...So maybe I lied when I said this would be under thirty chapters, haha. I really hope it won't be much more than that, though or I'll still be writing it this Halloween.

Thank you to: hikikomori-kuma, Tamitan, NihonBara, whynot187, Great build-up (I suspect that isn't your screen-name, haha), Mythomagic101, suzako, love oliver, pinkdoughnuts, OliviaSkyBlue and two Guests!

The Waning

XXV

"Here." Alfred tossed the paper package onto the kitchen table. "I got you this in the town."

Matthew, who – in Alfred's absence – had taken over the kitchen to make pancakes, glanced over his shoulder.

"You got me what?"

"This."

"What's this?"

"It's for your ribs." Alfred poured him a glass of water and shook the powder in. It frothed and fizzed for a moment, turning the water amber. "It'll fix 'em right up."

Matthew flipped his pancakes. "Are you sure?" he asked doubtfully.

"Sure am. Yao knows what he's doing. He certainly charges enough for the damn privilege..." Alfred slid the glass across the table. "Now come on, drink up."

Matthew upended the pancakes onto a plate already piled high, coming to the table. He picked up the glass, glancing at Alfred over it.

"If I die, I'm gonna haunt you," he said. "So hard. Seriously. Even when you're in the bathroom."

"You're not gonna die." Alfred rolled his eyes as Matthew drank. "I gave Arthur something from Yao and he was fine."

Matthew choked. "H-he's a vampire!" he spluttered, slamming the empty glass down. "He's already dead!"

"Oh yeah." Alfred shrugged. "Well, too late now."

"Al, I swear to god..." Matthew gasped suddenly, clutching at his ribs. He trembled, his head bowed. "Oh, fuck..."

"Mattie...?" Alfred reached for him, suddenly uneasy. He probably should have asked Yao if the powder was suitable for mortals-

Matthew bolted upright again, his eyes wide. He let out a breath, feeling frantically at his ribs. "H-hey..."

"...What?" Alfred barely dared to ask.

"It... it worked." Matthew unbuttoned his shirt, tearing away the bandages. Beneath his skin was in perfect order, without the faintest trace of bruising. "It actually worked."

"Well, yeah, of course it did." Alfred folded his arms. "Give me some credit, bro."

"Oh, shut up." Matthew punched him on the arm. "You had no damn idea."

"So I got lucky. You're welcome."

"Suck my dick, Alfred." Matthew grinned, buttoning his shirt again. "C'mon, let's have some pancakes."

"Sounds good. I'll make some coffee."

He decided not to mention that he had asked Yao about human immortality. There didn't seem to be much point, not when he had come up empty-handed, and besides... he didn't know how Matthew would take it, even hypothetically. He might be upset by the suggestion, offended, even angry. Alfred himself, of course, had desperately craved immortality so he could be with Arthur – but Arthur in turn, being so much older, clearly considered it some kind of curse. Where did someone like Matthew fit, then? Alfred had absolutely no idea and could think of no way of broaching it. The idea of Matthew ageing and leaving him behind; the thought of losing Arthur forever and living for eternity without him... he just couldn't bring himself to even contemplate it.

The pancakes – always Matthew's speciality – were fantastic, of course. Alfred hadn't realised just how hungry he was, wolfing them almost as quickly as Matthew could put them on his plate.

"Jeez, slow down! There's plenty more!"

"Sorry." Alfred swallowed. "It's just... been so long since I've had your pancakes."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess it has, huh?" Matthew smiled faintly, his lilac eyes sliding to the two boxes on the sideboard. "Where'd you get all the cakes and pastries?"

"Belle's. It's a little bakery in town run by a witch. Her stuff is incredible."

"Why'd you buy so much?"

"I didn't. She gave it all to me. She shut up early and it's no good the next day."

"Oh." Matthew looked towards the window – the wind was tearing past, leaves wildly skittering. "Yeah, it looks pretty foul out there."

"Mm." Alfred sucked a bit of syrup off his finger. "I, uh... I think maybe Arthur has something to do with it."

Matthew blinked. "Arthur? How... how could he-?"

"I don't know, just call it a hunch. Or a bad feeling."

Matthew frowned at the window again. "So he can cause storms now?"

"I really have no idea," Alfred said. "I can't get anywhere near him until midnight."

