Do I Need It? (Am I Under Control?)

Epilogue, Part 1

It's over, it's really over.

Tommy's adventure is done in this fic, but his childhood isn't. For more Tommy of this universe, just go onto my Archive Of Our Own Account Riverinnit, or Carosbee.

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The sun was nowhere to be found, shooed away by the abnormally light moon. Though, it was familiar – the L'manberg moon had always been a tourist attraction.

Though, the family that sat beneath it were accustomed to such a moon, particularly so the eldest three, as neither of them were human.

If they sniffed hard enough with their bloodless noses, they could have smelt the familiar scent of fearful coldness, or, in other words, vampires, who raced up and down the streets at the speed of light itself.

It was comforting, even more so considering how far away it was, a nice change from how dangerously close such scents had been to what was theirs.

But that was far away, as they were far away from the residential streets they knew so well, and even further away from the Sweet Stretch, where Tommy had once lived, desecrating himself with the fangs of the many, corrupting himself for a few pennies.

Now, Tommy relaxed, as a boy of his age should (despite the younglings complaints). The scene was joyous in context and content, with a family (however dysfunctional) sitting down and allowing themselves to indulge in the finer things of life.

Wilbur was off being odd, Phil with his hand on his son's lap, in a way that barely stayed on the right side of the possessive to platonic line. Techno? Well, he had his hands through Tommy's hair, braiding Tommy's hair in a pattern he'd learned from a medieval princess he'd murdered.

His hands had the slightest stain of blood, which was not the only sign of what they truly were. In fact, it was one of the least obvious, when one looked at their vibrant red eyes, and forced themselves to endure the agony of the coven leader's air alone. Phil, to his side, nursed a red chalice, Phil's favourite.

It was Tommy's birthday, and, like a good family, they were celebrating, in the city, like Tommy wanted, quietly, like Tommy wanted. It was his seventeenth birthday after all: he could drive, he could... There were a lot more things he could do!

He was another year older, and it marked another year the Crafts could see Tommy alive and breathing. Another year before they could legally make Tommy coven. Another year before their family was complete.

Wilbur passed Tommy a coke As they sat down and prepared for movie night. "Thanks, Wilbur." Tommy thanked his older brother. "No problem, Tommy. It's. It's fine, you deserve to be spoiled." He sighed as Phil flicked through the options on the TV.

Tommy was rather exited, as they didn't have a TV back at the mansion, and besides, he'd be having a rather exciting day the next day, meeting a fledging Phil had reliably informed him would be familiar to him. Tommy hoped for the best, but Phil could be a little old (and perhaps mildly senile), and so Tommy's expectations weren't exactly too high (that was a fucking lie, his Dad had given him everything).

"Tommy, mate, what should we watch?" Phil asked, holding the remote out to him with a fond, fatherly smile.

Tommy grabbed the remote and looked up at the TV. There was a murder show about some human prisoners being educated by vampires in prison, a film about Wilbur (which he'd been utterly insufferable about, Tommy still wasn't sure how he'd survived the premiere of that shitshow) and Avengers Infinity War.

He thought for a moment, before clicking hastily on Avengers Infinity War. Of course, there were other films, but nothing else would probably be as appealing. And besides, if he didn't pick quickly, he'd be wasting the day.

"Everyone cool with this?" Tommy asked, gesturing at the TV as he took a swig of coke.

"Bruhh, does Tommy think we're going to make him watch Wilbur's documentary again... On his birthday? Bruhh... Bruhh..." Techno exclaimed.

Tommy's cheeks turned a rosy shade which was functionally unobtainable for 1% of the population. His family stared at him with an affectionate mix of pity and amusement, and Tommy clicked again and the film came on, the hulking, cinema-sized TV in front of them blasting out sound from the surrounding speakers.

It was times like that when Tommy... Knew. He knew he was loved, he knew he was cared for, he knew he was cared about. It was fuzzy and nice, and Tommy never wanted the feeling to end, even if his cheeks still had a red tinge to them.

Though, soon both of those feelings were overshadowed by his mind being consumed by the film, his attention only diverted to take another sip of his coke. Techno relaxed his hold on Tommy's hair, which sat at just below shoulder length. His braid was done, and the teen looked like a cross between a princess and a soldier, what with the thing, fang-shaped scars covering almost his whole body.

Phil stared at his son, unable to concentrate on the film, unlike his children. Phil knew who'd made such scars, and he knew why. He also knew how much he wished he'd made them suffer more, every time he heard Tommy scream in the night and every doctor's visit.

He was important to Phil, and Phil knew just how he hated harm coming to those that were his, whether it was Wilbur, Techno or Tommy. They were all of equal value, but Tommy was just so horribly fragile, and it hurt him far too much to think about Techno's brutal tearing of his neck. The scar, red and agitated, looked as though it would never go away, not even during turning, which Phil knew suited both him and Techno just fine. They...needed a reminder, of the consequences of their actions, and it would naturally serve as one for millennia to come.

Hours later, when Tommy nodded off after another two films, Phil kissed his youngest's unconscious head with the full love of a parent, silently praying to his wife up above for no harm to come to his unofficial coven member. It didn't matter that Tommy in human form would never know the full extent of his love, not until he became one of them, but the prayer did serve as a gentle consolidation, a delicious test of what could be, what would be.

One day, Phil knew, Tommy would understand, and it would be perfect.

A knock at the penthouse door interrupted what could have possibly been the most aggressive Minecraft session between two individuals. Both Wilbur and Tommy rose from the sinking sofa, though Wilbur sorely lacked the sheer zeal of his younger brother as they walked together over to the door, ready for anything to happen.

Phil and Techno appeared (unsurprisingly) behind them like mismatched shadows. The family looked around at each other, and Phil gave an approving nod in Tommy's direction, giving him the confidence to open the door to whatever friends were at the door.