Trust Me

[Trevor Browning]

Prompt List

• Rejection
  
• Cold
  
• Sword
  
• Memory
  
• Fairy Tale
  
• Beloved
  
• Alarm
  
• Can't
  
• Ride
  
• Lead

[Trevor Browning]

cold

"Trev?" Tyler called, and his older brother breathed a sigh of relief, all irritation.  He'd had absolutely no intention towards getting separated out here, but Trevor had this apparently stupid habit of getting worried about his untrained brother, or so everyone told him.  New York really blew his mind on the hunting thing, mostly because they had such an organized way of doing things; he was used to rogue hunters, and hadn't even known about the guilds up until he'd come here.  He wasn't used to the backup, or the picking and choosing of targets they did.  He had yet to join up with one, still stubbornly preferring the way his father had taught him, but he could potentially get talked into it one day. 

He shook his head as he approached Tyler, completely unimpressed with the kid's ability to get lost in a paper bag (he'd never understand how Tyler had found him in New York, nevermind the whole, huge country), but he only had a second to be irritated before his eyes widened, then narrowed at a form appearing and lunging from behind his brother.  "TYLER!" he bellowed, already rushing for the two figures as he drew his Colt 1911, but there was no way to get a clear shot and he was too fucking far away.  He hadn't even made it halfway before Tyler screamed, the figure yanking his shoulders backwards as he appeared to stab him in the back.  He heard Laura shout from behind him, her steps more cautious than his, but he was in a flat-out run.  He caught blue eyes and an ugly sneer from the blonde man with the knife, and then he laughed, backed off and disappeared.  Trevor didn't fail to recognize him from the night he and Laura nearly died at that bastard's hands, but that didn't matter.

What mattered was that his brother was stumbling and about to fall as Trevor reached him, and then he was dead weight against the panicked man's chest.  "Tyler, Ty, come on, man," he started, supporting him as he lowered them both to their knees, but the fear was a cold sweat on his skin, a dead feeling in his stomach.

"Ty, hang in here, I got you, it's gonna be okay," he promised, reaching across his brother's back to the wound, where he applied pressure, desperate to keep the kid alive.  Except, it was all blood, and the placement...it was bad.  "You're gonna be fine, it's not that bad, you hear me?  Tyler, I got you, it's my job, right?  Take care of my pain in the ass little brother.  Tyler?  Ty?"

He actually felt it when his brother's breathing against his neck slowed down too far, when his life left him, and he didn't care that Laura was there to witness the way he clutched his little brother's limp form to him, or that it was Lance who finally set a hand on his shoulder to try to snap him out of it and get their asses out of there.  The words he'd spoken to Tyler were the last ones he had for anyone until Bianca tried to get him to eat something in his apartment later.  He refused, a bit curtly, but she left it on the table for him and likely went to tell Laura that he was still sitting there staring at Tyler's cold body where it lay on his bed.  His brother would get a hunter's pyre, Trevor would make sure of it if it came to that, but he couldn't bring himself to it.  His mind hadn't turned yet to acceptance.  There was still dried blood on his hand and his face where he'd smeared it accidentally, and he didn't care.

It was how he walked into the bar about an hour later, decision made.  The low lighting and heavy press of magic and music didn't bother him anymore now than it ever had, but actually felt more like a promise.  He strode right up to the man's table, pressed both hands down on it as he leaned forward, demanding attention.  "I wanna make a deal."

That dark, powerful man raised his head slowly, nearly black eyes taking in the blood, the dark circles, the pale countenance and the absolute determination, and he smiled.  All according to plan.

[Trevor Browning]

beloved

The blood on Trevor's skin was enough for the voodoo man to accomplish the task, of that he was assured, and Trevor wasn't required to be there for much.  He agreed that, when Aristide called his favor in, he would say 'yes'.  That was made very specific, not just that he show up or do something, but that he'd say it.  He didn't understand what that meant, but it didn't matter.  It was his brother's life on the line, and if he didn't say it, didn't follow through on Aristide's favor, Tyler went back to being dead.  It was cut and dry, no gray area or wiggle room.  He was perhaps worried in the back of his mind somewhere that this would go horribly south, but right then?  He didn't care.

