Loss hit the team hard because they were such a tight group. They'd come together when they were all starving and were taking almost any job. They'd all wound up here for their own reasons, and when the Hawkes had lost their father, they said good-bye to any chance they'd had of any future they'd planned in Ferelden.

It was by a miracle that they'd fallen in with Anders while he was working on his rather vague mission of redemption. He'd been holing up in his apartment, avoiding people as long as he could until he had to take a job to meet his expenses. The problem with separating himself from people was that now and again it made them look a bit tasty after a while, and that was no way to assuage over two hundred years of guilt.

If Saoirse hadn't known him from Ferelden, recognized him when they ran into him by chance, they may have all been screwed. Or worse, poor. She had her priorities straight.

She and the twins had been his, somewhat begrudging, connection to the humanity he'd been trying to salvage and the people he'd been trying to help. Over the first few months they'd become a family in the loosest sense of the word, with Saoirse insisting they needed to work together and using her almost bossy nature to keep them organized. She shoved Anders into a social setting of sorts with family meals and nights out drinking.

Carver always grumbled, usually loudly and with a lot of words that would make a sailor blush, but he had no choice, really, because where else was a jock from a small hole like Ferelden to go? Bethany had been so happy to pitch in wherever she could, and she was gifted with the computer and the filing and helped get them on top and back in the black. Saoirse filtered the clients with a shrewd eye and irritated most of them until they paid their bills, and Anders and Carver handled most of the gruntwork.

Not wanting to be helpless, especially with an old friend, so to speak, from back home suddenly waking up from a coma and escaping from jail, reportedly on the run for murder, Saoirse took up the crossbow, though it gave her some trouble at first. Anders seemed to enjoy teaching her proficiency with weapons, and before they knew it, she was capable enough at not dying. Carver seemed to take to fighting well enough, if he didn't grumble about it endlessly under Anders' tutelage.

It was Bethany who was never meant to leave the office. She should have been safe there.

That's why, when they were here, just a couple of weeks after losing her to demons sent by Meredith's templars to flush them out, they crept along through the sewers in almost silence.

The guilt hung over Anders like a shroud, knowing how the loss hit Saoirse so hard and she blamed herself for leaving her in the office that day, but Carver seemed to brood more and kept to himself more than normal. At least he'd stopped yelling at them, shouting about how it was all their fault that Bethany was gone.

They'd had to pull it together, though, because this nest of vampires had been hunting and feeding every night, and if they didn't quell their numbers it was going to get worse.

The grating over the rushing drain creaked back and forth as Anders lead them across, silently, standing at the other side. He watched the other two cross slowly, first Saoirse, her new crossbow shaky in her hands, and the first sensible shoes she'd probably ever owned on her feet. Then Carver as he made his way, cautiously, to the middle.

The creaking and grinding of metal became suddenly loud under his weight and before Anders had the good sense to dash after him the chains holding it aloft gave way. Carver reached up to grab purchase and gripped on barely by his fingers, giving a shout.

"Carver!" Saoirse yelled, running forward as if she could do anything at this point, and Anders grabbed her back.

"Stay back! I'll get him." He set his jaw and grabbed ahold of the edge and made his way across, reaching out for him with one hand. "Grab ahold."

Carver reached out with one hand as the grate finally pulled free and both plummeted to the drain.

Saoirse's shrieking was probably a mix of her existing grief and fear of possible loss as she dropped her bow and looked over the side, all the way down. "No, no. Fuck, no."

Anders let himself drop down all the way hoping the to retrieve the boy and take him back up. The rebar impaling him, however, was going to make that a might tricky.

"Shit," Anders said softly, leaning down next to him.

"You-you're telling me." Carver's voice was raspy, the bar obviously having punctured his lung clean through. His chest only rose on one side when he struggled for breath and a slight hiss was heard when he inhaled.

Anders' froze with terror. It was too soon to lose another one of them "You have to hold on just a minute, OK? We're gonna get you out of here."

"Stop telling me what to do," he coughed a bit violently, blood frothing on his lips, "vampire. You and I both know this is it for me. I'm going to be done, just like—like Bethany."

"Don't talk, for once in your life, Carver, shut your damned mouth." Anders hissed at him.

"Anders!" Saoirse yelled down, the terror obvious on her voice though he could tell she was trying to restrain it, "Is everything OK?"

Anders couldn't answer her. He could hear Carver's heart slowing, and he was beginning to panic. Losing him now would kill her. Watching her grieve again would be too much for him.

He rubbed the front of his face. He knew one sure way to make sure that didn't happen.

"Carver, listen to me." He pulled Carver's face to look at him. "We don't have a lot of time, and I can-" he stopped. Was he really considering this? "I can help you. But, you have to know, it's permanent. There's no going back, and the process is … unpleasant." That was an understatement.

He coughed again and there was more froth and foam and Carver's eyes rolled back a little. "What … and be- be like you?"

"Something like that. Carver stay with me. Shit." He couldn't even believe he was considering this at all. He hadn't done this since he'd had his soul. He hadn't fed on a human in decades. "Just, forgive me for this."

He didn't have time to second guess himself. There was not time to wait for a response, and it might have been too late already. He pulled Carver's limp body off of the bar, the blood coming out of him too fast … too damed fast. Before he could talk himself out of it, Anders closed his eyes and sunk his teeth into his neck, and began to drink despite Carver's weak yelp of pain.

