AN: Thanks again all you lovely people who are reading and reviewing. We do love to hear what you think.
Lots of guesses about who we are, which we love. Some of the people we are not include Mercurial, Flower Picture, Tesswer and Soggy Teabag. We love them all, but we are not them. Keep guessing. We love your guesses.
Brendan awoke that evening in a mixed mood. On the one hand he was now completely certain he was going to get Steven into his bed, more than willingly. There was no way the boy could resist the obvious attraction forever. He would cave in no time and last night's dream had proved it.
On the other hand he'd been denied what would probably (if Steven's desperate and powerful grip on his waist and shoulders was anything to go by), have been the best dream sex of his life. Again by Amy. Bloody Amy. Getting to have Steven beside her all this time, just because she got herself pregnant. Brendan hated Amy. Brendan should really have her killed. He wondered if that would help or hinder his journey to Steven's pants.
He arrived at the club an hour before it was due to open. It should have been early enough to avoid the never-ending feud between the two women in his life. It wasn't. Sometimes it was a surprisingly relief to Brendan that he was gay.
"Brendan! Mitzeee keeps calling me fat!"
Brendan groaned. Cheryl was clattering towards him in ridiculous heels that she could barely walk in, as Mitzeee clattered behind
"I never said that! I just asked her when she was going to start looking like a vampire."
Brendan wished vampires could get headaches. Then he might have an excuse to go home.
"Yeah and then she told me I should drink low fat blood! I mean, there's no such thing is there?"
"It was a joke! Take a joke, Cheryl!"
"Are you two ever going to give me a break?" Brendan moaned.
"Don't know what you mean," said Mitzeee with a tiny smirk.
"Brendan!" cried Cheryl, eyes wide looking ready to cry.
"Sorry!" Brendan groaned, instantly regretting the effects his words had on his sister, feeling a pang of guilt at the hurt on her face. Cheryl didn't look appeased.
"Am I annoying, Brendan?" she asked, her voice almost childlike.
"No! Course not!" Brendan replied.
Cheryl didn't seem to hear, "Is that why I'm single, Bren?"
"Eugh," sneered Mitzeee, "how needy can you get?"
"No!" Brendan cried, "you've just not met the right man."
"Of course, babe!" agreed Mitzeee, and Brendan looked at her in surprise. He shouldn't have as Mitzeee continued, "It's hard to meet a man who thinks leopard-print spandex is a good look, but he's got to be out there somewhere."
Brendan groaned again. Thankfully Mitzeee's barbs almost always stoked temper in Cheryl rather than her self-misery.
"At least I don't dress like a two bit whore!"
"Jesus, Mary and Joseph," sighed Brendan and he left them to it. He wandered towards his refuge of the gangway above the dance floor.
"Er, excuse me?" said a quiet voice behind him.
He turned slowly to stare at the skinny blond woman who had just arrived. She smelt human and he should have noticed her arrival, but was distracted by Mitzeee and Cheryl. There was something familiar clinging to her scent. Maybe that was why he hadn't been alarmed by her arrival.
She was clearly nervous too. And stressed.
"Are you Brendan?" she asked.
Brendan took a step towards her, using his height as the only intimidation he probably needed with someone so frail, although she was taller than she looked. She had Steven's scent on her, as well as a general scent of children; he could guess who she was. Nevertheless, he said: "Depends who's asking."
"I'm Amy," she said, "Leah and Lucas's Mum."
An angry monster reared its ugly head in Brendan's stomach. He hated Amy.
"Well?" he said, unkindly, "what do you want?"
"Er, Ste asked me to come," she said, "it's not… I mean obviously there's been a mistake, because obviously he wouldn't do something like that… I mean, he couldn't!"
Ste. That stupid name again. Who could call someone as breathtakingly beautiful as Steven such a silly, nonsensical name?!
"Yeah, get to the point, Amy," he instructed, lip curling in distaste. This pathetic, skinny little thing had slept with Steven.
"Ste can't make his shift," she said worriedly.
Brendan put his head to one side trying to pretend this didn't matter to him as much as oxygen did to a human. "Why's that?" he asked.
"He's…" Amy shifted, looking uncomfortable, "I mean, it's obviously a mistake, but… he's been arrested."
Brendan took a moment to understand the words. "What?" he said.
"He didn't do it!" Amy cried, "Please don't sack him! We need this job!"
"Arrested for what?" Brendan demanded; taking an unplanned step closer, not sure if he wanted to encourage or intimidate.
Amy bit her lip. "Er, I need to go pick up the kids from nursery and find him a lawyer and…"
"Arrested for what, Amy?" Brendan repeated, growling this time.
"Murder," she whispered, and Brendan suspected a human might not have heard her she was so quiet. Brendan was not human.