When he walked into their apartment (Tyler had moved in with him after the initial blow-up from Midnight had slowed down), all he had to do was see Tyler sitting at the table with a cup of coffee, looking like he had a hell of a hangover, to know that he'd done right by both of them.  It didn't matter what Aristide required, because Tyler was alive and well.  He looked up when Trev froze in the doorway, looking confused over his older brother's hesitation, but the hunter recovered quickly enough.  He shut and locked the door like he usually did, dropped his bag by the door and then didn't stop walking until he reached Tyler and yanked him to his feet for a rare hug.

"Dude, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Trevor lied, giving that precious pain in the ass a good, firm squeeze while he had the chance, which meant that he had like 20 seconds before Tyler started wiggling like a little kid.  It seemed that Trev and Colt weren't the only ones who were lacking in hugs growing up. 

"Then why're you being weird?" the younger asked when Trevor let him go, and the blood dried on his brother didn't escape his attention.  "Are you bleeding?"

"What?"  Yep, that was intelligent, but Trevor looked down at it, then smiled because it was funny in a horrifying way.  "No.  No, man, I'm good.  You good?"

"Yeah, fine, I guess.  Got a headache, did we party that hard last night?"

"Yeah.  Had to carry you home.  Rough night.  Just a headache?"

"Well, my back hurts, too.  I think I got cut on something," Tyler offered, looking a little confused at that, too.

"Oh, yeah, you must've been gone by then.  I got into a fight, you were pretty close, it got bloody.  I think you backed into a fence or something, too.  Pretty sure your shirt's trashed," Trevor explained quickly.  He didn't want to tell Tyler, for some reason, about him having died or what Trev might have traded to fix it.  He didn't want to admit that a fight he'd been in the very first night he'd met his brother would have been the end of Tyler.  It was too much for him, so this little lie to keep it smooth?  He could deal with it.  The truth was painful.

Of course, so were consequences.

In Trevor's case, 'consequences' came a few months later.  There had been nothing to suggest that anything had even happened to Tyler at all, except that Bianca had been angry as all hell with the older hunter (who'd essentially told her to shut her face and stay out of his family's business) and that anger had settled into a milder refusal on either of their parts to be close ever again, though they could be around each other and mostly pretend that they were over it; 'mostly' being the word only because Bianca wasn't nearly the actor that Trevor was, but few people knew how to cover up internal issues like that man.  Even when he got the call that he'd somehow talked himself into believing wouldn't come (through the grief, guilt and anger, he was hoping he'd imagined it), his smile only faltered slightly, his beer coming to rest against the bar in front of him.  He didn't say much, but agreed to whatever the other party had said to him, then hung up.  He finished his beer in one long swig, sliding it to Darren as he stepped up, then ordered a double shot of Jack.  Downing that, he dropped a few bigger bills on the table, gesturing to the others around him, then offered the cat a mangled, half-assed salute that his dad would have been ashamed of.  A quick glance as he slid off of his bar stool showed him Lance and Laura bickering over something, the former looking irritated over whatever his sister was giving him hell for while she appeared nothing less than triumphant as sh punched him in the arm.  Trevor knew from experience how much that shit hurt, so Lance's pained look and sudden return to his verbal defense and his beer didn't surprise Trev in the slightest.  Fiona, Bianca and Tyler were close enough that Ty winced at the punch, but glanced back to whatever his girlfriend was saying to the three of them, but he seemed to be listening to Trevor's lessons in defending himself these last few months, because he was the only one (other than Darren) who noticed Trev getting up.  He shot his brother a questioning look, but Trevor only grinned back, waving like it was nothing and mouthing 'be right back'.

Nearing the door, he took in Anthony (who'd been trying to figure out why the hell one of the pool tables refused to spit out the nine ball for the past half hour) standing up like something bit him as Chloe snapped a towel against his ass, and Ash talking quietly to Danielle at a corner booth.  Whatever it was, it looked serious, if Ash's focus was any indication.  Trev couldn't see Danielle's face, but he'd have liked to; they'd gotten to hunting together here and there, which she'd explained as teaching him to 'hunt smart, not hard' as a way to avoid getting splattered by someone like Stefan again.

