The Tree Fairy

They squabbled over who would drive to the cottage, but in the end, Brandon got the keys and Spencer sulked as best one could with a still healing body. His stitches had come out and rib bindings taken off, but he was still careful to move with conscious effort and not let Liam fly into his arms.

"Li's got his first class today," Spencer said. "Just a couple of hours to judge how he's coming along, if there's more we need to work on before he starts nursery school in another year or so."

Brandon sulked, hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel. He'd barely managed a day away from the busy cafe, and he was worried about his mother, but damn, he did not want to deal with that crazy person living with them, pretending to be Spencer's mother. "He'll like it. Bein' around other kids and all."

"That's the part I'm worried about," Spencer managed. "Other kids. He's grown up around adults. He hardly thinks or acts like children his age. Then again, neither did we. Parents always taught us too much."

"He's social," Brandon replied, jaw flexing. Things had been tense since Spencer came home, and with the worry gnawing at him, all Bran wanted was another damn drink. But, but his little buddy- "Do I have to come in? Can't I just drop you and you can call me when you're done? I'll take my mum into the village for lunch or something."

Spencer sighed. "Are we on about this again, Bran? Can't you just accept that this is how things are?" he said. "No one's seen much of you since I.. came back, and I know my parents miss you. Besides, I'd like to see my aunt. She never comes up anymore."

"I've been busy," Bran grumbled, slumping down in his seat as the cabin came into view. That creature was sitting on the porch, bare feet brushing frosty grass. Bran practically snarled. Just a little harder on the gas and he'd have her-

"Brandon," Spencer growled. "Stop. If you say one thing, I'll flay you with your own kitchen knives."

Brandon braked, hard.

Spencer hissed, clutching his side. "Fuck," he hissed.

"Whoops," Brandon said with an innocent shrug, opening his door. The barmy intruder was at Spencer's side in an instant.

"You alright, darling?" Mary asked.

"Fine, Mum," Spencer said, getting out of the car. "Someone's got his knickers in a twist. I'm half ready to kill him. 'Oh, yes, thank you, BRANDON, for the whiplash to go with my BROKEN RIBS'." He growled, reaching out to hug Mary. "Inside, it's too cold out here, even if you can't feel it."

"Ah, yes, the shoes. I always forget," Mary said with a shrug, assisting her son while Bran stormed the castle in search of his own mother. "The heart pumps warmer and adjusts my core to suit the- y'know, never mind, it's boring."

"Nonsense. It's fascinating," Spencer murmured. "Especially since your old heart.. well.." He tilted his head sadly. "You've got a stronger one this time around. Means you can love that much harder."

"My baby!" Freya squealed in joy, running for her tall son.

"Mumzers!" Bran swooped her up into a swinging hug. "What d'ya want for elevensies, Mum, I'll make you anythin'."

Freya nuzzled her boy. "Biscuits! Any kind. I'm dying for sweeties," she sighed. "The dear doctor is going on about my sugar levels or something. Awful man."

Spencer smiled at Mary, before pitching his voice low. "You can eat?" he asked.

"A bit. I've had an awful craving for oranges, but we haven't any. I sent John to market," Mary sighed, leaning her head on Spencer's shoulder. "Are you hungry?"

"Not really. I snacked with Liam before his class," Spencer said, kissing her head. "We've been doing our best with him, but we're having him evaluated to see if he's missed out on learning the core bits. Frankly I'm feeling a bit nauseated from the car."

"After watching him pull in, I can't say I blame you," Mary said, lingering in the sitting room, not wanting to upset time with Bran and Free. "Why don't you go on in? I'll have a sit in John's chair and wait for him to come back with my oranges."

"Mum, it's not fair," Spencer said. "For fuck's sake, we can't have a cuppa in your own kitchen? If Dad can get over your.. change, so can Bran. He loves you."

"He loves Mary," she whispered, looking down. "Her body. Not this one. It's alright, I'm not awful cut about it." A lie.

Spencer took her hands in his. "Yeah you are," he said. "It's still you. Come on. I'll be awfully put out if I can't spend time with my family." He sniffled a bit.