"What?" he growled, furiously.
She misunderstood the fury. "He didn't do it!" she cried, "of course he didn't; he just found the bodies, right? But the police think it's suspicious that he found three, but then someone reported the last one before he could, and…"
She was rambling now. Brendan put a hand on her shoulder in what he hoped was a comforting manner.
"Hey, I know he didn't do it," he said.
She looked at him wide eyed, "Do you?"
"Course," he said, "No one who knows him could ever really think he's capable of something like that!"
She blinked at him. He could feel the next question she was going to ask. It would be about how he knew Steven so well after just a couple of days. He didn't want to answer it so he continued before she could ask.
"Look, I'll sort out the lawyer stuff," he assured her, "I've got a good one, loads of experience. You go look after those kids of yours, yeah?"
She blinked at him again, looking at him like he was some sort of super being. "Are you sure?" she said.
"Course," he said again, "I'll have him home in no time."
"I… I don't know what to say…" she stammered, clearly overwhelmed.
"Just look after those kids, yeah?" Brendan repeated. If he played this right he could get a thankful Steven all to himself for a whole night, without Amy even questioning where he was. "I'll have him call you as soon as he's a free man."
"And… and he's not sacked?" Amy asked worriedly.
Brendan chuckled, as darkly as he could, "I won't be letting go of Steven that easily, Amy." he stated, hoping she'd pick up on his meaning. She didn't. She threw her arms around his neck.
"Oh thank you, thank you!" she said, clinging to him.
She hugged him. Amy, whom he hated. He shivered, wanting to shove her off and throw her out of the club. He did neither, and waiting uncomfortably for it to end.
"OK," he said, feeling massively awkward as she let go.
"I've got to get the kids," she said, "but thank you, Brendan!" She almost ran from the club and Brendan sneered after her. He still hated her, possibly more so for showing faith and care for Steven and Steven's children. He didn't want to hate her and feel grudging respect for her.
He turned to tell his sister and hanger on what he had to do. They'd eavesdropped. Because they were not going to let him have secrets.
"So, lover boy's been arrested?" sang Mitzeee. "Who'd have thought such a skinny little thing could be capable of murder?"
"Of course he didn't do it!" scorned Cheryl, "What are you going to do, Brendan?"
Brendan rolled his eyes at the pair of them. "I'm going to get him out, of course," he said.
Ste was getting annoyed.
"I told ya! I just found 'em," he said for what felt like the thousandth time. "I mean, who reports murders they committed themselves, eh?"
DI Trent looked at him levelly and coldly. "Someone hoping they could say that to the cops?" he suggested with no more passion than someone suggesting an alternative for dinner.
Ste groaned. "Look, I'd only just left home, right? Ask Amy! And I was working when I found the other one! And aren't I supposed to have a lawyer or something before you ask me stuff like this?"
Trent's bottom lip curled, showing Ste exactly what he thought of that system. Ste folded his arms.
"Well, I ain't saying anything else, right?"
He meant it, he really did. But he'd said it a number of times already. He had been gobsmacked when still in shock at Walker's words and finding Macca's lifeless body, the arriving police had aggressively demanded his name and what he was doing. He'd mentioned that it was he who had discovered two other bodies. The police had glanced at each other, then quickly shoved him against the bonnet of the car and cuffed him.
He'd complained forcefully, but it had made no difference. And now he was sat in an interview room at Hollyoaks police station and this bloke was looking at him like he was an unimaginable monster. And just like all the other times he couldn't help himself.
"I ain't done nothing!" he cried.
Trent actually rolled his eyes. "Fine," he said, "tell me about your job."
Ste screwed up his nose. "Why do you wanna know about that?"
Trent shrugged, "Gotta do something til your brief gets here," he said, "and anyway, it's just a fact isn't it? Nothing to do with the case?"
Ste supposed it couldn't hurt. "I'm a barman," he said.
Trent kept looking at him expectantly, waiting for Ste to say more. It couldn't hurt.
"At a club called DOA."
"Like Vinnie?" said Trent.
Ste snapped his mouth closed, realising the trap Trent had set for him. Trent smirked with satisfaction.
"So how long have you worked there, then?" Trent asked.
Ste held back a snarl as he answered "A couple of days."
"Interesting," said Trent, theatrically checking some papers in front of him, "so basically, Vinnie went missing and you got his job?"
"Well…" Ste said, knowing it was true.
Trent didn't let him continue. "You are definitely someone who has benefited from these disappearances."
"I…"
Trent was on a roll now, "One of the only people I can find who has, in fact."
"No, right…"
"You killed Vinnie for gain, but then you got a taste for it, didn't you?"
"No!" Ste was shouting now.