"So we can't do anything until then?"

"...No." A pause. "Matthew, I've been thinking..."

"Dangerous."

"I'm serious." Alfred looked at his twin. "I don't want you to come with me tonight. Arthur, he's... he's too dangerous-"

"I know – that's why I need to come with you, so I can save your stupid ass."

"No." Alfred shook his head. "I appreciate the sentiment but I can't allow it. You're still human, a mortal, he could tear you to pieces."

"He could do the same to you!"

"It doesn't matter. I'm already dead."

"So was Caesar. Didn't stop Arthur from ripping out his heart and eating it, eh?"

"Matthew, please," Alfred pleaded. "I really appreciate you wanting to come with me but I can't let you. I'd never forgive myself if he killed you."

"Oh? You mean the way he killed you?"

Alfred exhaled. "Yeah," he said. "Exactly. He did kill me. Easily, in fact."

Matthew kneaded at his forehead. "I know it'll be dangerous," he said in a low voice, "but I can't just let you go back there alone–"

"You have to. I... I'm pretty sure I'm the only person who can stop him. Besides, he's my husband. If I don't deal with him then who will?"

"Me – his brother-in-law."

"Matt, four of you came to that ball last night. You're the only survivor."

"That was Caesar's doing," Matthew said coldly. "He let Søren and Ivan die – he even admitted to using Ivan as a distraction, remember?" He shook his head. "I didn't like Ivan much but he didn't deserve that."

"No," Alfred agreed. "He didn't. Caesar was more of a monster than anything this side of the gate." He frowned. "But that doesn't mean we can take Arthur lightly."

"I'm not. I think you're the one not taking him seriously, Alfred. You can't face him by yourself, it's suicide."

"I'm already dead."

"So was Caesar and look what Arthur did to him."

"He... he won't do that to me."

"How can you be so sure?" Matthew shook his head. "Al, don't be crazy. That demon with the flower in her hair... she was right, Arthur clearly isn't the way you remember him."

"I know he isn't."

"Then...!" Matthew sighed in exasperation. "Do you really think you can talk any sense into him?"

"I have to try. What's the alternative? Let the All Souls Army kill him? Watch him destroy the town?" Alfred shook his head. "I love him, Matthew. I have to try to save him, at least."

"Fine – just let me go with you."

"No." Alfred fiercely shook his head. "I've nearly lost you too many times already – because of my own selfishness. I won't put you in danger again." He looked at Matthew. "I love you too, you know."

Matthew seemed pissed off, stabbing moodily at his pancakes. "I should fucking hope so..."

That's what got us into this mess in the first place, after all.

"What do you think, boys?"

Alfred turned at the sound of Caesar's rich booming voice, leaning over the balcony. The general had stepped over the threshold of the grand old house at Sleepy Hollow's heart that was to become their new HQ, glancing about at the old portraits and peeling wallpaper with his hands on his hips. He gave a satisfied nod.

"Well, I like it, anyway." He looked up at Alfred, then slid his gaze over towards the staircase, up which Ivan was hauling a canvas bag of rifles. "Jones. Braginski. Your thoughts?"

Ivan looked idly about. "I like it," he said. "It is pleasant. It will be nice to have a warm bed, too." All this without much conviction; he didn't sound too bothered either way but Caesar seemed to realise that this was the best he was likely to get out of him.

"Captain Jones?" he pressed.

"It's nice to be back in the States," Alfred said, folding his arms across the balcony. "And it's... fitting, I guess, for an organisation like us to live in a crumbling gothic mansion." He paused. "How did you get it all together so fast, though? I know you said you wanted to come to Sleepy Hollow because of the gateway between realms but even so..."

"The Vatican can move quickly when it needs to," Caesar said vaguely. "We knew it was imperative to set up our operations as soon as possible, now that we have dealt with the errant Hollows in Europe."

"So is that what we're gonna be dealing with here?"

"No." Caesar sounded impatient. "I told you this already. Sleepy Hollow is a gateway between this world and the Banished Realm, home to many loathsome creatures. Demons, ghosts, werewolves..." His fists clenched.

"And vampires, do not forget," Ivan said cheerfully.

Alfred glared at him – all he could do in front of Caesar. Ivan smiled pleasantly at him.