Inside the kitchen, Freya had propped up on a stool, grinning like a loon. She missed her kids. All of them. She'd never had much luck doing things the 'proper' way, but she'd loved all of them. Brandon was her special one though, her own flesh and blood.

"How's the cafe, love?" she asked. "Sod the biscuits. Make me something special."

"Biscuits are special. If I make you some healthy ones, maybe we can keep your sweet tooth in check and please the bad doctor scoldin' you over some sweets," Bran teased, chopping up some expensive baking chocolate. "Peanut butter oatmeal with dark chocolate chips?"

"Mmm," Freya hummed. "Yes, absolutely. I think there's some dried cherries left in the cabinet too. Talk to me while you cook, love. As much as I love seeing your pretty arse, you hardly say much when I see you."

Brandon reached up into the cupboard, pulling out the near-empty bag of dried cherries. "Seems there is a bit of a mouse-"

"Ah, my fault, m'afraid." Mary hesitated when Spencer half-dragged her through the door. "They were tasty."

Bran glowered at her. "'S fine. Hope you paid for 'em."

"I did," Mary promised, hand on Spencer's arm.

"Wouldn't matter if she did," Spencer snarked. "I don't make Abby pay out for things. Cuppa, Mum?"

"Oooh, yes," Freya beamed. "There's some new tea in the rack. Should go lovely with the biscuits."

Mary gave a small smile and went to sit at the breakfast nook, away from the kitchen island where the family was gathered. Brandon was too bristly with her near him.

"Anyway," Bran said, clicking his tongue. "Cafe's busy, Liam's busy, life is busy. That's really all there is, Mum, not much to tell."

"Hardly! Li's gone to his first class today. Evaluations," Spencer said.

"Aww, baby! Mary, do you remember when Finch went for the first time? Poor love cried. I was horribly pregnant then," Freya remembered, touching her stomach. "About to burst."

Brandon slammed the knife down a little too hard on the remainder of the chocolate, causing shards of it to spill off the cutting board. "Finch is doing well. Sends her love, speaking of."

"Good, good. Nearly any time now for her, huh?" Freya smiled. "Still can't believe you two had one before her!"

"Technically he's Abby's, Aunt Free," Spencer said. "Nothing official yet."

"Tsk, tsk," Freya said. "Nonsense, you three were all ours. Papers or not."

"He's a treasure," Brandon murmured, mixing up the batter with a large wooden spoon. He shook his head. "What about you, Mum? Anything going on?"

"Morning walks with Mary. Shooting practice with John in the afternoon. Discussions about magic versus science with Sherlock in the evenings. He'd dead set on the fact that everything can be explained with science," Freya sighed.

"I worry about your belief in the Fae," Bran said, shaking his head, with a glare at Mary. Didn't matter that with his pale skin and white-blond locks he looked more ethereal than any actor in a film. "Everything can be explained with science and rationality. Not robots and gods."

"Robotics is a genuine branch of technology, Brandon," Spencer said, handing a cup of tea to Freya, heading for the breakfast nook with Mary with the other two.

"But no one has real answers to everything love, like what makes us live or how we began," Freya said. "There's something greater than ourselves. If it is science, so be it, but I believe in setting out the lights on Solstice and sending up prayers. Karma, darling, is a bitch goddess, along with Success. You ought to please them both, instead of snubbing them."

Brandon blinked at his mother with a sour pull to his mouth. "Thinly veiled advice, Mumzers? How refreshing. Fantastic. Let me just make you your cookies and then I'll bow down and kiss the arse of that thing just like the rest of the family."

"Do not talk to her like that!" Mary quipped from the nook.

"Do not call her a thing," Freya hissed. "Whether god or science, it's brought back the one thing I've bloody lost, and no imitation in the world can blind me from what she is."

Brandon practically threw the mixing bowl in the sink, storming through the living room. "I told 'im not to drag me in 'ere, I'm going to get the car. I'll be back to pick up his royal highness later."

"No!" Mary darted after him, grabbing his arm. "I'll go, please stay, she misses you-"

Brandon yanked his arm away from her in horror, causing her to stumble and fall forward. "Don't touch me!"