"Do you enjoy taking lives, Ste?" asked Trent, viciously.
"No!"
"Do you enjoy the power you have over a person? Enjoy having them at your mercy?"
"I haven't killed anyone!" shouted Ste.
"You…"
Trent never finished the accusation. The door flew open.
Brendan had felt like a loon arriving at the police station, flagged on each side by Mitzeee and Cheryl (apparently wanting nothing less than to make them all look like Charlie's Angels). He quickly got into it though.
"Excuse me," he said to the first young police officer he came across: a young woman in her mid-twenties, looking professional and smart, who looked at him with intelligent eyes that quickly told of her attraction to him. He smirked. "I'm looking for Steven Hay, I heard he's been brought in."
"Er…" she said, looking nervously about herself, "Are you his lawyer?"
Brendan smiled at her reassuringly, "Something like that," he said, "is he through there?"
"Er… I don't think I can just…"
Brendan looked her straight in the eyes. Her expression of nervousness relaxed and she gave him a gentle smile, Brendan knew he still had it. It was Steven that was somehow resisting his mind control. That boy was full of surprises. "Look at your sheet, sweetheart; everything's fine."
"I look at my sheet," the police officer repeated, "everything's fine."
"You will agree to take me to him," Brendan instructed, and the police officer was only too happy to agree.
"I will take you to him," she said, and turned towards the internal door that Brendan knew led to the cells. He glanced around. Mitzeee had got the duty sergeant smiling inanely in agreement, as Cheryl had a member of the public looking at her in confusion.
"Are you alright, dear?" asked the old lady sat in the waiting room, looking at Cheryl with mild concern, "you look a bit constipated."
"I'm fine!" Cheryl snapped, and turned on her heel to follow Brendan and Mitzeee through to the cold corridor beyond the door.
"Stay here," Brendan instructed the women; keen to feel the lion's share of Steven's gratitude himself, looking forward to the potential reward and not willing to share any of that with Mitzeee and Cheryl.
Mitzeee smirked at him knowingly, but Cheryl complained.
"Can't I help?" she moaned, like a child hoping to bake a cake.
"Oh, because that's what you've been doing up to now!" snapped Mitzeee.
Brendan turned his back on them and followed the waiting police officer who smiled charmingly at his approving look.
"He's in there," she said.
"Thank you, darling," Brendan said, "please show my sister and our friend back to the waiting area."
"I will show your sister and your friend back to the waiting area," the officer replied, with another smile. She obeyed and Brendan only spared the retreating forms of the three women the smallest of glances before turning his attention to the task in hand, the rescue of the man he … was currently obsessed with.
The door opened easily and he stepped through confidently. Steven was sat at a table, looking flustered, opposite a youngish dark haired police officer in plain clothes.
"Brendan?" Steven snapped, "What are you doing here?"
He didn't seem pleased to see him. Maybe he was embarrassed at the situation. He obviously hadn't realised Brendan was here to rescue him.
Brendan turned his full attention to the rude police officer who had had the audacity to arrest Steven. He had stood with surprise at Brendan's entrance.
"Excuse me, you can't just walk in here," he complained.
Brendan glared angrily into his eyes. "I can do whatever I like," he growled.
He saw the man's eyes lose their concentration. "You can…" the man blinked, surprised at his own words and Brendan experienced a moment of worry. In all his years as a vampire, just one mortal person had managed to resist the mind control and that was Steven. If a second person managed in the space of a few days, Brendan wasn't sure what he would do.
He stood a little taller and improved his intensity as he repeated "I can do whatever I like."
This time the officer caved, offering little less resistance than warm butter, "You can do whatever you like."
"'Eyar, what ya doin'?" Steven cried, angrily. Brendan ignored him, keeping his concentration on the scum before him.
"You have realised that Steven could not possibly have committed these crimes."
"I have realised that Steven could not possibly have committed these crimes."
"He has a solid and unbreakable alibi and besides, he would not be capable of anything so appalling."
"He has a solid and unbreakable alibi and besides, he would not be capable of anything so appalling."
"You have decided to let him go without charge."
"I have decided to let him go without charge."
"Good boy," Brendan smiled at him like a bug that had agreed to leave a picnic, "go fetch the paperwork then."
"I'll go and fetch the paperwork then," the cop said, stupidly and obediently left the room. Brendan kept part of his brain focused on him. He didn't think he would break the hold but it was always possible.
The rest of his brain focused on Steven.
Who for some reason still wasn't looking at him with adoration, admiration and gratitude.
"Steven," he greeted, hoping to prompt those emotions.
Steven looked at him askance, "What did you just do?" he demanded.
"Nothing," Brendan replied, automatically. He'd forgotten Steven hadn't figured out the vampire thing.
"Did you just control his brain?!" Steven cried.