"Still," Alfred said, looking pointedly at Caesar instead, "there's not many of us left, not after that last push into Berlin."

(And after you gave Arthur the boot.)

"We lost quite a lot, didn't we?" Caesar shot him a sickly smile. "I'm afraid to say that the war being over will not change our odds. In fact, our job will now be even more dangerous, given that we are waging battle against all those in the Land of the Banished. Many of the foes we will be pitting ourselves against are far deadlier than brainless Hollows."

"Like vampires," Ivan said again.

"Yes." Caesar looked at him. "Like vampires." Now his amber eyes slid towards Alfred, who didn't blink as he stared him down.

"Our odds don't sound good," he said coolly. "If you don't mind me saying, General."

Caesar grinned. "I know that's how you like it, Captain," he replied. "Besides, we're getting some new recruits in the next few days. I hand-picked a few captured Axis soldiers that will suit our ranks well. There is a Danish soldier who had an axe on him when he was captured, completely insane. I liked him very much."

"Hmm, it sounds like you will be in danger of being overshadowed," Ivan said, watching Alfred fixedly. "Or completely usurped."

"Shut up, Braginski," Alfred said savagely, finally losing his patience.

Caesar seemed amused. "Now, now, boys. Please try to refrain from ripping each other to shreds. I need you in good health." He waved his hand and wandered away, leaving Alfred and Ivan on the staircase.

"Whatever." Alfred snorted, still watching the Russian. "Anyway, how could I be overshadowed by someone dumb enough to get caught?" He gave a shrug. "This Danish guy might be a dab hand with an axe but he still got captured, right? Doesn't sound so great to me."

"At least he did not get himself killed," Ivan replied.

"Neither did I," Alfred said icily.

Ivan tilted his head. "Yet," he said. "We both know it is only a matter of time."

"Fuck you. If I survived that war, I can survive anything."

Ivan shrugged. "You heard Caesar," he said, "even if you did not take heed. That war was nothing. Our real battle is only just beginning."

"Well, I'm still not happy about it."

"I know you're not." Alfred pulled his old bomber jacket out of the wardrobe and threw it on over his clothes, adjusting the thick fur collar in the mirror. Now that he was back in his own body, it fit like a glove, every seam sitting as it should. He could see Matthew sitting behind him on the bed, his arms folded; he watched his eyebrows raise.

"What?"

"You know what, Alfred."

"Do I?"

"Don't play dumb. That jacket – that was yours from the war. Caesar used to let you wear it on patrol."

"Yeah?"

"So what the hell is it doing in Arthur Kirkland's wardrobe?"

"I gave it to him." Alfred shrugged. "Always kind of regretted it, though. Those All Saints Army coats aren't as warm as this badboy."

"So you're taking it back?" Matthew frowned. "Kind of a weird time to take a stand."

"Not quite. Vampires are weird, they've got really heightened senses, and Arthur loved the smell of this jacket. Anything I've got that could stop him ripping me apart in ten seconds flat is worth a stab, right?"

"Oh, so you admit he's probably gonna rip you apart, huh?"

"I'm just trying to be smart about it, okay?" Alfred rolled his eyes. "I know Arthur well enough by now to not take him lightly. ...Not anymore, at least."

"I wish you'd let me come with you."

"We've been over this a thousand times, Matthew."

"Because you won't listen."

"Look, I did this, okay?" Alfred turned to him desperately. "It's my fault, I drove him to it because I didn't trust him. Caesar manipulated you and I both and I believed him. Is it any wonder Arthur thought there was nothing left for him but to join the Elders? I caused this whole mess so I have to be the one to fix it."

"I know you keep saying that but–"

"Besides," Alfred cut in, "I need you to go back to the All Saints Army and find out what's going on now that Caesar is dead. The Vatican will probably send a replacement and... well, I don't think they're gonna let what's happened these past few nights slide."

Matthew didn't look very happy but he gave a defeated nod. "Fine. ...I guess you're right."

"You know it, bro. Ain't I always?"

"Al, the list of times you've been horribly wrong would stretch from here to Mount Rushmore. I mean, for god's sake, you're dead."

"Details, details." Alfred flapped his hand at him. "C'mon, let's go."