"Brandon!" Freya and Spencer both shouted.

Freya stormed after her son, snatching him back. "How dare you! How dare you," she seethed. "After the hell you've put us through-"

Spencer helped Mary to her feet. "Mum, he doesn't understand.."

The digital screen on the telly flickered to life. Mary's eyes stayed down on the carpet, cheeks turning pink. "Sorry, I don't- I can't control-"

"Why's the boy crying like a child?" Ford's voice asked as he came into Freya's old living room, holding  a glass. 

"Use your brain, moron. He's just had a classmate die, and then the same week his uncle dies. I mean, I know it's Mycroft, but try, Ford, to just-"

"Shut up, I don't need you to teach me how to raise a child," Ford snapped, plopping down next to Bran on the sofa. The boy curled out of view, hugging in the direction where Mary's voice was coming from, away from his father. "Here, have some of this and stop crying."

"Ford!" Mary scolded. "You can't give that to a seven year old!" 

But Ford was already dumping the brandy down his son's throat, smirking when he coughed. "It'll make him man up. Besides, it's only Mycroft."

"Mum.." Spencer breathed.

Freya watched in horror, hands still tight on Brandon's arm.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Mary said, tapping at her forehead. "Sometimes I can't control- like when I sent those texts because of Jim, and I was so-"

"Moron! Fool!" Mary's voice shouted, glass shattering. A new set of images, fuzzy and flickering. Beakers and test tubes being hurled at an older Ford's face. He reached out, capturing her hands. A daring move, with a new android he assumed she didn't know her strength. 

"He needs you," Ford shouted back, face full of fury.

"I begged you to leave me dead!" Glass shattering on the wall. "I asked you, told Mycroft, do not revive- I don't want to be this just because you think Sherlock needs a babysitter-"

"Not Sherlock! My fucking son, you troll!" Ford roared. He turned away, running a hand through his curls. "You're the only one, and they need you. Sod Sherlock, I'm worried about my family! I can't do what you do."

"Neither can I, now that I'm-" another beaker. "I'm this thing! What have you done to me?" 

Ford steadied her shoulders, pulling her in and darkening the picture. "For once in your life, just stop being selfish so I can be. I can't be a part of a family. I hate it. But that doesn't mean I don't love them, and you can be there, and I need you to be there. For them." 

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Mary said, streaking past Bran and taking off at a run for the woods.

Tear tracks raced down Freya's face. "Mary-" she said, hand reaching out ineffectively after her. She sniffed, sobbing down a breath of air.

Brandon gulped, hyperventilating. "It's her, innit?"

"Of course it is," Freya half-shouted. "Do you think I'm stupid?! Ford was never meant to be your Da, you brat. You were mine and Mary's! I loved him, as a friend, as a lover, but never as my heart!"

"I- I'm going to go. I'll go. She'll come back if I leave," Bran said numbly, feeling a little like he was dealing with a frightened animal. "Leave some kibble on the porch for her." He turned for the door.

"Go," Freya said, heart sinking. "I know where's she's gone. I'll go for my coat." She turned, looking older and exhausted as she patted Spencer on the shoulder as she passed.

"You just couldn't believe," Spencer whispered.

Brandon just shook his head, blinking back tears. He snagged his keys from the bowl, passing John on the way.

"Oh, Bran, you're here! I should've let you do the shopping, these oranges are heavy-" John watched as the silent boy went out without a word. He looked back at Spencer. "He alright?"

Spencer shook his head, reaching out to hug his dad. "No," he gulped. "He's just figured out Mum is ..Mum. Sorry, Dad, I'll call later, okay?"

"Okay, son. I hope she comes back, she's been fussy lately," John sighed, like this was just another day. Which, when it came to the temperamental artist android, it was. "Go deal with that. Love you."

"Love you, too. Look after her, alright? She's upset," Spencer said, heading out to the car, hoping it was still there. He just kept seeing Brandon choking on brandy, then his mother - angry. He half jogged to get into the passenger seat.

