It had been a fire, of course it had.
Brendon hadn't known enough at the time, hadn't heard enough stories to appreciate how little imagination the evil bastards had spent on them. All he'd known was that, in the blink of an eye, he'd lost three bandmates. Jon and Ryan to the actual fire; Spencer to distance and guilt and pain.
Brendon remembered Ryan's funeral, Spencer's face whiter than the bandages around his throat as Pete hugged him. Pete had been well on his way to getting smashed, muttering drunkenly about Ryan always looking over Spencer's shoulder.
How could Brendon have guessed he'd meant it literally?
WIP Amnesty! 3k of premise & not!fic ending.
- Part 1 of WIP Amnesty