HE COULD STOMP UPSTAIRS and kick Lucas's ass. But what would that do? It won't fix the problem. Reid will find something else to destroy him. He seeks ruin like a moth to a flame, and Kane can't snuff out every candle in the hope that Reid won't burn himself up.

Kane whispers, "I told you to stay away from him."

"I know," Reid whispers back, and his voice has taken on a faint rasp of held-back emotion.

"Why?"

"Why, what?"

They know what. "Why do you want to hurt yourself?"

Reid tries to move away, half-hearted. Kane doesn't allow him to flee. "I don't know," he whispers with quickening breaths. "Kenneth..."

He pushes at Kane's shoulders, but there's nowhere to go because the bathtub is against Kane's back and his arms are around the idiot, subduing him in a tight hold.

"Stop," Kane whispers harshly, even though Reid's resistance is pitiful.

He grabs Reid's hair, gently tugging him back, forcing their gazes to meet, and the blue eyes that blink at him are boyishly vulnerable with a twinge of fear. 

Neither of them are good at talking about heavy stuff.

When Milton died, there was no funeral. Not that there was a body to bury. The crypt was inaccessible rubble. His dad is ash anyway. He used his magic to blow up the creatures, their nest, and himself. The smell of sulphur probably still lingers there; it was suffocating when Kane returned a day after the incident.

It was just them dealing with the aftermath of Milton's sacrifice, neither strong enough to say the words that needed to be said.

And Kane won't do that again, not anymore. He's dealing with this before he loses Reid too.

Kane doesn't mean to sound so angry, but he's on the edge, and his voice escapes in a gruff, near growl: "What do you need?"

Reid huffs out, "Need?"

"To stay away from this shit?"

"I said, I don't know," Reid snaps with an unexpected burst of anger that has Kane tensing. His head knows this is his idiot, but his body is honed to be wary of the fangs that peek from Reid's lips when he exhales shakily. He resists the spark of anticipation that also awakens.

Then, slowly, Reid's tense shoulders slump. "I need blood. I'm bleeding out here."

Kane's heart hastens. "Take it, but I'm not letting you go."

He doesn't. Not when Reid's fast breaths ghost against the curve of his throat. And not when the sharp pinpricks of pain have him sucking air through his teeth in a bid to not make a noise that isn't nostril flaring inhales.

Then, when the fangs leave and the taking sensation begins, the hurt is washed away by a warmth running hot through his veins and a feeling of completeness he's never felt in his lifetime. There's no forced pleasure to make him squirm. It's comforting shivers that have him sighing softly, akin to a soothing hand smoothing down his back or gentle fingers slipping through his hair.

His gaze is bleary and his mind is adulterated from the bite, but not like last time. He expects hands to rise and take control; his heart hammers against his chest in preparation for it, but not once does Reid touch him beyond his mouth or where their bodies are pressed together.

Kane realizes that Reid is being given; he's not taking, and maybe that's made all the difference.

Reid's no longer an overwhelming wave of vampiric darkness that threatens to drown Kane's rationality and has his fingers twitching for a weapon. Right now, Reid's that boy Kane thought he lost in that bathtub last night. And he's doing his best to not be seen.

He keeps his hold tight in Reid's hair and his arm around his shoulders, unwaveringly firm. He doesn't know if he's holding the idiot to keep him close anymore or to quell the flutters of panic that are alight in his own stomach. He's stuck on the edge and doesn't know which way to tip.

Let Reid go? He'll make mistakes even if it hurts him, but maybe he'll get rid of whatever hunger he has for self-destruction that way. Or hold Reid close? Even closer, and keep the idiot safe in his arms forever.

He knows what he'll choose, but he's not sure if it's the right call. Hannah's made him question when he never did before.

After a strangely comfortable stretch of time, despite the weirdness, he feels Reid stop but his mouth remains.

Kane's lightheaded from the blood loss, with a dry tongue that tells him what he doesn't want to know—he's hungry. Not for food, well, maybe that too; he hasn't eaten since this morning. This ravenousness is a wanting flame of an ache in his stomach, rushing through his blood, burning him up until he's on the cusp of an inferno.

He's disturbed that he can feel Reid. Not from being close physically; this is deeper, mental, his instincts pulling him towards the idiot. He's sure that Reid doesn't actually smell so good, but the ambrosial scent that's invading the cool air of the bathroom is irrefutable.

