Brandon didn't think Holden and his dad were making much sense. They kept exchanging these weird glances, gesturing to certain students as they watched them from their vantage point on the balcony above campus. The most they would say about it was that it was some kind of game to them and it would all be worth it in the end. Oh, yes, that's reassuring. Not.

What was supposed to be a simple lunch was quickly turning into something much bigger. Since Thalia had jumped ship, all Brandon could think about was whether or not Skyler was right, and if his family really was a bunch of crooks. Two people he trusted had said so thus far. They logic on their side, too. It would be impossible to deny the criminal records. But... people changed. They grew. And wasn't life all about reconciling with your family while you had the chance?

"Dad, what was this supposed to be about again?" Brandon murmured to his father, searching for something that would allay his fears.

"Just getting to know you better, son." Brandon hesitated.

"But you've just been staring at the quad for the past..." He consulted his watch. "Hour."

"I'm people-watching! If you want to talk, though, let's talk. So, how's school?" Timothy's eyes didn't move, even though he claimed to be focused on his family. "That girl you were seeing, how's she?"

Brandon blushed, staring at the ground. It wasn't like he'd wanted to let things end with Skyler. It just didn't sit well with him to listen to her slam his family all day. Even if his best interests were at heart, he couldn't handle going back to being the Thomas kid, the first suspect whenever anything went wrong, just because of who he was associated with.

"We broke up a while ago," he informed his dad shortly.

"Ah. Well, I never liked her much anyways."

"Dad, you've never met her." His father turned to him, finally making eye contact.

"Yes, well. Those Finlay's always have some sort of an angle. Trust me, kid. They're not good news."

Brandon leaned back in his chair, troubled. He'd blamed so much of the tension between the two families on the Finlay's, although it sometimes seemed as though his father was the real culprit. Anything and everything that was remotely unsatisfactory was because 'that Finlay guy' was in charge or 'those two Finlay twins were here the other day.' For the first time that day, Holden spoke.

"Dad, he's here."

Immediately, Timothy's eyes flicked back downwards. He zeroed in on a man with fiery red hair walking stiffly to the office building. Brandon's stomach clenched. Speak of the devil.

"You're waiting for Skyler's dad?" he gulped.

"Quiet, Brandon. We have to take care of this," Holden snapped.

"Holden, where's the kid you said you hired? I thought we had this set," Timothy growled.

"We do. He should be there... Ah. I see him now."

Brandon followed their gazes downwards, finally settling on Ashton, who was jogging up to Mr. Finlay happily, blocking his path. The clearly irritated principle subtly attempted to edge around him, only to be cornered again.

"Now," Timothy barked.

"Dad... What's going on?"

"Do it, Holden, do it!"

Even though it was all Holden's responsibility, Brandon felt his organs scramble in anticipation as his brother reached into the pocket of his heavy winter coat. He'd seen enough cop shows to know what happened next. His mouth was dry with shock and his eyes were wide as a hand gun emerged and was pointed straight at Mr. Finlay's head.

What happened next was a mystery to Brandon. Well, he knew, but he didn't. It was like he had died and was watching the world from the point of view of an angel. Everything fit seamlessly together: what Skyler said, what Thalia accused Timothy of. "No!" he saw himself shout. His fists wrapped themselves around his half-brother, throwing him to the ground. But it was too late. A shot echoed through the campus, sending the crowd of students running. Brandon held his brother fast to the ground, struggling to keep control of him.

"Let... Go...," Holden managed, grabbing his upper arms mightily and rolling them over.

Brandon aimed a knee at his stomach. In the back of his mind, he realized it was kind of exhilarating. Who knew attacking your brother could be so much fun? Maybe he'd become a cop one day. It didn't take too long to change his mind when the barrel of the gun faced him, Holden's pale fingers struggling for the trigger. It was impossible. Maybe Holden was a bad guy, but he wouldn't kill his family. No one could. It was against human nature. Right?

Instinctively, Brandon grasped the barrel, rounding it on his brother. Holden wouldn't shoot, he couldn't. They would just grapple like this until the police came. There would be no second bullet.

But then there was, and Holden Thomas was dead.