Then, he was out the door.  Was it pessimistic of him that he'd tried to memorize the way they'd all looked?  He didn't know what he was in for, but he had a nasty feeling about it as he slid into his car, started her engine rumbling and drove to the Lounge.  Parking there had never been so easy in all of his experience, and he took a moment to run his fingers over the steering wheel, to take in the rest of her as he killed the engine and finally got out.  He shut his phone completely off after declining a call from Laura, then went on in only to have Tempest (whom he'd only met a few times, though he'd recognize her anywhere) take him by the arm and lead him through the shockingly empty place.  "No wonder parking was so easy," he muttered, to which she merely snorted.

Obviously, she didn't think any of this was funny, either.  At least he was in good company, but she was still doing it.  Why?  She directed him into an intricate circle with markings that he recognized vaguely from some old old things his father had looked into once, but he couldn't read them.  "What is it?"

"Don' matter, do it, boy?  All you gotta do is say 'yes', and Papa do the res'," she said, and he couldn't exactly argue.  He wanted to know, wanted to refuse until he was told what the hell he was supposed to be helping with, and his throat was dry as he tried swallowing to combat the nerves.  Everything this fucker did was some kind of ritual, so it could have totally been something stupid like making all the pigeons in the city stop snaking food right out of your damn hands, but he doubted Papa would close the place for something little. 

It didn't matter.  He stepped into the circle like he'd been instructed, the one on his mind being his little brother, the same one who was alive and sitting there with his girlfriend because Trevor had agreed to this.  He thought of Colton, too, probably in some library doing homework, or something.  They were both safe, so maybe he hadn't done too badly.  When Papa Aristide came out of the backroom, the smile he offered was almost sad, but he nodded and got right into it.

Trevor got the gist pretty quickly, and he didn't like it, but he kept thinking back to that fucking curious look out of his brother, back to Tyler's body falling limp against him, back to that panic and grief, and when prompted with that blinding white light causing him to squeeze his eyes shut, he ground out a gruff, but simple, 'yes.'  As if on cue, the door swung open so hard that it smacked against the wall beside it, and Trevor twisted around just in time to see the man's face before he took a bullet to the chest.

He had a new memory of Tyler to cling to - his brother had paid attention to his firearms lessons.

[Trevor Browning]

alarm

How hard did it suck for Trevor that the last image he had to cling to was Tyler's scared, but determined expression as he pulled the trigger, Laura and Lance busting through the hallway behind him.  Too late to stop him, assuming they would have, since the two of them had been...weird since that vampire took Laura over the edge of the bridge.  He'd wanted to strip her wet clothes off himself, jack up the heat in the car and get cozy to try to bring her body heat back up (since she wouldn't let him take her to the hospital), but she'd been determined that she had to get to Lance, so that's where he'd taken her.  He wasn't sure if they were both blaming him, or what, but in that split second he had to notice their appearance behind his brother, he didn't know what they'd have done.  Then, it didn't matter.

There was nothing like taking a bullet.  There were things that sucked as hard or harder, but bullets had a unique kind of agony to them.  At first, it was a pressure that just sort of took your breath away, and for Trevor, came with this sick, cold shock that went down his spine, that horrible realization that it was bad.  That didn't happen often, mostly just because he could take a hell of a hit, and the shot should have leveled him.  He sure as hell lost his footing for an instant there, the force of the shot knocking his center of gravity back and the searing hot pain sweeping through his torso, but he hit the edge of the circle and stopped moving, almost like he couldn't leave it.  Then that cold dread feeling hit even harder as his perception of the world seemed to both freeze and speed up to a million times its usual.  It didn't make sense, but the pain spiked through his entire body, drawing a strangled scream from him (he'd made some low, pained sound upon taking the bullet, but that was not this) and he lost his grip completely.  Even as he did, the pain ebbed back and disappeared.

He straightened, taking the center of the circle with a more confident stance, like center stage was right where he belonged and he wasn't trapped, and rolled his shoulders back.  Trevor was taller than other people gave him credit for, but he didn't usually stand up to his full height; it was more impressive when he did.  When he scanned the room, there was the slightest impression of a light behind his green eyes, but that was the least of it.  He looked unimpressed, almost amused, like he thought this might be a joke and just wanted to wait for the punchline before he laughed. 