His fingers in Reid's hair tighten, pulling his head back.

There's a beat of silence as they stare at each other, and the blue of Reid's eyes is filled with such misery that Kane nearly loses his resolve to not let the idiot flee, questioning his harshness, but beyond the glistening blue, there's desperation.

Reid wants to be seen. He wants Kane to hold him down and force him to talk about what's bothering him, doesn't he? Because Kane's seen this look before, and Hannah wore it when she was begging for his help.

How'd he miss that Reid needed him so badly? He'd told Reid he would touch him gently, like the idiot admitted he craves.

So much has happened since then. He'd forgotten.

Is it his fault Reid is so fucked? Did his abrasiveness push Reid to look for comfort in Lucas? He wishes Milton was alive more than ever; he'd know what to do and how to fix this.

"Tell me," Kane orders hoarsely, his rising hunger rasping his tone. He lets go of Reid's hair and cups the back of his head with a palm, feeling the slight resistance Reid gives to escape the forced eye contact.

"You're hiding something." Kane can smell the honeyed scent of Reid's blood, no longer slipping from the wound, healing and drying on his skin. "Don't. Not from me."

Reid tries to look away, but Kane grips his chin, dragging him back to focus. There's a pensiveness in Reid's miserable gaze that silences any words Kane might have said, and the quiet stretches long enough for his throat to constrict and burn with nerves.

Then, finally, Reid whispers, his lips bloody, "I don't know what you want me to say."

"I don't want anything."

"You want my blood," Reid says huskily. His eyes darken. "Don't you?"

There's no denying that truth. Kane does. But he's in a focused state, and that's to get Reid to talk to him. He's dealing with this shit now. He needs to know Reid is standing strong and not wavering.

Kane says, "Answer me."

Reid leans into the palm, cupping the back of his head. His gaze falls half-lidded, and a shiver ascends Kane's spine that isn't from the chill radiating off the tiles and porcelain. "What do you want?"

"Tell me why you're doing this shit to yourself. That's what I want, idiot." Kane knows he needs to quiet his anger. He's close to Reid's face. He can see the subtle quiver Reid's mouth has taken, but the blue of his eyes remains dark, and that pisses Kane off. He lowers his tone to an angry whisper, "I want you to answer one fucking question and stop playing games."

Reid's grin is obviously forced but fucking smug enough to soar Kane's anger because he knows whatever the idiot is about to spew, it'll be bullshit. "What?" Reid licks at his bloodied lips with intention. "You want all the details? You're so naughty."

Kane's fingers fist Reid's hair. "Stop."

Reid laughs lowly. "He beat me with his belt after I asked him to, and then I got on my knees for him—yeah. I did." He smiles past the tears in his blue eyes at whatever Kane's face looks like, twisting with despair. He can't tell if Reid's lying anymore. "Are you jealous?"

"Is that what you need?" Kane asks warily. There's a crazed glint in Reid's eyes. "You want me to be jealous?"

He thought he had Reid fully subdued, but the idiot is strong. He has his hands on Kane's belt before he can stop him. He's halted from going further when Kane's hands shackle his wrists.

Reid feigns confusion. "Isn't this what you want?" The despairing glimmer in Reid's gaze, despite his cocky demeanor, has Kane sick to his stomach. "Why tell you what I did? I can show you."

"Stop," Kane growls.

Reid smiles with bloody teeth. The sight should churn Kane's stomach. It does the complete opposite. And that shows him how far he's fallen.

Kane whispers, "I'm worried about you."

Reid laughs and tries to kiss him with dramatic, pouty lips. It's the last snap to Kane's boiling anger. The raw noise of rage he hears himself make doesn't sound human. 

All the stress he's been keeping. All the what-ifs. All the fucking bullshit that Reid keeps jumping headfirst into without caring who he drags down with him. It's too much for him to handle.

He blanks for a few precious seconds.

Kane comes back with ringing ears, huffing for breath. Somewhere in his bout of madness, he tossed Reid onto the bathroom floor, and now he has the idiot by his throat and a bicep in a bruising grip. He's horrified at himself but doesn't let it show on his face.

Reid stares up with wide eyes, and Kane can see the fear in his gaze. "Kenneth..." He lays a hand on Kane's tense wrist that's holding his throat. He smiles, and this time it's not fucking cocky, because he doesn't dare. "You're hurting me."