Brandon's head was resting on his hands on the steering wheel, hair blocking his face. "You should stay. I'll send Abby up to get you tomorrow."

"You shouldn't be driving," Spencer said, resting his hand on the back of Brandon's head. "Besides, she still doesn't legally have her license."

"Doesn't stop her when you're not about," Bran snarked, but his voice held no venom. "Besides, I've got some dinner plans with a friend. It was a bad idea to come today."

Spencer's hand slowly slid away. "A friend," he said, suspicious.

"Yeah," Brandon pushed his head back up, turning the key in the ignition. "What's the matter? Ain't like you'll be around, what with Liam's busy day. He'll want to tell you all about it. Unless you're staying to comfort M-Mary."

"Right, of course. Go enjoy your.. friend," Spencer said, opening the car door. "Don't forget to use protection," he said right before slamming it closed and heading for the house. The car started and pulled off, driving down the lane.

Spencer picked up his phone, pressing Abby's name in his contacts.

"Hullo, Spence! Just picked Li up from school," Abby said. "Didn' 'spect to 'ear from you."

"Don't let Brandon back in the house," Spencer said, voice dull.

"Sorry? I have to let 'im in, Li's been askin'," Abby said, putting some baby food in the microwave.

"Lock the doors, and put a chair beneath the doorknob. I don't trust him tonight," Spencer said. "He's left me here at the cabin after figuring out my Mum is really who she is, and not some impostor playing with my parents. Call it a danger night. I won't have him around Li, but I've got to smooth things over here."

"We could come up, if you like," Abby said, brow furrowed. She wasn't afraid of Bran, after all, she'd murdered more people than he'd fucked, and if word 'round the club was right, he's fucked plenty. "If you're worried. Maybe your mum would like to see Liam."

"Yes," Spencer said, nodding. "Yes, I think it would help a lot. Be careful, and don't get pulled over."

"'Course not. Not with Li in the car," Abby bent to put a smacking kiss on the boy's forehead. "Li-li, we're going to go tell Mare all about your school!"

Spencer heard the excited scream and giggle. He let himself smile sadly. "Alright, love, see you soon," he said over the phone. He was starting to get cold outside.

"See you soon, babe." Abby ended the call.

Spencer blinked his eyes against the roiling emotions. Of course Brandon always hated to see him cry, hated to see him weak.. he headed for the house.

"Dad?"

"In here, cleaning up after Bran. I thought you'd gone," John called back, rinsing dirty dishes and placing them in the dishwasher. "Bloody marvel, this thing. You know how many years I had to clean up after Sherlock's experiments, and this, just washes the mold straight off."

"He left. Went to meet a friend," Spencer's voice cracked. "Abby's on her way with Liam."

"Ah, well that's lovely. Sherlock is fond of that boy," John said, chuffed himself because who didn't love Liam. "Are you alright? Don't fret, Spence, he's just as overdramatic as any of the Holmses. It'll all blow over. Sherlock and I used to have terrible rows, and don't get me started on Ford and Sherlock-"

"Dad, it was Ford's fault," Spencer choked, putting his hand to his mouth.

"What was, son? We haven't seen Ford in ages," John asked, closing the door on the dishwasher.

"All of it, Dad," Spencer said. "Bran's drinking, Mum becoming.. alive again. It's all his fault."

John sat in a stool at the kitchen island, hands on the counter in front of him. "Tell me what happened."

"M-mum got upset. Lost control when Bran stormed off. I just wanted him to see it was her, Dad," Spencer said, distressed. "A-and memories, or something flickered onto the telly. Remember that kid who died in his class around the time Uncle Mike died?"

"Oh, um, just a little boy who had leukemia, if I recall. We were all busy with Mycroft's funeral arrangements and then Mary's surprise wedding with Sebastian, but I think Free mentioned it in passing. Brandon was sad about it, of course, for ages," John said, scratching his chin. "We let him stay the night with Finch a few times, and then he didn't seem so sad anymore."