The chainsaw in its cloth wrapping was propped against the front door; Alfred slung it over his shoulder as he showed his twin out. The night beyond was dark and bitterly cold, the wind vicious.

"What's that – I dread to ask?" Matthew said from the porch.

"Chainsaw, duh." Alfred showed him a glint of metal teeth.

"Uh... correct me if I'm wrong but haven't you basically cut Arthur in half twice with one of those?"

"Sure have. It's kind of a sore point – pun totally intended."

"Right." Matthew rolled his eyes as they crunched down the path. "And you don't think that that might make him... I dunno, kind of mad the instant he sees it?"

"It's just for self-defence," Alfred grumbled. "I know it incapacitates him long enough for me to get my bearings without causing him permanent damage. A gun's no good, the bullets are like flea-bites to him."

"I know but–"

"I'm not taking a stake, if that's what you're suggesting."

"I wasn't suggesting that." Matthew eyed the chainsaw. "I just don't know if that's the best idea."

"Look, I know what I'm doing, okay? I know how to deal with Arthur."

"You obviously don't or we wouldn't be in this situation, Al." Matthew had to raise his voice over the wailing of the wind, which had picked up and was screaming through the trees, flurries of twisted leaves whirling by like great black beasts. "...Besides, what the hell is a chainsaw going to do against this?"

Alfred said nothing, stalking ahead towards the forest. Matthew caught him up.

"Alfred."

"I really don't know what you want me to say, Matt."

"That you'll reconsider."

"I can't. You know I can't. Seriously, shut up about it, okay? You're like a broken record, it's driving me crazy."

"Well, pardon me for being worried!" Matthew snapped. "Al, you're my only brother and I've already lost you once. That I got you back – in a manner of speaking – is a miracle in itself–"

"You can thank Arthur for that."

"Arthur is the one who killed you!"

"Well, yeah. Jeez, you say it like I'm in denial or something–"

"Because you are, Alfred!" Matthew seized his arm, stopping him. "Just let it go! He's gone, okay? That monster we saw kill Caesar last night... that wasn't the Arthur you knew!"

"I know – but I can snap him out of it, I'm positive–"

"You're kidding yourself. He'll kill you and you know it."

"Well, so what? He's already killed me once. What difference does it make in the end?"

"So you'll willingly go into the jaws of death simply because they're his jaws?" Matthew asked in disgust. "You're even stupider than I thought."

Alfred pulled his arm back. "I'm not stupid," he said coldly. "I've already told you, this is my fault. It's my mess, I'm the one who has to clear it up. If I die trying, well, fine – at least I can say I did my utmost to save him." He looked coolly at his twin. "As we've both established several times, I am already dead. I've accepted that. You're the one who needs to let it go, Matthew. You didn't really get me back. Things will never be as they were. Even if I were to forget Arthur and leave this realm... what can I do? I can't go home with you, not like this. How am I meant to explain this green line on my neck or the fact that I'll never age?"

"I did let it go," Matthew said, his voice low and savage. "When they found your headless corpse in the gutter, I cried and mourned and told our parents. It took me a few months but I accepted it. But then you came back – you came back as a hideous twisted cadaver patchwork puppet, tied to Kirkland's whim. You were nothing but a tool for him to use for his own ends – that's the only reason he reanimated you and you know it. How can you want to throw yourself at his feet after all he's done to you? You're finally free, for god's sake. Fuck him! He doesn't deserve you!"

Alfred let out a breath, the fierce winding ripping it away through the trees. He looked at his twin, who was trembling, his eyes wet.

"Matt," he said softly, "you're the one who doesn't deserve me. You didn't ask for any of this, I know, and I'm sorry I dragged you into it. I've been a horrible brother to you all our lives. You really deserve better."

"Yeah, I do," Matthew growled, "but I got stuck with you, Al, and I wouldn't wish you on anyone else. You're my brother and I love you, I... I just..."

"I know, I know."

"You don't know, you selfish dickhead!" Matthew put his face in his hands. "God, why...? Why did he have to take you? He could have had anyone he wanted, he's been alive for half a goddamn century. Why did it have to be you, Alfred?"

Alfred put his arms around him, laying his cheek on his twin's shoulder. He felt Matthew breathe out against him.