That's the last thing he wants to do, but fuck, he's not at the end of his rope; he let go, and now he's falling into the abyss.

He shakes the idiot, like it'll bring some fucking logic into his head. Reid chokes on air when the back of his head hits the tiles and gasps when Kane shouts inches from his face, "Stop! Just fucking stop!"

He doesn't know why he's shouting about anymore. Just stop!

Reid takes in fast inhales, holding back the tears watering his eyes. "I'm sorry. I was lying. I lied...I'm sorry."

No, he's not.

Kane should get up, leave, and calm down. He doesn't because he's beyond angry, and it's only rising.

He slaps his palms against Reid's cheeks, and can feel the violent flinch his roughness causes. "Stop being a fucking idiot. Are you capable? For a minute?" He shouts, "Are you fucking capable?!"

Reid chokes, "Yes."

"I'm going to say it slowly, so you'll understand. I'm. Not. Jealous." He looks between both of Reid's watering eyes, deep, trying to get through. "Lucas is bad news; you know that. You act dumb, but you're not. But fucking go on, go to him. I won't stop you. I can't; that's been fucking shown."

He doesn't know what face he's making, but it must be menacing because Reid's shoulders rise protectively as Kane whispers on angry breaths, "You'll be signing his fucking death. I'll kill him, Reid. I will. Don't make me."

"You're a psycho," Reid whispers back harshly. "You're..." He's not crying, but his voice is choked with held-back tears. "You'll do this for anyone I'm with; admit it."

He forces himself to remove his hand from Reid's jackrabbiting throat and lays his palm flat against the tile beside Reid's head. 

He tries to calm himself by mentally describing the furniture of the room, but he only reaches the vanity with its slightly chipped white paint when he knows it's no use. He's in that state of anger where he needs to let his adrenaline out, or he'll go mad.

"Kenneth?" Reid whispers warily.

How Kane manages to not speak in feral growls, he doesn't know, but his voice holds a semblance of calm when he says, "Fuck...this isn't all about you, moron. Yeah, I'm pissed about your back, but Lucas spat in my face by doing that shit. Mine. That's between me and him, not just you."

Reid gasps out, "Why are you shouting at me then?"

"I'm..." Kane's tired and has to keep himself lifted on his knees, aching places he didn't know could ache. "He hurt you. Badly. If you were human..."

"I asked him too."

"Just because you ask someone to beat the shit out of you, they're wrong if they do. I need to know that you know that."

"Sure."

"Reid."

"What do you want? Sure. Yes. Okay. Let me up."

"You did that shit with Kiernan in the house? After...did he have to feel that all over again?"

Reid's teary eyes widen. He hadn't thought of that evidently. The fucking idiot.

Backing off, Kane pulls Reid to sit, rougher than he should, but he's angry at everything.

Talking about Kiernan has reminded him of that meeting at the auction, where Reid had nearly been powerless to resist. Vampire hierarchy. The creepy power plays and the weird submission.

He's tried everything—warning, threatening, and asking nicely. Now the only thing left is to play the idiot's game and hope it gets through.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Rising and looking down at Reid, Kane tests the strange waters he has no idea how to wade. "Put your sweater on."

Reid doesn't. He blinks up with unnaturally dark eyes. "You're actually mad at me. Why? I'll talk to Kiernan...I didn't—I wasn't thinking."

"Reid..." Kane says, sterner, "Put on your sweater."

Reid looks at the pile of fabric within reach. Then his eyes find Kane, and there's a shiver in the air between them that Kane thinks he probably wouldn't feel if he hadn't taken Reid's blood last night. It's a tipping scale that is leaning in Reid's favor because of the effortlessly delirious way his mere presence clouds Kane's rationality.

"Take my blood," Reid says lowly. "Then we can go to bed and forget about this."

There's a smoky sensation falling over his mind as Reid's words settle. The offer isn't entrancement but it is darkly enticing. But Kane's not giving in. He'll break this stupid scale that's being constantly tipped between them.

Kane says in a gruff, deep tone, "Put the fucking sweater on. Now."

Reid has a hand on the black fabric in a blink. He drags the sweater towards him, his chest rising shallowly. For a moment, Kane thinks Reid is going to try and push back, staring up, and there's a shiver that ascends Kane's spine warningly. But slowly, the familiar blue in Reid's eyes returns, darkness vanishing, and Kane knows he's won whatever this is.

