Both Alike in Dignity

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, everyone. It's really appreciated, and it's good to see some of the old fans of the story back as well as some new ones. To answer a few questions; I'm editing because the first time around, this was a rough draft. I posted as I went when I was doing the NaNoWriMo because I needed some encouragement to keep going, and it was largely due to you guys that I finished. So I appreciate it a lot. This will be a final draft, and I wanted it released across several sites (along with later novels) under one name. Yes, Fen is now Jasper, due to the fact that the name 'Fenrir' means 'werewolf' and that was just far too cheesy to keep. Once again, thanks very much for the reviews, and I hope you like this chapter. Reviews make Sebastian purr.

Word Count (overall): 3342
Word Count (this chapter): 1559
Updates: Mondays and Thursdays

Chapter Two


There was no time to react. He flew forward before he even had the chance to turn around. Sebastian caught himself just before his face collided with the gritty ground and sprung back up onto his feet. Where there had been nothing but empty space, there were now a half dozen people around him. Mostly men, some women. All staring at him with ingrained hatred on their faces. What alarmed him most was that whoever shoved him, they were strong. Stronger than they were supposed to be.

He looked for a way out. Sebastian wasn't stupid – he wouldn't let his pride get the better of him, get him killed. A chill clawed its way down his spine as one of the men stepped forward with a tire iron clutched tightly in his fist. He was surrounded. No way out. If they were what he thought they were, he would die here.

Sebastian hated to put his back to any of them, but there was nothing he could do – they closed in, encircled him. He always had his back to one of them, no matter how he moved. Sebastian gave up. His eyes darted wildly before he turned to face his biggest threat – the man with the tire iron. The one that was closest to him.

“Here, kitty kitty,” the man said, looking far too pleased with himself. Sebastian wanted to wipe that smug, superior smirk off the bastard's face. Couldn't do that. He was trapped. Couldn't do anything.

Sebastian crouched slightly. Every hair on his body stood on end. There was no point playing nonchalant. Only werewolves would pack together like this, hunt him like this, hate him like this. They were too strong to be human.

“Your master let you off your leashes long enough to have some fun, did he?” Sebastian asked. He was fucked. They all knew it. He would go down fighting, clawing and biting, but he would
go down. There were just too many of them.

The leader barked out a laugh. It was followed by the rest of the pack – hyena calls, harsh laughter. “Wow, that's... that's really funny,” the man said. “My sides are just splitting. You're a funny guy, for a leech.” He swung the tire iron.

Sebastian dodged backward, but there was nowhere for him to go. It just sent him straight into the wolves behind him. They grabbed him, pinning his arms behind his back so that all he could do was kick and squirm uselessly. He struggled, frantic, yanking at his arms, head-butting behind him. Trying to make contact with anything. Anything at all. He was so much stronger than any mortal, but these guys were immovable, maybe even as strong as he was. And there were so many of them.

The next hit was so fast that he didn't even see it coming. His head whipped to the side. Stars exploded behind his eyes, a harsh gasp leaving his lips. The crack of the tire iron hitting his skull was so loud that he thought he'd been shot. It took him a few long, horrified seconds to realise it was just the sound of his head breaking.

The next one took him in the stomach. He retched hard, dark blood splattering the man in front of him in a violent spray of red. The remnants of his last meal. Another one, this time across the ribs, another hard crack of metal against bone. Another sound, like twigs snapping. He gasped, winded. Couldn't breathe. Tried to kick out again, but the fight was draining out of him with his blood. Hus skin went pale and grey. They wouldn't stop. He needed it to stop.

They didn't even need to hold him, now. He wouldn't have been able to support his own weight. The tire iron collided with the side of his face in yet another hard crack. Searing pain spread out from his jaw and cheekbone. Again, this time higher, fracturing his skull. They were going to kill him. Any mortal would have died by now. Sebastian was still conscious.

His awareness faded slowly. The world dimmed with every slam of the tire iron against his vulnerable body. His body; held in place and jerked around like a puppet by its strings. They crowded closer, the tire iron abandoned for the simple, violent pleasure of fists. Hands and feet. Kicking and punching until he was limp and unresisting. Accepting the inevitable.