"Ford forced brandy down his throat. Could've been whiskey, but doubt it," Spencer frowned. "Then Mum lost control worse. Memories showed her in the lab. Ford brought her back, not Mike. It was all him. She hated it, but he said we needed Mum." Spencer started to cry again. "We did need her, Dad, but she hated it! She hates it!"

"Hush, hush," John sighed, coming over to hug his son, pulling him tight. "To be honest, Spencer, your mother hates pretty much everything that happens to her, I think it's her default setting. It'll be fine, she's here now and we're taking care of her, well, except she's been quite cagey to your Father. It's going to be alright."

"He always fucks up," Spencer sniffed into his dad's neck. "All Holmeses do."

***

Meanwhile, Freya picked through the woods as the sun began it's descent. 

"Mary! Mary, c'mon, love, I'm cold," she called out.

"So go back," Mary said from her position in the tree above Freya. She wiped the tears from her eyes. Sometimes she considered letting the extra water out so she didn't have to cry. "I'll just stay a bit longer. Do you know the way or shall I take you?"

"You'll come with me. He's gone off in a snit," Freya said. "Come down, sweets, please. Please, Mary. You can't both just go off and leave me alone."

Mary rolled and landed on her feet, like a cat, on the ground. She was like a tree fairy with leaves stuck in her tangled red hair and her bare feet covered in dirt. "I'm sorry about what happened, Free. I keep getting a system error. I'm trying to fix it, I shouldn't be projecting things like that."

"Have you talked to Jack?" Freya asked, holding out her hand.

"It's nothing," Mary said, putting her hand in Free's, childlike in a way. "I'll get it sorted, I'm just not used to this. Energy being diverted to sections of my body- I'm," she shrugged. "I'll learn. I'll adapt, at least. I always do."

"I thought he was a safe choice," Freya said as they walked. "Sherrinford. Thought he wouldn't want to be involved, y'know?"

"Well, you were right," Mary said. "At least he cares about you, though. Enough to resurrect your girlfriend. It wasn't all him. Mycroft and Dr. Desmond were there, they did it. He just... helps them, sometimes."

"You aren't just my girlfriend," Freya said softly. "He hurt my son, too. I should've asked to borrow John or something." She laughed bitterly.

"But then we wouldn't have had Brandon. And he is quite brilliant," Mary replied. "Ever so good for Spencer, don't you think?"

"Mary, really? You think that'll last?" Freya sighed. "Especially not with Spencer practically married off. I adore Liam, and Abby is a sweet girl, but my son is not straight. He's a six on the Kinsey scale! Bran's been good for Spence growing up, but I don't know how to help my baby, Mare. He's so.. broken up."

"I like to hope it will last. Who else is smart enough for someone like Brandon?" Mary asked, swinging their hands. "I'm sorry I didn't try to stop Ford. I've always felt responsible for Bran's drinking."

Freya paused, yards from the house. She turned to her lover, holding both her hands. "Mary, they're related, closely so. A beautiful taboo when faced with Sherlock and Sherrinford, but you see the damage their love has cost them. That our love has cost us all. I like to believe in love, magic, and that the gods out there will smile on us, but the world is harsh and the body unkind." Tears started to fall again. "I want to live here in our world, our cottage. I want to believe in the fantasy of peace. That we've fought our way from the bottom, and we can be happy."

"Free! Free, don't cry," Mary said, pulling the smaller woman into her arms. "Shh, you're freezing. You're going to live here, in our cottage, and I'll be here for you until- well, I'll be here for you as long as I can be because I love you, and you're my best friend, and we finally have a chance for a tiny sliver of calm. Lord, trying to keep the calm is the only reason I haven't bloody suggested moving back to London."

Freya sniffled. "He loves you so much, Mare," she hiccuped. "He'll come around. I promise." She squeezed Mary, then pulled her to the house. "You need a warm shower."

"Only if you're coming in, too," Mary said and this time she did shiver. The energy being diverted to the software malfunction was causing her to feel the cold. "I really should've worn shoes this time."

"You should wear'em all time," Freya teased.

They went inside, only to see Liam running around Spencer in circles.

"Bri and Vi-o-let was very fun and we played cops'n'bad guys," Liam exclaimed, zooming around.

