*BRIEF MENTIONS OF ACTIONS FROM PAST CHAPTERS / NO REAL TRIGGERS IN THIS CHAPTER*

Brendon couldn't focus.

No surprise, honestly, that he couldn't focus. His mind was on a constant repetition from earlier in the week, eyes nearly tearing up each time he thought of his most recent lover. He couldn't even continue to be attached to him anymore because he couldn't get his brunette angel out of his mind. He felt like he had failed Andrew in that sense; disrespected him in the cruelest of ways, and he couldn't take it back.

Everyone at the office could see that he was distraught, but they chalked it off to the fact that he and Betts had been immersing themselves in this case and rarely gave themselves a break. The captain was almost on the verge of telling them to take a few days off before he realized that it was around the time where, if this copycat killer was on some sort of pattern schedule, they should be expecting another victim soon.

That was what broke Captain Walker's - and everyone else's - hearts the most; the fact that they knew there would be other victims, but, with no leads, and no suspects other than a missing Andrew Mrotek, there was nothing they could do to stop it. For the time being, as much as they all hated to admit it, people would continue to die until they were able to find some solid evidence and put someone away.

But when would they catch their break?

* * *

By the time it rolled around, Captain Walker gave Brendon and Betts the weekend off, telling them to get some rest and that he'd call them if he needed them. The two men took the order with no disagreements, and on Friday night when the offices closed, they went home and didn't intend on coming back until Tuesday morning. Betts gave Brendon his usual 'Be safe' farewell before they went their separate ways, leaving in opposite directions to their homes, where Betts had a wife and Brendon only had a taunting memory of a recent lover.

As soon as Brendon made it into the safety of his apartment, he allowed himself to cry, just like he did each night he had come home this week. He hated crying, not only because he rarely felt remorse, but because he knew that when he was crying it was because the lovers he had inside of him were sad as well. He didn't want them to be sad, he wanted them to be happy. There were often times where he questioned if he wasn't doing enough to make them happy, and that in itself could kill him. He'd ripped them away from a troubled world; giving them solace and safety inside of him and helping them so they'd never be alone again.

Just in the way they helped him.

Brendon wasn't sure how long he stayed on the floor of his front hall crying, but he assumed it must've been well past midnight when he arose from his knees considering the busy sounds of the street had quietened down significantly. He took this moment to rid his face of the tear tracks and take his mourning down to the basement where he knew he had a job to do, and it couldn't wait any longer.

He removed his suit jacket, once again throwing it haphazardly onto a chair by his work table before rolling up his sleeves and taking a glance around his basement. It still smelled like Andrew, and that made tears rise to his eyes again, but he quickly shook them away as he reminded himself that now was not the time. He's been preparing Andrew's remains the remainder of the week, and now they were sitting in the kiln by the work desk table, hopefully now completely cooled off and ready to be dispensed.

He pulled on his heat gloves and opened the kiln, letting himself smile at how beautiful Andrew's bones looked; clean of all flesh and smooth from one end to the other. He pulled the tray of bones from the rack, his smile growing even wider at how happy he was with himself that he'd done a marvelous job at cleaning and preserving his lover so intricately. "You deserve this, my love," he whispered softly, smile fading into a mournful frown. "I have betrayed you; and unforgivably so."

Brendon decided the only way to make it up to him at this point was to treat him better than the others - though he treated them all with the best care that he could. He took Andrew's remains and, instead of placing them in a large, black bag, he put them in a bag that was whiter than pure snow in hopes of giving him a sense of peace. He then walked over to a large wicker closet, pulling out an outfit that consisted of black jeans, a black t-shirt and black gloves; the perfect way to keep him hidden in the shadows.

After adorning himself in the all black clothing, Brendon grabbed the white bag and gently placed Andrew inside of it, taking great care in situating him. He placed his skull in last, taking a moment to marvel at his structure and allowing tears to flood his eyes once me. He smiled a deep, heartbroken smile at the skull before lying it in the bag with the rest of the remains and tying the bag gingerly. He then hoisted the bag over his shoulder and used the raised window in the basement to exit to the backyard, walking his way toward town.

Brendon kept his eyes out for any headlights or hidden patrol cars since he knew where they'd all be stationed, awaiting any suspicious activity. He was in the clear as he reached the alley beside The Snake Pit, shimmying his way along the expanse of the brick walls until he was by the back exit of the bar. He took the bag from his shoulder, setting it carefully on the ground and kneeling beside it slowly. He hesitantly raised a gloved hand and placed it on top of the bag, letting a stray tear escape his eye before pulling out a black marker from his pocket and writing two words on the plastic.

'I'm sorry.'

* * *

Brendon returned to his apartment somewhere around two in the morning only to turn around and go right back to the bar upon realizing that he was out of alcohol in his home. He knew he should be sleeping, getting rest like Captain Walker suggested him, but his need to drink away his demons from this night was much stronger than his fatigue. He changed out of his black clothes and into a pair of regular light-washed denim jeans and a white dress shirt with a black vest over. He figured if he was going to a bar, he might as well look good. He also grabbed his two-way radio, hooking it to the holster on the side of his jeans before grabbing his keys and leaving his apartment.