He fed on blood every day. He lived on it. It sustained him. But the pig's blood he got from a butcher was nothing compared to the still hot and living blood that flowed out of the neck of Saoirse's brother now. Once he managed the first few reluctant gulps he almost couldn't resist the urge to drink him dry. It pained him, the realization of what he was doing, what he was possibly doing to the boy's soul. He wanted to choke on the tang of each swallow and yet he couldn't stop himself from the pull of human blood. He tried to focus on the feeling of Carver's heart, trying to not let it slow too much, but the fall and the impalement had given it a head start and it was human damned blood. He was repulsed by the thought of his actions, and in his soul he was already feeling the guilt of what he might be condemning him to.

Slow. Drink slow. Not too much.

He didn't know if he was saving Carver or damning him. Possibly both. Perhaps Saoirse would hate him for this. Perhaps this was the wrong thing to … or she might understand.

His heart was faint and the blood was coursing hot in Anders' own veins. Enough. He shoved Carver away from his mouth hard with a grunt, restraining his bloodlust with every last bit of his self-restraint, and using his own teeth he tore his wrist wide open.

"Carver. Carver listen to me, you have to drink. If you-you, don't you'll die. Trust me." Carver recoiled from him at first, weakly, but stubborn and defiant until the last. "Drink, damn you. Don't do this to her. Not now."

He shoved his wrist at Carver's face again, right up against his mouth, and finally he took it, hesitantly, and after he swallowed once, wincing horribly from what Anders could only guess was the taste, finally he grasped ahold of his arm with both hands and fed.

Anders pulled away from him when it seemed he was stronger, even as the kid passed out in his arm. "What have I done?" He palmed his forehead, then scooped him over his shoulder. He turned, looking up to where Saoirse was, easily two stories above them, and leapt all the way up as if it wasn't even a thought.

Saoirse gasped at the hole in her brother before Anders had even laid him on the ground, still feeling the charge in his veins. Moving to take his head in her arms, her hands slipped in the slick mess on the side of his neck. Her fingers found the familiar puncture wounds and her eyes slid to Anders, realization and horror clicking over her pale features.

"What the fuck did you do?" She shouted. "You … fed on him? What's wrong with you?" She was shaking so hard, and then she saw Anders' wrist, and she pushed to her feet, backing away. "What … what have you done, Anders? What the fuck did you do to my baby brother?"

"Saoirse," he began, taking a step towards her, from which she retreated, "I couldn't see you lose another sibling. We just lost-"

"Don't you use her to justify this!" She pointed at Carver's still form on the ground, which was already beginning to heal the massive puncture.

Whatever he'd done, Anders knew it was taking. For better or for worse, they were going to find out if what he'd done had been for nothing.

"We had a chance, I took it!" He yelled, the euphoria of Carver's blood still pumping high in his veins, making his reactions more triggered. "If it doesn't work out, then," then what? He'd kill him himself? "I took a chance. I didn't want you to lose him too."

Saoirse put her hands up in the air, clearly disgusted, tears starting in her eyes. "Fuck this … I can't even … how could you do this to me? He's all I had left, Anders. I can't watch this." She turned and stormed to a ladder leading up and out of the sewer, shoving the manhole cover wide open so that he couldn't follow her.

When you'd been alive as long as he had, waiting until sunset didn't take as long as a person might think. He waited until it was safe and carried Carver back to the office and to his apartment. Not one to take any chances, he chained him solidly to his bed, and sat in a chair not far off, and waited.

He didn't have to wait long.

Carver jerked awake suddenly, thrashing against the restraints with a snarl, his face pulled into the bumpy forehead and fangs that Anders knew all too well.

He slammed the chains hard. "What am I doing here?" His normally brown eyes flashing yellow and feral as they glared hard at Anders. "What did you do?"

Anders didn't get up from his chair, but looked at him with a sad calm. "Carver, do you remember falling?

"I remember you! You monster, what did you do?"

It was safe to say that not a lot had changed. The real question was, how much.

"How do you feel?"

This made him stop thrashing. He blinked, and stared as if he almost had to think about it. "Stronger? M'hungry," he said finally.

"Of course you are. You're probably famished." He came over with a bag of blood from the butcher, and he noted that Carver only blinked at it once, but didn't seem to question it. They were always so hungry after waking.

He held the bag up for him to latch onto as if it were a bottle for an infant, and watched him empty it, and waited for him to ask for more, or worse, object to the fact that it was lukewarm or even that it was pig's.

It seemed to calm him reasonably. "Where's Saoirse?"

"I haven't seen her since-"

"I'm right here." Her lips were pressed thin and her arms were crossed and her hair was piled high on top of her head. She kept her distance, but watched them both, her expression almost unreadable as she took in Carver's new face. She had the crossbow in her hand, bolt loaded, but her hand was steady. "The real question is where are you? Who are you? Are you Carver? Or … what? Give me a reason not to put this bolt through your chest. Or yours." She directed the last at Anders.

Carver's face smoothed out and he looked at them both, the fight leaving him. "What do you mean? What's wrong?"

"You're evil." She snapped. "I'm just waiting to watch you prove it."

Anders noticed that he actually looked hurt, slightly confused. "Am I?"

"Aren't you?"

Anders turned to look at her, moving closer, and when he did she raised the crossbow at him. "Look," he said, hands in the air, "I haven't done," he motioned with his hands at Carver, looking confused in his restraints. "Not since I had my soul back. I … don't know what this means. It may have affected … the process."

Saoirse narrowed her eyes. "And I suppose we all wait to find out if he's on the liquid family lunch special before we know for sure? No thank you. You stay away from me, both of you." She began to back out of the room. She gave an almost sad look at her brother, then a furious one shot at Anders. "I'll never forgive you for this. Ever."

She kept the bow raised as she retreated to the lift.