Spencer was laughing even though his face was still red and blotchy. A high pitched squeal exited the little boy who nearly lost his footing as he ran headlong into Mary. "Mum," Spencer sniffled, smiling as he pinched his lips.

Mary lifted the child easily, smiling at him. "I hear you went to school! Did you have fun?"

"He was very good, Missus Mary. The teacher says he's go' manners and was the most polite lil' boy."

Liam counteracted this accusation by blowing a raspberry.

Freya laughed, going to hug the boy and Mary at once. "Where's Bran?" she asked, nervous. Spencer frowned and shook his head. Freya's face fell. "I've got some calls to make," she whispered, stroking Liam's hair.

"Go on, darling," Mary replied softly, kissing Free's head. She bounced the little boy in her arms. "Liam'll keep us all entertained, won't you?" She looked at Spencer with a need for family apparent in her eyes. "I need a shower, I was climbing trees. Will you still be here in about ten?"

Abby nudged Spencer with her elbow. "We can wait for her to have a visit with Liam, yeah?"

"We're kipping over," Spencer said, taking the boy back carefully. "Li-li, go get your granddaddy John. Remember he promised you toys." Liam's eyes lit up as he squirmed down.

Mary smiled, trying to hold back the joy she felt. "I'm so happy to hear you're staying. I mean, I know I shouldn't be, and I really think you'd be alright at home, but- Actually, aren't you worried about what would happen if he came back to an empty house? At least text him to warn him."

Spencer went to hug his mother, whispering in her ear. "They're kipping over, I wanted them safe and to make sure you were alright," he breathed, then kissed her cheek. "Go get your shower, Mum."

Mary touched his cheek and then skipped towards the bathroom, leaves falling from her hair. "Be right back!"

Spencer moved to sit with Abby again. He pulled her in for a hug and kiss. "Stay here tonight, okay?" he asked.

"Are you sure that's wise? Won't he be, I dunno, upset like?" Abby asked, leaning on him, listening to Li's babbling in the other room and John's delighted laughter.

"Bran? He'll be upset, angry, and more to the point - drunk," Spencer said. "Liam doesn't deserve to see him like that. I can't even be sure he won't pull some bloke to shag. He doesn't make good decisions while he's drunk."

"Yeah, I wouldn' wan' Liam aroun' 'im if he's going to act that way. I just, you know, I don't like Bran much but he's good to Li, so I worry. If he 'as a family and suddenly makes a mistake and don't have a family no more, don't you think that migh' make it worse?" Abby squeezed his hand.

"I don't know, but there's a lot I don't know about him, Abs," Spencer said. "I mean to find out where we stand. I won't have him repeating the mistakes of his own father."

"Alright, Spence, you do what you think is good. Mary looked happy to see the boy. Bran must've beet up on 'er pretty hard," Abby said, snuggling in. "Your Dad, he don't like me much, but he was pleased as punch to see Liam, too. Weird, ain't it, how one little boy can make so many people happy?"

Spencer thought about his mother, and how she's made so many of them fall in love, be happy, have families that otherwise would've broken to pieces. "Yeah, weird," Spencer said, turning to kiss her.

***

Spencer drove home, promising to get Abby and Liam as soon as things had been settled. He went up the stairs, the same seventeen stairs he'd climbed a million times. In joy, in sadness, in grief, in anger. Tonight, he tried to let it all fall away. He needed a cool mask tonight over a warm heart.

He stoked the fire, leaving it as the only light source. The two chairs that had always sat side-by-side in front of the fireplace had been pushed back, pushed aside for a new love seat, a cozy little thing, to sit in the center. Spencer sat on it, watching the wood crack and pop.

The downstairs door opened slowly, and shut, heavy footsteps climbing up. They paused on the landing, unsure.

"Might as well come in," Spencer said, not looking back. He wished he had a drink himself at the moment.

"I'm tired," Brandon's cracked voice replied.

"Let me rephrase," Spencer said, standing. "Come here. Now."

