Haunted 1/1 (Def Leppard)
Title: Haunted
Genre: Gen
Band: Def Leppard
Main Characters: Phil Collen, Vivian Campbell
Adult Content: No
Words: 2725
Chapter: 1/1
Summary: Phil thinks Viv's acting weird. Is it stress, fatigue...or something deeper?
Teaser: But it wasn't him, it was Viv. Disappearing at all hours of the night, murmuring Gaelic in that deep voice when he thought Phil was asleep, running off after shows to make "phone calls" and turning up in rooms that only existed sometimes.
October 1st
"Viv?"
Phil peeked into a room on the left and sighed. It was late, the arena was almost empty, and he was tired. If Viv didn't piss and moan so much when Phil left without him, he would've been back in the hotel room long ago.
"You in here?"
Last room in this hallway. Too bloody late to be playing hide and seek, but here he was, just to avoid ten minutes of whining. Brilliant, Collen, truly brilliant.
Viv'd probably left by now, little bastard. Back at the hotel, relaxing in their room, ready to cock his head and ask Phil where the Hell he'd been - as if he didn't know.
Another sigh, and he turned around. The hallway seemed longer than when he started down this way, and emptier - was it even possible to get emptier than "not a single fucking person anywhere"?
And then he heard Viv's voice. Thank fucking God.
It was coming from back down the hall, how the Hell had he missed that? He was sure he'd looked in every room - but then, he hadn't looked very closely, and the hall was dark enough he could've easily missed a door or two. And of course, because he had just that kind of luck, Viv was in one of the ones he'd missed.
As he drew closer, Phil realized something was...off. Viv's voice was deeper than usual, taking on the tone he used when he was in a heated discussion. Not arguing, he didn't sound angry, but the way he sounded when he was trying to explain something he really loved to someone who just didn't get it.
Was there someone else here? How had he missed two people?
There was something extremely off here. He only heard one voice, and as he listened more closely, something hit Phil: Viv wasn't speaking English. He was no expert, but he thought he recognized a little as the Gaelic Viv claimed to barely know.
What. The. Fuck.
And then, abruptly, there was silence, and Phil was even more unsettled. He poked his head into the room he thought the voice was coming from, not sure what he expected to find.
"Viv?"
Suddenly he was being pushed backwards by a wall of Vivian, the door slamming behind them.
"Phil! What are you still doing here?"
"I - who were you talking to?"
Viv wrapped his arm around Phil's waist and walked them down the hall, a little faster than usual. "Just making a phone call. Had to weasel away from the crowds to do it."
"You were - was that Gaelic?"
Viv cocked his head. "Phil, you've heard me speak Gaelic. I - you know how I get when I'm talking too fast, sounds like gibberish. You must've misheard."
And then they were outside near the buses, and it was well-lit and there were people around. Right, talking too fast. On the phone. That made perfect sense.
Mentally chiding himself for jumping to such strange conclusions - although they'd been more questions than conclusions - Phil slid his arm around Viv's waist and pulled him a little closer as they walked to the bus.
October 8
Phil splashed cold water on his face and looked in the mirror, frowning at how gaunt he looked.
Collen, you're going insane.
But it wasn't him, it was Viv. Disappearing at all hours of the night, murmuring Gaelic in that deep voice when he thought Phil was asleep, running off after shows to make "phone calls" and turning up in rooms that only existed sometimes.
And he always, always had a good explanation. Went to the vending machines for a drink, but they didn't have what he wanted so he tried upstairs, and downstairs, and the other end of the hall - no luck. Phil was probably just hearing him talk in his sleep, jumbled fragments that sounded like Gaelic because of the accent and the fact that Phil didn't actually know Gaelic. And of course the rooms were always there, he'd laugh, Phil was just so scatterbrained he was always wandering right by without noticing.
When Phil questioned it, Viv cocked his head and his lips curved into a little smirk and then Phil felt like an idiot because Viv had to be right. The simplest explanation was usually the best, and all that.
So then - why the paranoia? Too many horror films? But when was the last time he'd even watched a horror film?
Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. Either Viv was hiding something big, or Phil was going insane.
Despite all evidence to the contrary, Phil had a very sinking feeling it was the latter.
October 11
"Viv?"
"Hm?" Viv didn't look up from his magazine, some gossip rag he'd grabbed when they stopped for gas that morning.
Maybe Phil's voice didn't sound as panicked to him as it did inside Phil's head.
"Where's - where's the door?"
"In the wall, I assume," he said, still not looking up.