Sebastian's head hung down, ruined and bloody. His whole body hurt. It felt like shards of glass were puncturing his lungs every time he took a breath. Every hurt, every second spun out by his pain. Blood drooled from his lips and dribbled from his nose. The world was going dark. It would be a blessing.

Then, it stopped. Everything was such a haze of pain and disorientation that it took him a moment to register that they had stopped hitting him. He heard footsteps, but he didn't think he had the energy to lift his head. There was something fucked up in his neck. He just hung there, his arms still pinned in place by someone behind him. Like they needed to do that.

“Let him go,” someone said. It was a man's voice, smooth and masculine, not as rough as the guy with the tire iron. Sebastian hung in place, his head twitching as he made another attempt to lift it. He tried to pull himself together, take in his surroundings, listen to what was going on. He might have been more successful if his stomach hadn't chosen that moment to vomit its contents all over himself, soaking him in blood. He hoped that was just the contents of his stomach.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Another voice. Low and gravelly. Sebastian imprinted it into his memory. It had been a long time since someone had put him through this kind of pain.

“Do I look like I'm kidding?” Dangerous. Menacing. “Let him go.”

Sebastian didn't know what was going on, didn't have the energy to work it out. He struggled for a second, breathing hard, trying to lift his head. There. There was the man that had walked in on his death sentence. He was tall, taller than Sebastian, taller than most. His hair was dark, inky, darker than his. The man was masculine, stubble on his jaw, eyes a light greyish-blue. The eyes were striking.

“I'm not letting him go. It's not just up to you. You can't make us.”

Sebastian didn't see the blow coming. He groaned as it connected, something breaking inside his skull, a sharp pain amidst a backdrop of agony. He dropped his head, hanging limply from the iron grip holding him.

“Yeah?” A scuffle, movement. Sebastian didn't raise his head. “Let him go, Blaine. Let him go or fight me. You wanna fight me? Is that what you want?”

“No, I just wanna kick the shit out of the leech.” Blaine. Sebastian committed it to memory.

There was a moment of hesitance. Sebastian could almost taste the pack's uncertainty. The hesitance was everything. It was in that hesitance that it would be decided whether he lived or died. They stopped speaking. Sebastian could feel eyes on him. As long as they were indecisive, he would live. He didn't try to look up. He didn't want to see his fate. He just wanted it to be over, one way or the other. He waited, his heart pounding in his chest.

“I'm letting him go,” someone said, directly behind him. Sebastian jumped at its proximity. Then, he was free. He didn't even try to hold himself up. He went down hard, slamming into the pavement and curling in on himself, like he could protect himself from further damage. Unlikely. He just laid there, bleeding.

“Good boy.” Not condescending, but genuinely approving. Odd. “Now walk away. All of you. I'll deal with you later.” A genera; murmur of dissatisfaction followed. If he'd had enough brain cells left, Sebastian would have wondered what 'dealing' with them meant.

“Fuck you,” Blaine said, a parting shot before he turned on his heel.

Sebastian felt them walk away, tremors in the ground getting fainter as they disappeared. Leaving just one. Sebastian was overly aware of him, tuned into his breathing. Couldn't hear his heartbeat, too injured to put his focus into that, but the breathing was comforting. He tried to even his own breathing out to that steady rhythm, but every gasp hurt.

He couldn't move. Couldn't even turn himself over, never mind get to his feet. He didn't know how he was going to get home. He would have to crawl. If he could even do that. The effort seemed like too much. He would never make it. Much easier to stay where he was. Dying wouldn't be so bad. Everyone died. It hurt too much to live.

Sebastian resigned himself to it, focusing on the dumpster next to him. He wheezed out a laugh, then coughed. His vision went hazy, his head spinning, like he was the centre of the universe and everything revolved around him.

“Don't worry, it'll be okay.” Hand on him, turning him over. Blue-grey eyes.

Darkness.