"I didn't drink, 'kay?" Brandon snapped, coming in to stand in the doorway. His eye was black, though, and his lip was split and bleeding. "I didn't drink, and despite your earlier advice, I managed to control my libido long enough not to shag a stranger. So I'm going to bed now."

"Bed's through there," Spencer pointed towards his own room.

"The kid-"

"Is at the cottage, with Abby," Spencer said.

"You didn't trust me, then? After I told you I wouldn't, not around the kid?" Bran tossed his head, pressing his lips together. "Thanks. I appreciate the support."

"I still don't trust you," Spencer said. "I can't smell you."

"You're an ass," Brandon spat, turning for the bathroom. He hadn't actually seen his face yet, and it hurt.

"All's fair in love and war," Spencer quoted. "You didn't trust me when I told you Mum was for real."

"Rightly so!" Brandon replied, still feeling utterly embarrassed about that. He winced at the person in the mirror, probing the black skin around his eye. He looked like a stupid raccoon. "I stand by being skeptical, instead of just bending over and accepting whatever story gets shoved up their arse."

"I know my own Mum," Spencer said. "And I know you're a wanker. Liam got to spend time with Mum, and I get to force you to talk to me."

"Yeah, what for?" Brandon asked, dabbing some cream on his lip. "Nothing to talk about. Your mum is back, hurrah for all, story over."

Irritated, Spencer smacked the cream out of Brandon's hand, taking his wrists to pin him against the sink with hands and hips and teeth on a split lip, breaking it open again to force blood into Spencer's mouth.

Brandon tried to bite back the moan, tried to think of anything that wasn't arousing. "Spence, what are you-"

"Having that snog," Spencer growled. "Do you have any idea how long it's been?" He ground his hips against Brandon's, sucking at his lip again. "Sleeping with- a-" Kiss. "Baby in the room." He pulled Brandon's hair, bringing the tall bloke closer.

"No, I don't want to do this with you. You couldn't even trust me around that kid, like I'd ever do anything to hurt him," Brandon complained, shoving back at Spencer. "This ain't talkin'."

Spencer's back hit the wall of the small bathroom. He almost cried out, hissing. "Fine, let's talk," Spencer said, unbuttoning his shirt. Slashes of red-pink scarring appeared. "Where were you?"

"Pub," Brandon said, glaring at the scars on Spencer's chest. He gulped, fingers itching to touch.

"What was the kid's name?" Spencer asked, pulling the shirt down his arms. More scars, wrists that wouldn't look the same for months.

"I wasn't with anyone," Brandon said, angling his chin up. Spencer gritted his jaw, slapping Brandon across the face.

"So a door just caused your black eye? I meant the kid that died," Spencer snarled. "I was too young!"

"Oh. Haven't thought about it in ages, don't worry. Nothing to be jealous over. Some bloke in the pub called me a pouf, I had to prove him wrong," Brandon said, looking away. Spencer took his chin, forcing Brandon to look at him.

"So you're saying you aren't?" Spencer asked.

"Not the way he meant it. I slipped out, blighter got himself arrested for disturbances," Bran sneered, although the truth of the matter was Lestrade, a friend of Sherlock's, had seen Bran and let him free.

"If you'd wanted a fight, you could've asked," Spencer hissed. "I'm scarred up, not damaged."

"You were a bit busy, hiding your family from the big bad lush," Brandon snapped. He was starting to feel caged in.

"I was giving myself space," Spencer corrected, letting go of Brandon. "What was the boy's name?"

"What does it matter, he's dead!"

"Because the dead matter," Spencer said. "Especially to the living. His name, Brandon. Dad said he died of leukemia."

Brandon huffed out, sitting down on the closed toilet lid, crossing his arms over his chest. "Ransom. His name was Ransom, and he died. You happy?"

Spencer refused to let him wallow, wedging his arms apart and sliding onto Brandon's lap. "No, you cared for him," he said, stroking through Brandon's silky locks. "Cared so much you cried, and cried."

Brandon huffed again, an irritated stallion sort of noise. Then the huff turned into a sniff. "He's the only one that knew, about my liking boys. He didn't like me back, but he was my friend. And he died."