The drive to the bar was silent and peaceful, and pulling outside the bar was just the same, meaning no one had discovered the remains yet. Brendon sighed softly, killing the engine of his car before exiting and walking into the bar with a neutral exterior. The only person to greet him was the bartender, who knew everyone in this town regardless of whether or not they knew her. As soon as she saw him, she smiled widely and motioned him over while filling a glass of amber liquid for him. "Rough morning already, Brendon?"

He smiled and shook his head softly, plopping himself in the bar stool and taking the glass graciously. "Rough couple of months, Sarah," he said seriously, bringing the glass to his lips and taking a swig of the burning alcohol.

Sarah nodded softly and sat the bottle next to Brendon with a gentle smile. "I hear ya," she said sadly before motioning to the bottle. "Just take it easy, and give me your keys if you have another glass."

Brendon nodded thankfully, watching as she walked away to tend to another customer. She was one of the nicest people in town, always looking out for everyone - including Brendon. He turned around in his stool, looking out around the bar to see how many townspeople had come out tonight. He saw a few familiar faces, but one in particular caught his eyes as he continued scanning the room. The brown waves were unmistakable, and the bruises that were still decorating his arms and hands were a dead giveaway that he was Brendon's angel. He was carrying a tray of drinks and laughing with some customers, which made Brendon's heart melt. His smile was wide and beautiful, showing off a row of perfectly aligned teeth encircled by those beautiful lips that Brendon couldn't stop thinking about.

"See something you like?"

His head whipped over to where Sarah was standing next to him on the other side of the bar, knowing smile on her face as she cleaned a glass. Brendon felt his face heat up as he nodded softly, motioning toward his angel before taking another drink of his whiskey. "He was in a scuffle earlier this week," he said softly. "We were called to investigate because a guy tried to rape him and wound up dead."

Sarah laughed and shook her head. "You've never had a filter on anything you've said," she told him with a hint of an uncomfortable tone in her voice. "But yes," she continued, "he told us about that. He hasn't been here very long and he's already had a super tough time here."

Brendon nodded knowingly, taking another sip of his whiskey before speaking again. "I haven't stopped thinking about him since then."

Sarah then laughed disbelievingly before walking out from around the bar and over to his angel, taking the serving tray from him and motioning over to the bar - right where Brendon was seated. Brendon whipped his head away quickly as to not catch the man's eye, and focused himself on drinking his whiskey before the sound of footsteps approached him, followed by the squeak of a bar stool. Brendon dared to look up at that moment, meeting the brown eyes that he'd been dreaming of and feeling the air completely leave his lungs.

"Coming to check on me, Detective Urie?"

Those words were enough to accelerate Brendon's heart rate, and he instantly felt his hands clam up before he looked over the smirking face of his angel and smiled back at him. "Just have to make sure you're safe," he spoke softly, a surge of confidence coming from nowhere. "Art can only be damaged once and it be passed off as a minor offense. After that, it's a felony."

Ryan's face flushed softly as he laughed at Brendon's compliment, and Brendon felt his heart soar. Ryan faced him once more, his bottom lip between his teeth as he tried to contain his smile before striking up a conversation. The two men talked about everything and nothing, a lot of the conversation going back to Ryan constantly thanking Brendon for coming to his and Ashley's rescue about his sexual assault. Brendon could feel himself slowly going crazy from being this close to his angel and not being able to touch him, but he knew there were boundaries at this moment.

He can't start slacking now.

In the middle of something Ryan was saying, a loud scream was heard from the back of the bar and Brendon immediately knew why. He leapt from his stool and hurried toward the back of the bar along with a few others to find the back exit open and noticed one of the barmaids standing in the alley with a hand covering her mouth.

Brendon looked toward the crowd of people standing toward the exit and told them to step aside before walking out and looking where the barmaid was staring. She had opened the bag, revealing a skull and what appeared to be a femur and a humerus, obviously of a human.

The barmaid looked toward Brendon with wide eyes and shaking hands as she started to speak. "I'm sorry, Officer Urie," she began, her voice trembling. "I c-came out to take out the garbage and I saw this bag and thought it was also garbage, a-and then I saw the writing on it and I-I opened it. I'm s-sorry.."

Brendon cut her off, gently placing a hand on her shoulder and leading her toward the door. "It's alright, Hayley," he said softly, taking her inside. "Go back inside with the rest of them. Tell Sarah to send you home if you need it."

Hayley nodded vigorously, hurrying past Brendon inside the main area as Brendon sighed and pulled his two-way radio from its holster and pressing the 'page' button. "This is Detective Brendon Urie, requesting immediate police unit and coroner assistance to 1894 West Avenue. We've got another one."