"He didn't start it, you know," he said quietly. "I did. I'm the one who wanted him – more than anything. I was mad about him, completely obsessed with him. Looking back, you know, maybe it was because he was a vampire, this incredible killing machine in such an unassuming body... I thought he was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen."

"I don't want to hear this," Matthew moaned. "I don't, Alfred."

"Yeah," Alfred agreed, "but I just want you to know... that he didn't seduce me or tempt me with promises of immortality or anything. It was basically the opposite. I started it."

"He reciprocated."

"Eventually. We were as bad as each other in the end. Arthur and I... we really deserve each other. That's why I have to go in there and finish this. We belong together."

"In a grave?"

"Maybe."

Matthew exhaled again, quiet. Alfred held him tight, feeling the pound of his heart through the tough old leather of his jacket. The cruel wind tore past them, screeching through the ancient trees, and on its back – from the heart of the town – came the distant chiming of midnight.

"The gate." Alfred pulled back. "Come on, let's get you out of here. I have a feeling things are gonna get ugly on this side."

He didn't give Matthew much time to protest, taking him by the arm and pulling him through the trees. He could see the gate gleaming up ahead, sickly green gloaming through the mist, and knew it wouldn't be long before the barghests began to gather.

"You've got your story straight, right? If they ask where you've been, it's not exactly a lie to say you got trapped this side of the gate after Caesar's operation collapsed. Caesar himself was killed, alongside Ivan Braginski and Søren Andersen. Again, not lies."

"Alfred–"

"But please don't mention Arthur or the Elders or... well, you know. I really can't deal with the All Saints stragglers mounting a revenge attack."

Matthew scowled. "You know I'm not gonna do that."

"Well, not on purpose, sure, but just in case you let it slip–"

"Look, never mind about me." Matthew stopped at the gate, turning back to his twin. "I need to know if you survive this – and, if you do, then I guess you'll want a report on what's going on with the All Saints."

Alfred nodded. "Right."

"Well, then what? It's not like you have a phone between realms."

"Oh, yeah. That would be smart, someone should invent that–"

"Alfred."

"Okay, okay. Look, I'll meet you here. Tomorrow night, okay? Midnight, your side of the gate." Alfred paused. "If... if I'm not there, then..."

Silence. Matthew bit at his lip.

"Right," he said. "Yeah, okay. I got it."

"But I will be there." Alfred clapped him roughly on the shoulder. "Okay?"

"You know you can't promise that."

"Still, hold me to it," Alfred insisted. "Please, Mattie."

"I will." Matthew gave him another quick, fierce hug. "Be careful, Alfred."

"Heh." Alfred squeezed back. "I'll try."

Matthew snorted, puling back. "No, you won't." His gaze lingered on his twin as he stepped through the gate. "Tomorrow night."

Alfred saluted him, watching him be swallowed up by the pale mist between the twisted black gates. He let out a breath, sticking his hand into the pocket of his jacket to feel for the cool comfort of Arthur's ring nestled in the lining. He really had no idea if he would ever see Matthew again, if he truly was simply walking into the waiting arms of Death clothed in Arthur's skin, but it was too late to turn back now. He had nothing to lose anymore.

He slung his chainsaw over his shoulder, turning back towards the direction of the town, and found Francis floating a few feet from him, his lantern held aloft.

"A touching goodbye," the ghost mused. "I always forget that you have a brother."

"Yeah, well, he means the world to me so don't touch him," Alfred growled. "What do you want, Francis?"

Francis smirked. "I am here to escort you to the ball, dear Cendrillon," he drawled, bowing. "In other words... you have been summoned."

"I can imagine." Alfred rolled his eyes, stepping past. "I don't need you to herd me around. I was going to The Blood Olive anyway, I already told you."

"I suppose they thought you might need reminding," Francis said delicately. "You have something of a one-track-mind, non?"

"If you're saying that the only thing I really give a damn about is Arthur, then I guess you're right – him an' Matthew. The rest of you can go fuck yourselves."

"Mon dieu, there is no need to be like that," Francis said coolly, catching him up. "You act as though I am as much your enemy as Caesar–"

"Don't play dumb, Francis. I admit you've been a help to me at times – but that doesn't change the fact that you're friends with Gilbert and Elizaveta and Antonio. You're on their side first and foremost, you certainly proved that last night, so forgive me if I don't play along with a smile on my face. You guys were just as bad as Caesar – you wanted to use Arthur to get the Hands of Lucifer, too – and now you want to kill him because he's a threat."