Spencer kissed his forehead. "Grief hurts," he said. "And your father's treatment.. the Holmeses never know what's really proper. Father's buggered up with Mum, even though he knows it's her. I screw up with you, and you.." He stroked Brandon's scalp, over and over until he cupped his chin, pulling him in for a gentle kiss. "You hurt where we can't see it."

"I didn't- don't get on with my father," Brandon whispered, looking up into Spencer's eyes. "It's not that I didn't want it to be your mum, Spencer. I missed her, too. I found her, for fuck's sake. I just didn't see how it could be."

"An experiment," Spencer said. "A successful one. Father gave me Dad's analogy. Imagine her body now, is like her wheelchair or her cane. It's carrying her inside it, so that we might have more time. She hates that she died, Bran. Hates that you found her. It wasn't meant to happen like that, but she lives. Lives on in a different way, but she's still the same. She feels alive."

Brandon nudged his way under Spencer's jaw, tucking his head into the hollow space near his throat. "I'll try. I'll try to get used to her like that. For you and Finch. I still feel like you don't trust me."

"We've got a child now," Spencer whispered. "And before.. before I was taken, I asked Abby if- well, she is a girl after all." He couldn't quite bring himself to say it.

"If she- oh. Oh like, another one," Brandon replied, a strange fluttering in his stomach. He blinked back the emotion welling up, and cleared his throat. "I s'pose you'll be needing the spare room upstairs, then."

"A bit more than that," Spencer said, holding Brandon to him. "Liam can't sleep in our room forever. Of course, if you'd be keen on another. It's not a singular decision, love."

"You'd want me to stay on, then?" Bran asked, hugging Spencer tight.

Spencer nuzzled at his ear. "I'd be cross if you ever left me," he breathed hotly. "I want to destroy whoever touched you this evening. I was more afraid you'd find comfort in the arms of someone else than of the drink." He pressed his face against his cousin. "Abby still hasn't.. seen all of me. Yet."

"I want it. I want to see you," Brandon replied, shivering. "I want to see the marks they left on you."

Spencer pulled back, standing to pull Brandon towards the bedroom. "It's not pretty," he whispered. "I would've died if Mum hadn't come for me. Moriarty - the real one - he didn't care about what was happening while he had me."

"We thought you already were dead. She's the only one who didn't give up," Brandon replied, licking his lips.

Spencer turned, skin tensing and jerking as terror flooded through him. Clothing made him powerful. This made him exposed, vulnerable. His back was much worse than the front. The front was full of wrap around scars, but his back had taken it all. "I'd never use a whip," Spencer whispered. "Never leave marks like this."

Brandon's tender fingers brushed feather-light touches over the marred skin. "Spencer, you- You're so strong. To have survived this."

"I'll never get that back piece I'd talked about with Finch," he laughed bitterly. "Can you believe I asked Mum if I'd ever have another scene again?" Tears had started to fall. One, two.

"Just wait, you don't know how well it'll heal. It's not," so Bran apparently couldn't lie, "Don't be upset, Spencer. I think it's beautiful."

"I wanted to die," Spencer said, looking up with eyes so grey they nearly glowed. "I was ready to die, and all I could think was what would happen to you and Abby and Liam." Spencer's mouth was twitching into a smile. "You slept with her."

"I slept, in a place where she also happened to be asleep," Brandon corrected, sniffing. He didn't mention how they'd all three clung together and cried, waiting for Spencer. "You were busted up. We were worried."

"Could you sleep with me?" Spencer asked.. no, begged. His body was crying out for pleasurable touch. Brandon pressed up behind him, holding the younger boy so gently, like his bones were glass and breakable.

"Yeah, Spence. I'll sleep with you," Brandon whispered tenderly.

Spencer closed his eyes, head leaning back into Brandon for once. He breathed a shaky sigh of relief. No drugs, no infidelity, just a black eye and a busted lip. He'd never trust that a drink would never pass Brandon's lips again, but tonight, he curled around, pulling his lover down to drink in his lips, hot and wet, and tasting of nothing but the flesh and blood of the man himself.