The Redemption of Peter Wentz

Brendon backed the boy into the lobby desk with a malicious grin, running his tongue slowly over his bared teeth. The fabric of his tailored suit hugged his sinuous form, and Brendon loved the ache of anticipation he got when cornering his prey, the calm before the storm. The hat was missing, somewhere with William, and not the first time he's ever gone out without it. Bangs hung over his possessive eyes holding the boy firmly in a fixed stupor. Being particularly vicious tonight, blood stained various spots of his suit from his victims and the primal fight he picked with a lesser clique. He'd determined that this one was a meager college freshman, probably has a life, a girlfriend, family, but he could deal. It wasn't as if he'd never felt up a guy before.

Leaning in close, he'd pinned the boy's arms to his sides, speaking into the shell of his ear with razored, eager teeth and too soft lips. They pulled back over his teeth rabidly, eager to get this over with.
"Tell me, Bradley...that is your name, is it not?" The poor boy was too entranced to notice that under Brendon's intoxicating scent was the stale stench of human blood.

"Y-yeah." he stuttered.

"Did it ever occur to you..." Brendon cooed, biting his earlobe and kissing the hollow behind his ear. "That considering the likelihood of your repulsive nature, your name is entirely inappropriate, but then again..." He licked a long stripe down his neck. "Bradley is an Old English term for broad clearing. In comparison to mine, little prince, there is an obvious reasoning to it, don't you think...Brad?" He bit mercilessly into his neck, tearing the flesh more with each jerking movement and lips creasing over the pierced skin as Brendon pulled the body into him. For a brief second, his body warmed as he fed, color momentarily returning to his skin, and eyes rolled back in the ecstasy of it all. Brendon broke away from the body only minutes later, dropping the body haplessly and not even bothering to dispose of it properly. Wiping his mouth, he scoffed. "It goes to show that I am and will forever be above you, yourself far, far below."

From the adjacent street, looking into the lobby, Andy Hurley was trembling with adrenaline, watching as Brendon Urie fed from another helpless victim. It sickened him to stand by and wait, but in the back of his mind, it had to be this way, how the natural order of things would play out. But rationally speaking, Brendon wasn't in his proper place. Andy hated to admit that he genuinely cared and pitied Brendon, simply from the fact that he was a Dandie. Andy had known him personally once upon a time, and though it really is hard to grasp, he knows that the whole vampire business is meant to happen, but escalating to Beckett's right hand is as unnatural as he can take. He didn't understand how someone like Brendon could become a sadistic, insane, parasite when all he could ever talk about before was how much he loved the way he could still see his reflection in the broken television screen after having been turned.

Patrick spilling to both of them of what Pete had done, intentionally giving himself to them to get Brendon back, had led them to this. Joe thought it likewise that the whole scenario was about the stupidest thing Pete has ever done (other than giving in and feeding on that girl in public), but Andy thought it to be entirely selfless. With Pete, Andy was the only one to really worship the humanity he held onto, and for Pete to give that up to save someone that is officially deemed a lost cause goes beyond anything he calls truly honorable. Now that the whole plan has gone to shit, they were told to take advantage of the one option they had left.

"Are you sure he'll succumb to this, Joe?"

He shrugged, eyeing the rearview mirror to see Brendon making his peace with Michael Carden, walking down the boulevard with a sort of swagger in his step. "He can't pass this off as nothing. If we can still smell Pete on this, he won't be able to resist investigating. Just keep the hood up."

Andy nodded, pulling it up as instructed, making sure to keep his hair inside and tied back with the rubber band.

He thrust himself out of the driver's side door with a huff (as rehearsed), slamming it shut before pulling out a city map and spreading it on the roof. Andy knew enough of Pete's mannerisms to make this work. He had to be completely obnoxious and self-absorbed. Sure enough, the footsteps closed all proximity and Brendon leaned against the trunk of the black Mustang.

"I don't believe I've ever seen you around here." he mused.

Andy remained silent.

"Looks as if you're lost..." Brendon put a gentle hand to his shoulders.

Still no reply.

"Let me help you. I'm harmless."

"That's a crock of shit." Andy spat, still refusing to reveal himself. Brendon withdrew his hand as if he'd been burned with a growl, bringing it to his nose.

"Why do you smell like Pete?" he snarled, baring his teeth.

Andy slowly faced him now, dead on, with a scowl matching his determined stare behind his glasses. As he looked on at Brendon sizing him up, flashes of memory burned bright in his mind to those moments when Brendon didn't want to kill him, how great a contrast his grinning face was to the contorted, feral state it is now. That memory burned itself into his brain, almost believing that he couldn't do this do him. He couldn't really abduct Brendon like this, to him, it wasn't really possible.

"Hurley, that's a very foolish thing to do." Brendon snarled, backing him into the side of the Mustang. It seemed that even the hair around his ears bristled as he growled lowly in his chest, flexing his fingers and inhaling the new scent on his hand again. "It was a good trick, but all it managed to do was prematurely end your life."

Andy was trying to keep himself from shaking on the spot. He never thought that he would die at Brendon's hands (he was entirely capable of doing it), and was powerless to do anything when he was being cornered alone without a weapon. All he could think of at the moment was Where the fuck is Joe?

With a fit of rage, a cry rang out, with a mass toppling Brendon to the asphalt. Andy let out a long overdue breath, ragged and heavy as Joe wrestled Brendon's swiping arms. He hurried to his side, cautiously bracing Brendon's wrists. Joe's knees kept his shoulders immobile using all of his weight to keep the predator in check. Andy's face was contorted with concentration, using all of his strength to keep his muscles rigid. Brendon continued to fight back, struggling under their bodies and snapping his jaw as Joe fished a cloth out of a vile that appeared out of nowhere. The Hunters worked quickly and efficiently, quiet enough that few would really hear and notice, and decisive enough not to be seen tackling a nineteen-year-old-looking kid to the ground.

Joe pressed the cloth to Brendon's mouth, careful to avoid teeth, and held him down. Brendon didn't realize at first until he mistakenly inhaled, and soon, he began to choke and sputter against the holy water rag against his nose. Joe and Andy had never seen anything like this, immediately scoffing Patrick's instructions on how to properly gag Brendon Urie, and they became astonished at how quickly he had stopped fighting and tried to keep conscious with the heavy fumes. Brendon's eyes rolled back slowly with his convulsions and he actually had to fight for breath.

Brendon began to panic. He never really had to breathe for the three and a half years he'd been turned, but now that his lungs and throat burned like a wildfire, he relished the thought of inhaling the sweet oxygen. His back arched, throat constricting, coughing, and slowly suffocating as Joe and Andy were lifting his dead weight into the back seat and shutting the door. In his desperation and delirium, he could vaguely make out the passing streetlights going by, increasing in speed.

The background noise consisted only of the growling engine and Joe relaying Patrick's plan of action.

"We need to starve him."