"Perhaps so," Francis agreed, "but I maintain that you have not been on our side of the gate long enough to form a rational judgement of the situation we now find ourselves in."

"For god's sake, it's none of your business!" Alfred snapped. "You're as bad as Ivan Braginski! Arthur is my husband, I'll deal with–"

"It is our business," Francis cut in coldly. "This goes far beyond your little crush on your commanding officer. This is about all of us and what we must do to survive."

Alfred scowled. "It is not a little crush. It's been almost ten years – I mean, we're married, for–"

"Arthur had me marry him to a sack of assembled bones for his own gain. We may have used him but he used you – and his intentions were far crueller. That is the long and short of it, mon ami."

"That doesn't matter to me," Alfred said, turning his back on him. "Our relationship has been a mess since the get-go. I mean, it was stupid, wasn't it? He was a vampire, I was a human – he almost killed me once and I'm sure that's not the only time he thought about it. But now... I'm immortal too so we can finally be together without the danger. That's all I want now. I don't care about the past. What difference does it make in the end?"

"That is admirable," Francis said, "but I think you will have a hard time convincing him, now that he has become what he is."

"Well, I gotta try. I owe him that much."

"I admire your optimism and your loyalty both," Francis said, "but again, I think you speak out of turn."

"Oh yeah?"

"Oui. You see... you have not witnessed what he has done to the town."

Alfred frowned. "To the...?"

Francis floated ahead with his lantern. "Come," he said grimly. "You will see."

When they at last stepped beyond the boundaries of the forest, Alfred stopped dead on the path, the wind screaming around him. It wasn't what he had been expecting: it was worse. Midnight Marches was choked in a thick greenish smog, the sky heavy with a low blanket of black clouds – and the main street was awash with curled ebony leaves, clustered in gutters and doorways, thick as snowfall. All of this, however, seemed nothing compared to the winding thicket of twisted black thorns crawling their way up each of the crooked buildings, strangling the life out of them. It was immediate and obvious: this was the power of the Elders, now held single-handedly by Arthur.

"I... I don't understand," Alfred said faintly, looking about the deserted street. "Why would he do this...?"

"I have told you already." Francis sounded impatient. "He is not how you remember. He is, in fact, not even truly himself anymore but instead a hundred savage ancient minds in a single body. It is the worst possible outcome, you understand – far more dangerous than Caesar having the weapons."

"You're lying," Alfred snapped.

"I am not, I'm afraid. I have no reason to." Francis looked at him in disgust. "I urge you not to deny what is so clear before you." He drifted ahead, fading into the mist, his lantern soft and distant like a moth. "Come."

Clutching his chainsaw tight, Alfred followed him, carefully picking his way across the cobbles, feeling the damp heavy slush of fallen leaves underfoot. He could hear the cold heavy slither of the boughs, the creak and groan of the old buildings whining under the strain of Arthur's forest forcing itself between their bricks. He didn't understand why Arthur would do this, what he could possibly want from turning Midnight Marches to dust.

Was it possible... that he had no control over what he was doing? If that was true, then it wasn't Arthur's fault at all – and Alfred could not allow the All Souls Army to lay a hand on him no matter what. He wrapped the cord of his saw about his finger, knowing that he would cut them all down if he had to. They should know by now that he had no qualms whatsoever about switching sides to get what he wanted.

The entire town, it seemed, was holed up in The Blood Olive. Ludwig was up and about at last, his chest bandaged, and he and the Vargas brothers were run ragged attending to their overspill of guests. Every last table was rammed, every chair taken so that some patrons were sitting on overturned crates and wine barrels. Whether this was because they were all party to the "meeting" or simply because they believed this to be the securest place in town (safety in numbers and all that), Alfred had no idea – all he knew was that every single pair of eyes fell squarely upon him as he entered the place behind Francis. He barely had time to react but Roderich was before him, one of the commandeered All Saints rifles pointed squarely at his heart; a beat later and he felt one up against his back, too.

