Brian's POV

I stood, pushed Justin to his feet (he'd been sitting on my lap) and around the side of the couch, and then shoved him into a crouching position. I decided to see how far bluster would get me. I swung around and sauntered up to the gun-toting trio and barked, "What the fuck do you want?" Meanwhile (as I saw in my peripheral vision), realizing that the intruders were distracted by me, the gang rushed for cover. Daphne and Archie made a mad dash for the other side of the couch (where Justin was), and Brent crawled behind the chaise, on which he and Emmett had been sitting, pulling Emmett down with him. Mel and Linds crawled to the coffee table and around it until they were hidden behind it, and Ted joined them. Then stupidly brave Ben pushed Mikey off of his lap and behind him, but didn't move from his perfectly Zen cross-legged position.

My question, and my sharp tone, had taken the trio by surprise, as I had hoped it would. In fact, they all gaped at me for a long moment. Finally, idiot number one (Chris Hobbs) snapped, "What do we want? Isn't that obvious? To finish the job."

I swallowed hard, and my hands shook, but I quickly got my body and my facial expression under control. My hands now steady and my face impassive, I nodded slowly. Then, in an even voice, I asked, "So you're prepared to kill ten people?"

Hobbs's blank stare and furrowed brow told me he hadn't considered anything beyond shooting Justin and perhaps me. "You aren't wearing masks. Even if you managed to evade the cameras outside and in the downstairs entryway, which you probably didn't, there are ten of us here. If you leave anyone alive, there will be witnesses. A judge might not give you jail time for the rape charge, but murder is another thing altogether."

Hobbs's friends both muttered, "Rape charge?" Fucking Christ! Didn't these goons read the paper?

I forced myself to smirk and drawl, "Even worse for you, one of the ten people here is a cop. Do you know what cops do to a person who kills one of their own? If they catch you, you'll be begging for jail time."

Idiot number two (a tall, broad-shouldered guy with a shock of red hair, pale skin, and freckles all over his face) cried out, "Chris, you didn't say anything about killing a cop!"

Idiot number three (a short burly troll with bad skin, dishwater blond hair, and an overbite) nodded firmly.

Hobbs clenched his jaw and spat out, "Who's gonna care what happens to a bunch of fags?"

I tilted my head and narrowed my eyes. "Really? Really? Do you think playing the "my victims were gay card" is gonna work for ten counts of first-degree murder? That's a far cry from simple assault, even if it was a hate crime. Plus, your former classmate Daphne and her boyfriend aren't fags. And I highly doubt that anyone knows the cop is gay. And please. You kind of outed yourself when you raped a man. The gay card works both ways, you know. Oh…and yeah. Did I happen to mention that there are cops patrolling this street? One gunshot will bring them all up here. Even if you manage to kill us all, the cops outside will intercept you. And even if they don't, which is highly unlikely, I imagine one of the cameras got a good look at you coming in. The moral of the story is you're fucked. Your only hope is to get out. Now. And unless those guns are registered, I'd suggest leaving them here."

Hobbs shook his head. "You have got to be fucking kidding me!" But idiot number two (the red head) took my words to heart. He laid his gun on the floor and backed out the door, his hands up in a gesture of surrender until I could no longer see him. As he tromped down the stairs, I could hear him mutter, "I'm not risking jail time for a fucking faggot!"

I huffed a laugh. "And then there were two…"

Hobbs turned back and swore when he saw that one of his friends had chickened out.

Suddenly Ben whispered, hissed really, "Justin, get down!"

I snapped my head back and saw that Justin had poked his head up from behind the couch. Hobbs heard Ben's hiss and immediately squeezed the trigger (he had been holding his gun in front of him, his feet a few inches apart and both hands on the gun; in fact, all three had been positioned that way when we first saw them.) I heard the gunshot and then heard Justin cry out in pain.