Kane patiently waits until Reid's dragged his sweater over his head, then says, "Turn around."

Reid forces a grin that doesn't reach his miserable gaze. "Bend over? Should I call for Hannah?"

"I said, turn around," Kane enunciates slowly.

"Why?"

"I don't want you looking at me."

Fuck. He should've worded that differently because Reid's expression falls and he takes in quicker breaths. Kane resists the urge to hastily fix the hurt on Reid's face and forces his expression to remain stern.

A moment later, Reid turns, pulling his legs underneath him and staring down at the wooden baseboard, or maybe the shiny vent that's built into the floor there.

"Reid."

"Kenneth," Reid whispers back. He pulls the hood of his sweater up and tugs on the strings.

"We're going to talk."

"No, we aren't."

"Yes, we are," Kane grinds through his teeth. He clenches his knuckles, the cuts there stinging. Reid scoffs like a brat, and Kane takes in a deep, calming inhale that simmers his anger enough to make words that aren't growls. "You can't look at me, or we'll both lose our cool and end up fighting."

"So I have to stare at the wall?"

"Shut up."

Reid sighs.

Kane braves his shoulders against the far wall and crosses his arms, getting comfortable. They're going to be here for a while. "Why did you ask Lucas to beat you?"

Reid looks up at the ceiling and laughs. "Oh..." He hangs his head. "Starting right off with the big one."

"No," Kane retorts coldly. "If I was, I'd ask why you think you deserve to suffer."

"Yeah..." Reid shifts, obviously fidgeting with his fingers. "Gabriel used to hit me with his belt. You know that."

Kane's rage is a fire across his skin, and his fatigued magic flares valiantly. "I know." He stifles the flame in his heart. "Why would you want to relive that shit?"

"I don't know."

"You do."

"When Azrael had me, I froze up... I already told Lucas all this. I don't want to talk about it anymore. It's humiliating."

Kane has a suffocating weight on his chest. "Lucas? You talked to him about how you feel?"

Please, let his gut reaction be wrong. That Lucas didn't fucking take Reid's vulnerability and use it to soften him into pliancy.

Reid says softly, "He's not a bad guy."

"Reid," Kane warns.

Kane can't help seeing the similarities between this and when Reid tried to concoct bullshit to convince him that the moron snorting crushed pills until his nose bled was a good thing. The ridiculous conversation was shut down quickly.

Reid whispers harshly, "He gives good advice."

"I'm sure he does, after hitting you and before he tries to stick his hand down your pants."

Reid shrugs and gazes down.

"You're too confused," Kane says with strain. He's trying to stay calm. He debates getting Hannah and having her take over this conversation, but he knows he has to push through. Reid needs to know he's on the idiot's side, no matter what. 

"You're all over the place," Kane says gently. "Figure that shit out first. Don't do whatever the fuck you've been doing with Lucas, not when we're fighting every day." 

He has to take in a few nostril-flaring inhales to refill his burning lungs. He's on the precipice of blinding rage. "You were bleeding, and if you were human, you'd need stitches. That's a pretty blatant sign to back off, moron. It's not healthy. You know that."

Silence, then Reid mutters, "Okay."

Kane presses the back of his head against the wall for grounding. His fingers are shaking, and this is only going to get harder. "Are you going to tell me why you wanted Lucas to hit you?"

Reid exhales shakily. "I'm weak. I felt like I was a teenager again. I couldn't... I wanted him to beat that boy out of me. I know it was stupid. It didn't work." He takes a moment before admitting, "I broke down."

"What do you mean?"

Reid scoffs.

"You cried?"

"You saw my back."

Kane's heart aches. Reid cries, but not when he should and not when he's in pain. He showed that tonight when Kane scraped that bullet from his shoulder. "What happened? Tell me. I'm making up shit in my head, and not knowing will drive me mad."

Reid stares at a small rip in the wallpaper. "You have to promise you aren't going to kill him."

"Yeah, I promise."

"You're lying."

"Yeah."

Reid snorts. He takes in a deep breath that raises his shoulders and then whispers, "I pushed him. You know how I am. I can't shut my mouth." He laughs, distressed. "He beat the crap out of me. It's kind of funny thinking about it now."