"Fuck," Tyler muttered, the gun in his hands feeling heavy and useless now.

"Nice shot," Trevor returned, still seemingly amused by it all as he gestured to his chest.  "Aim needs a little work, you were a few inches off from the heart, but still not bad."

"Trevor?"

"You wouldn't have shot him if you really thought that, Tyler."

"Someone wanna tell us what the fuck is going on?" Laura demanded, able to feel the power contained in that circle, but she had no way of knowing what it meant.

"Do you want to, or should I?" Trevor asked, turning to Aristide behind him with an eyebrow quirked up.  Yep, the punchline was on the way.  "Not that I'm complaining, but I'm not even entirely sure why you pulled me up here, but I'm assuming it's not because you're a fan.  Let's be honest, none of them ever got the magic right, and just looking around, I can tell it's not your usual."   

No, it wasn't the voodoo man's usual, and that was totally obvious; the creature was playing, for now.  Papa and Tempest deserved credit since, for never having done anything of quite this magnitude, they were fairly calm.  Papa stood there with blood on his hands, watching the entire thing carefully.  This could quickly become dangerous, and as he made eye contact with the creature within Trevor, he knew that they both were aware of the threat level here.  Papa was no fool, that was for sure.  "Ah raised you for a purpose, yes."

"You know I'm not a dog that can just be leashed, I hope.  This circle won't hold for long."

"Non, it won't, but it won't need to.  'Stead a' worryin' 'bout what's goin' on in dis room, maybe you reach out a little further?" Papa suggested, well aware that it had already started.  He hadn't wanted to do this unless he absolutely had to, just because of the risks involved.

Trevor smirked, cocky even now, but he turned back to facing the trio at the door, eyes turning up and to the side, almost like he was considering something, and he briefly looked at Laura and Lance, that smirk turning into a sly smile.  Still, he swept further, looking for something more worthy of his attention than a few frisky witches, and that was when his eyes narrowed.  He twisted back towards Papa suddenly enough that he hit the edge of the circle as nearest the voodoo man, causing sparks to fly and the air to crackle.  He seemed unaffected by it, but Tyler definitely jumped, raising the gun a little.  Trevor reached backwards, glancing down his arm at the kid and snapped, "You shoot me again, and I might forget how much your brother loves you."

Just as quickly, he turned back to Aristide, the fun and games over.  "That makes more sense.  You knew you couldn't hold me, but you don't have to, because I'm going to do what you want, anyway.  Well-played.  What happens when I turn your dreaded 'Great Old Ones' into a delicacy?"

"We deal wit' dat when it happens."

"So you say."  The smile he offered up wasn't so amused as before, but it had an undeniable sense of...almost excitement to it.  He had room to move, finally.  Papa Aristide didn't look convinced, but Trevor gestured to the circle.  "You did plan on letting me out?"

"Firs', we make a deal.  I let you out, you don' go killin' people.  You focus on de monsters comin' t'rough until dat's all done, den we deal wit' de res'."

"No killing humans?  What about your tricky little brother?" Trevor asked, expression and tone suggesting he knew waaay more than he should have for being on the scene for just a few minutes.

"Ah'll deal wit' him."

"Uh, still waiting to hear what the fuck is going on," Laura snapped, having obviously gotten impatient, and Trevor snorted both at what Aristide had said and the little witch.

"What's wrong?  Tired of standing around while the grown-ups talk, sweetheart?" he asked, turning once more to face her more fully, then glancing at Aristide.  "Deal's on, let me out."

"Who the fuck are you?  'Cause you're not Trevor," Lance pointed out. 

"That's a hell of a question, I have a lot of names."

"Lucifer," Tyler murmured, and Trevor flicked his eyes to the younger brother, smirking.

That smirk turned into a full-on grin as Aristide leaned forward to smudge a line in the circle, and the same barrier than had crackled and sparked earlier when he'd hit it did absolutely nothing when he took a step towards the trio in the doorway.  Tempest glanced at Papa, reaching for Baptiste's hand discreetly, and Trev drew in a deep breath like it was the first he'd had in ages. 

"Bingo."