"The chamber is switched over to stakes," Vash Zwingli said calmly in his ear. "I don't think you want to try us tonight."

Alfred clenched his fists, glaring at Francis, who gave a guilty shrug.

"I'm not a vampire," he said, trying to keep his voice calm. "That won't kill me."

Half the room, of course, knew that it would incapacitate him, however.

"We don't want to kill you, Jones. We'd have done it by now!"

Gilbert. The pale-haired devil pushed his way through the crowd, grinning madly. He had a bandage wrapped about his forehead but otherwise seemed more-or-less unscathed from his run-in with Caesar the night before, back in his glittering black military garb.

"Nein, nein." He leaned over a disgruntled Roderich, wagging a finger at Alfred. "We have bigger plans for you."

"Shut up, Gilbert." Elizaveta parted the crowd, her face steely. "Why do you have to be such a drama queen all the time?"

Gilbert smiled at her. "We might as well get our fun out of him while we can, right?"

"This isn't a game," Elizaveta snapped. "Not anymore." Her icy eyes fixed on Alfred. "You have no idea what you've done. You should have stood aside last night and let me stake him."

Alfred looked at her disgust. "Obviously I wasn't going to do that, you cold-hearted bitch."

Roderich growled something in German, jabbing the barrel of the rifle against Alfred's chest; Elizaveta, however, smiled frostily.

"I admire your love for him," she said, putting her hand to Roderich's shoulder. "I can understand it. However, believe me when I say that my heart is not as monstrously cold as Arthur's."

"Huh. You're not making a very convincing case."

"A shame." Elizaveta turned away. "Still, we don't need your approval – or even your cooperation."

"...What?" Alfred was thrown off, so much so that he didn't notice Antonio take his chainsaw from him until it was clean out of his grasp. "Hey, give that back!"

"You won't be needing it," Antonio said cheerily.

"Yes I will!" Alfred looked desperately at him, then at Gilbert, Roderich, Elizaveta. "That's what I came here to... look, there's no need for this! I'll go and find Arthur and talk some sense into him, I'll beat him into submission if I have to – but I can make him stop this, I know I can!"

"No, you can't," Elizaveta said. She sounded exasperated. "Why can't you understand, he's not who he–"

"So what, I just stand back and let you kill him?!" Alfred shook his head fiercely. "I'm not going to do that! I'll die before I let you hurt him!"

"So you'll condemn us all instead?" Roderich asked. "Because that is the alternative. He will not listen to you."

"He will, he–"

"No, he won't." Gilbert now; he sounded almost gleeful. "He's gone, okay? Totally lost it, completely batshit. He'll tear you in half before you can finish professing your undying love for him." He grinned. "I admit, I wouldn't mind watching."

"Your words fall upon deaf ears," Francis said flatly. "I have tried and tried to explain it to him but he will not listen."

"Look," Alfred pleaded, "you have to at least let me try – an-and if he kills me then it doesn't matter, does it?"

"No." Elizaveta shook her head. "We cannot afford to do that."

Alfred let out a shaky breath, looking wildly around the room for someone else to appeal to. He couldn't see Belle anywhere – not that he expected her to have much of a voice in this bloodthirsty room – and found Feliciano instead, clutching at Ludwig's arm. Leverage over Ludwig, leverage, perhaps, over Gilbert–

"Don't drag him into this!" Lovino stepped in front of his brother just as Alfred opened his mouth. "I know you think he's the only person in this room who'll agree with you and it's probably true because you're both stupid." His face darkened, tears brimming at the corners of his eyes. "But are you forgetting that I watched that goddamn vampire kill my grandfather last night?" His fists clenched. "He ate his fucking heart!"

"So what?!" Alfred fired back. "Caesar was the bad guy, remember?"

"You poor fool," Francis said. "That is not why Arthur killed him."

Alfred let out an angry breath, biting at his lip. The whole room was silent, expectant, watching him intently. They knew he couldn't argue with that.

"So what, then?" he asked in a low voice. "If you won't let me go to him first then why did you lure me here? What do you want with me?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Elizaveta asked. "We're going to set a trap for your darling Arthur – and you're going to be our bait."

...I felt like I had a lot to say at the end of this chapter but now I can't remember any of it. I hope it wasn't anything important, haha.

Until next time!

xXx