd threatened him. But he was starving. Could Spy understand that? He'd offered to feed Sniper, he didn't need to be threatened for it. He was afraid the man might still be holding a grudge, especially after Spy had stabbed him and left him to bleed out.

He could have finished him off afterwards, but truthfully Spy hadn't even thought about it until after he'd gotten to the dispenser. But if he didn't do this, would Sniper get worse? Would he start targeting Spy?

There was no way to know for sure, but Spy certainly felt less like spending a comfortable night in the arms of the RED Sniper.

"Merde," he sighed, dropping his cigarette and stubbing it out. He'd thought he'd made some sort of ally there, but apparently he hadn't. Spy headed back inside to his room. Sniper could try again in a less horrifying way and maybe Spy could see his way to going back to his camper.

The evening drew on. Sniper's hope waned. He kept going over and over what he was going to say when—if, the Spy appeared. He wasn't sure if he could bring himself to apologise, not after all that targeting but he'd certainly seek to appease things between them. If he got the chance.

Sniper spun one of the balisongs around his hand. The Spy wasn't the only one who could do fancy knife tricks. Sniper was too hungry and tired to concentrate properly though and kept dropping the knife.

He didn't dare go to bed though. What if the Spy came by and he was sleeping? He'd barely got any sleep at all last night, but it looked as though it was going to be even worse tonight.

And if today had been bad, tomorrow was going to be a thousand times worse.

Sniper set the knife down with a clatter and curled up in a tight ball on his side, trying to find a way to squash the pain in his stomach. He was starving and tired and utterly miserable. And he had no one to blame but himself.

Spy had terrible nightmares that night. He was starving, something ominous was following him and there was blood on his hands.

He woke early and couldn't get back to sleep. He wasn't sure if he ought to avoid or approach Sniper.