The way Reid has lowered his voice puts all of Kane's instincts on edge because it's the kind of tone someone who's scared of whoever may overhear uses.

"No," Kane returns, horrified. "It's not fucking funny."

"Kind of. I slobbered all over myself, crying."

"What the fuck, Reid?"

"He said I get off on you coming to my rescue. Maybe I do."

Kane asks warily, "Do you?"

Reid hums teasingly. "I can safely say I've never gotten a hard-on from you protecting me." His shoulders rise in a silent laugh. "You're really bad at it, though. I've been shot twice in the last two days."

"Yeah," Kane agrees.

"I was kidding."

"Why didn't you come tell me right away?"

"Because..." Reid rocks forward soothingly. "It helped."

"Helped?"

"I'm hearing voices."

What the fuck?

Legs suddenly weary, Kane slides down, resting his back against the wall in a crouch. He lays his hands on his head and stares at the tiles while trying not to panic. "What kind of voices?"

"Whispers."

"Are you joking right now?"

"No." 

"What kind of voices, Reid?"

"I told you."

Kane glares at the back of Reid's hood. His breath is coming quickly. "Are they telling you to stab me in my sleep? You can't be fucking vague when you tell someone you hear voices."

Reid's silent, and then he whispers shakily, "They're telling me you're going to leave."

Fuck. This is real. Kane doesn't want to believe it. He swallows. "What else do they say?"

"They say lots of stuff."

"Like?"

"Horrible things," Reid chokes. He whispers hastily, "Pain quiets them."

Kane rubs at his mouth. He's freaking out. This is bad. Worse than he thought. After panicking for an entire minute of tense silence, he drops his hand and says gruffly, "You're seeing a therapist."

"No way."

"Well, you're not seeing a dominatrix or whatever the fuck they're called to beat the voices out of you."

"If I walk in and tell them I'm hearing voices, they'll commit me."

Kane hangs his head. He can't deny that fear pangs him as well. "Then..." He lays a palm on his forehead, trying to calm his breathing. "Come to me. If you need someone to smack you, I'll do it. Don't go to Lucas." 

He doesn't know if he could hurt Reid beyond pinches and roughhousing, but he'll do whatever he needs to if it ensures the idiot is safe and not ruining himself.

"Okay."

"But we'll try talking it through first."

"Sure."

"It'll be okay."

Kane can see the shake to Reid's shoulders; the idiot's trying his damndest to hide his misery. He remembers all at once how disturbingly hungry he is, and the want seeps into his voice when he whispers hoarsely, "Come here."

Reid glances over his shoulder. His blue eyes are vulnerably open, and they slowly darken. Stray pieces of his blonde hair escape from the hood of his sweater. He doesn't look away, shifting onto his hands and knees. 

It should be a silly fucking image to see a grown man crawling towards him, but there's a raw feralness to the act that has a wildfire igniting in Kane's veins. He slides down the wall to sit on the floor, hardly aware of the act, hypnotized. 

He's not sure who's the prey and who's the predator anymore.

Once they're close, Kane takes a gentle hold of Reid's jaw, forcing him to tip his head back, and a heavy hand comes to rest on his knee. "It's going to be fine."

He slides a palm over Reid's forehead, pushing away his hair, then shoves his hood down, and blue eyes blink at him, so open.

His mouth is dry, but he ignores it. "I won't leave you. Never. No matter what happens." He means it without a doubt in his mind. If Reid falls into madness or these voices take over, Kane will follow without a second thought. "But if you don't let me help you, I can't."

Reid exhales a shaky sigh. He begins to turn his head, baring his neck, but Kane's grip on his jaw tightens. "I'll tell you," he strains, as if he's sharing in the ache of need that's burning hot in Kane's veins. "I promise. No more secrets."

Placated, Kane stops holding back then.

His hand moves to Reid's hair, tugging, and Kane's moves instinctively to the enticing curve of the pale throat without thinking, his need overruling rationality.

Shaking hands fist his shirt, straining the fabric. 

Reid flinches when blunt teeth break his skin, and then, with a full-body tremble, he falls limp, giving in.

Kane holds him close, running a palm over his hair to cup the back of his head. The blood isn't like last night. This is the kind of shit that's addicting and dangerously perfect.

He's delirious and doesn't fight any longer; for once in his life, he lets himself fall.