"Maybe, a bit," Brendan said, strangely apologetically considering he'd done nothing wrong.
Steven looked somewhere between shocked and disgusted, "Have you controlled my brain?"
"No…" said Brendan, honestly but hesitantly.
"But you've tried, though haven't ya?"
Brendan did not like how this had turned out. "Hey, why am I being accused of stuff? I just saved your neck didn't I?"
"My neck didn't need saving!" Steven shouted at him, "I've done nothing wrong!"
"Yeah, but…"
"What are you, Brendan?"
Brendan was taken aback by the question. He couldn't admit this. He hated what he had been made. He hadn't been the one to choose it. It was only Steven's entrance to his existence that had stopped him ending it all. He needed Steven to stay and for that to happen Steven needed to get to know who he was, not what he was. He didn't want anything to get in the way of the relationship with this beautiful boy.
"I'm Brendan Brady," he said.
Steven looked at him appraisingly and Brendan realised there was a change; Steven now held a hint of fear that had not been there yesterday.
"Steven…" he started.
"I'm not going!" Steven stropped suddenly, folding his arms.
Brendan frowned, "Of course you're going, I just got you out."
"You did something weird and evil to get me out," Steven replied, "I didn't need you to."
Brendan took a deep breath to keep himself calm. "You're coming," he ordered, "or I will make you."
Steven glared at him, "I don't think you can," he said.
Brendan grumbled. The little bastard had figured him out, realised Brendan could control minds but not his own.
The look Steven gave him now was scathing, "Go away, Brendan," he said.
Brendan was pissed off now. The police officer returned; face still blank and gave him some paper, most of which was blank. Brendan took it wordlessly and shoved it into his pocket.
"Come on, Steven," he said.
Steven turned away from him, sitting stock still.
Brendan did the obvious thing. He picked the boy up and threw him over his shoulder.
He could hear Steven's protests, feel kicks to his front and hits on his back. But didn't care. He carried him out of the cell, through the waiting area full of smiling, contented, hypnotised people and confused Cheryl and Mitzeee and out into the street.
He put Steven down outside.
The boy was red faced and livid. He hit Brendan on the shoulder, "You bastard!" he shouted, "you utter, bastard! It's you, isn't it? You're the monster! Just like he said!"
Brendan was completely lost. He'd expected to be on his way to his place for some incredible sex right now, but Steven did not look anything like up for that. "What are you going on about?" he sneered.
"You!" Steven shouted, "I can't believe I trusted ye! I can't believe I thought you were nice!"
"You can trust me!" Brendan cried.
Steven glared. He was impossibly angry now, but Brendan saw something within him shift. "I don't feel well," he said, "I can't work tonight."
Brendan frowned. The boy was lying. He could tell. But he wasn't expecting him to work tonight. Maybe it was embarrassment. Maybe he just needed time.
"Fine," he said, "I'll see you tomorrow."
Steven nodded stiffly and turned to leave. Brendan watched him go, sad and confused. What was going on in the boy's head? And how on Earth was he keeping it from Brendan? He had to find out. He'd have to visit his dreams again.
Ste had too many thoughts. He had barely got used to the idea of being accused of something he hadn't done, when Brendan had wondered in acting like Derren Brown. It had freaked him out and he'd come to the only conclusion that had been available to him.
"Are you there?" he asked the darkness. He could feel eyes on him, suspected he knew who it was, hoping he was right.
"I'm here," said Simon Walker, emerging from the shadows.
Ste watched him, still not at all sure what he was thinking was right. "Why do you hate him so much?" he asked, buying himself time more than anything.
"He's a vampire," said Walker, factually, emotionlessly.
"So are Mitzeee and Cheryl and a hundred others according to you," Ste pointed out, "why do you hate him?"
Walker looked down, and took time to answer. "He… killed my brother," he said, in a quiet, broken voice. Ste looked at him closely, still not at all certain he believed the man.
"Right," said Ste, steeling himself. "I'm not saying I believe you, right?"
"Right," said Walker, waiting patiently for what they both knew was coming.
"I know he's not normal though," Ste said. It was hard to admit that. It seemed to create a great ache in his chest.
"That's because he's a vampire, Ste," said Walker.
"I don't know about that, but…" Ste took a deep breath. This was the right thing to do. Brendan, however beautiful and appealing, was some kind of monster. There was a reason Ste kept finding these bodies, and he somehow knew it was something to do with Brendan. "I will watch him."
He felt Walker's relief all around him. "And report back to me?"
"Yeah," said Ste, nervously.
Walker gave him a smile, a gentle one this time. He held out a hand. "Ste Hay," he said, "Welcome to the right side."
AN: Dun dun dun! Reviews will make us write faster!