The next thing I know, I'm on top of Hobbs, his gun in my hand, beating him with the butt of it. Though I did not know it at the time (the gang later filled me in about what had transpired before Hobbs pulled the trigger and while I was beating him senseless), Brad had spent the few minutes I was talking to the intruders slowly making his way to the front of the living room, crawling quietly from one piece of furniture to another. So when I tackled Hobbs, Bud was close enough to lunge at the other guy, disarming him in a matter of seconds. Unfortunately, Bud was a little bit tripping, so he was easily distracted. Once he had the gun, he smiled and breathed a sigh of relief, completely forgetting to turn the gun on the guy he was straddling. He just held it in the palm of his hand. So idiot number three threw Bud off of him, sending the gun sliding along the floor and out the door and Bud into the wall (and with such force that the collision knocked Bud out cold). Then idiot number three scrambled for the gun the 'traitor' had left behind. Both Ben and Mel jumped to their feet and rushed toward him. Mikey cried out, "Ben, don't! You'll be killed!" and then jumped to his feet and rushed after Ben, trying to grab him around the waist and pull him back. Eventually Mikey managed it, but not for a few minutes. It took Ben quite some time to disengage Mikey, who was sobbing desperately as he kept reattaching himself to Ben and trying to drag him back to safety.

So that left only Mel. She managed to seize idiot number three's legs and yank him back. Unfortunately for Mel, being a relatively small though strong woman (as I knew well from the many times she'd punched me in the arm or the chest), she managed to yank him hard, but the force of the yank sent her tumbling backward. She hit her head on the coffee table and lost consciousness. Linds cried out, "Mel" and started crawling toward her. Then Ted, Emmett, and Archie and a recently freed Ben all lunged at idiot number three. They tackled him football style, piling up on top of him.

As I mentioned earlier, I had been unaware of all of this. The second I had heard Justin cry out in pain, I had gone berserk. I was blinded by rage. All I could see was Justin lying in a pool of blood and Justin, bloody and bruised, lying on that filthy mattress in the crack house. All I could hear was Justin's small voice. So many words swirled in my head, frightened, pleading, desolate words:

"It's dark. I can't move. Everything hurts."

"It's not like I blame you. I'm bruised all over and after seeing me at that house and then in the hospital…Ugly, weak, and helpless. Filthy."

"Why couldn't it always be you?"

"Make me yours again. Please."

"I'm going to get sick and die."

"If you are so hot to blame someone, blame me! I was the one who taunted Hobbs on Liberty Avenue, and I was the one who went to Ethan's apartment that night. I believed his bullshit. Put myself in danger…After all that, I don't know how Brian can love me."

"You really still love me? Still want me?"

Those words propelled me on as I wrestled Hobbs to the ground, ripped the gun from his hand, and started beating his face in with the butt of it. I hit him over and over and over again until his face was a bruised, bloody, swollen mess. And I wouldn't have stopped. Not until Hobbs had stopped breathing and maybe not even then, when his body had grown cold and lifeless. But then I heard Justin's voice again. More frightened, pleading words. He cried out, "I'm okay. I'm okay. Daphne tackled me to the ground. I hit my head on the floor, but Chris missed me. You don't have to do this. Please, stop…stop…"

More frightened, pleading words. But this time, I was the cause of Justin's fear and desperation. I froze mid swing and looked over at Justin. He was crying, his face pale. Linds and Emmett had paused their ministrations on their wounded lovers to look up at me in shock, and Daphne, Jughead, Ted, and Mikey, everyone but Ben and Justin, were gaping at me. I shook my head to clear it and then set the gun down on the floor gently. The soft thud sent an unpleasant shiver down my spine. There was blood everywhere. On the gun, on my hand, on the floor, pooling around Hobbs's head, all over Hobbs's face and neck. Not counting the blood that had splattered on my face, neck, and chest. I slid off of Hobbs and onto the floor. Then I let my head fall and closed my eyes. I had done what I'd just narrowly avoided doing at the police station. Now Justin could see me as I truly was. In all my gruesome glory, crowned and bathed in blood, hovering over a near corpse. Born and raised in cruelty and violence, I had become what I loathed.

I was a monster.

The fear in Justin's voice and the looks of shock and horror I saw on just about everyone's faces told me that.

Which is why I was shocked to find Justin in my lap a second later, his arms wrapped tightly around my neck, his warm breath tickling my ear as he whispered, so fast and so urgently, "Master, I was so scared. So scared I was going to lose you. That you'd kill him and they'd take you from me…You can't ever let that happen. Remember what you said in the limo on our date? You said, 'I need you with me. Always.'"

Justin let his head fall onto my shoulder. I could feel the wetness of his tears on my skin (I was wearing a wife beater). In a voice that trembled, he repeated softly, "Always."

I wrapped my arms around Justin and held him tight. So tight. Then I murmured softly, "Always, Angel. Always."