"It - there's no door here, Vivian."
Viv waved his hand and muttered something under his breath.
"What?"
"I said 'of course there is, weirdo'. Turn around."
Phil spun around, expecting to see the blank wall he'd just been looking at.
The door was there. Exactly where it had been when they came in the room.
But - it hadn't, it - there had just been a wall there.
"Viv?"
"Phil."
"What - "
"Now that you've found the door, will you please use it? I'm trying to read."
October 15
Formaldehyde.
The whole room stank of formaldehyde, and...something else.
Phil kept his eyes screwed shut, in no way wanting to see why he could smell formaldehyde.
And then he heard Viv's voice again. Low and deep and intense, like that night in the arena. Whatever he was speaking, it sure as fuck wasn't English.
Phil opened his eyes at the bright flash of light, temporarily blinded by the tail end of it. As his eyes adjusted, he saw drawers. Drawers, and tiled walls, illuminated just barely by a fluorescent light. And Viv, at the other end of the room, standing near the drawers and muttering.
Viv held up his arm and a drawer shot open, Phil jumping and biting back a little yelp at the suddenness of it.
A shelf. A body bag.
A morgue. He was in a morgue. He was in a morgue with Viv and no one had touched that drawer before it opened and when he'd fallen asleep he'd been in the hotel room and what the fuck was going on?
Vivian looked up at him, eyes glinting red, muttered something...
...and Phil screamed, shooting up off the pillows, gasping for breath.
The hotel room was full of gray light, sunrise just beginning outside the window. Next to him, Viv was sleeping peacefully, cuddled up against a pillow.
Dream. It had been a dream, and the lights and noises and such were so vivid because he just had that kind of imagination. Right.
Viv shifted and yawned, blinking up at Phil.
"Bad dream?"
"I - yeah. Bad - yeah, bad dream."
October 21
Walls talked to him. With Vivian's voice, they muttered words he didn't understand in a tone that terrified him.
Doors vanished and reappeared at odd times, usually when he was looking for whoever was inside.
Everything around Phil was conspiring to drive him insane.
If he wasn't already.
Sunken cheeks and dark circles under his eyes looked back at him from the mirror. Joe told him he wasn't sleeping enough.
When he slept, he had those dreams again. Vivian in the morgue. In the cemetery. At accident scenes so gruesome Phil had to rush to the bathroom before he was even fully awake. Muttering, almost chanting, eyes flashing red whenever he inevitably noticed Phil standing there.
So, in his humble opinion, he was sleeping plenty.
Viv looked at him with concern, trying to coax him to take naps more often, making him eat more, watching him like a hawk almost constantly. Thought he was on drugs, maybe. Making sure he wasn't sneaking off to shoot up or snort or what have you.
No drugs, Viv, it's you.
Sort of.
October 26
"You should get out of the hotel," Joe kept saying. "Fresh air should do you some good," he said.
And maybe he was right. Maybe Phil was going stir-crazy, instead of, well, crazy-crazy. So when Viv shrugged on his jacket and said, "I'm going for a walk, be back soon," Phil had said, "I'll join you."
Viv had thought about it for maybe a few seconds longer than he really needed to, but Phil chalked it up to his recent paranoia when he shrugged and said fine.
The second Phil saw the flashing red and blue lights ahead of them, he decided Joe was a bleeding imbecile and leaving the hotel was the worst possible thing he could have done.
Especially when Viv tugged on his sleeve and started walking towards the accident scene. Quickly.
"Viv, what - "
"I just wanna get a closer look."
"But - "
"Looks like a good one."
What? A good - good? It looked messy, and painful, and miserable. Someone was still screaming, in pain or anguish Phil didn't know but he didn't much care for either.
Viv was rushing him towards it, an almost hungry look in his eyes, and Phil wondered for a minute what Viv would do if he started screaming.
And then Viv looked up at him, eyes glinting red, muttered something, and Phil was screaming.
In his bed. In the hotel room.
October 31
"What are you looking for?"
Viv glanced over his shoulder from where he was rummaging through his suitcase. "Jacket. Gonna go for a walk."
"Mind if I join you?"
He tilted his head, thought about it for maybe a few seconds longer than he really needed to, but shrugged and said, "Fine."
It was a gorgeous day, bright and crisp, just chilly enough to make Phil hunch his shoulders and stick a little closer to Viv. It was hard to remember what he'd been so scared of lately when the sky was a cloudless blue against the bright oranges and reds of fall foliage.
And then Phil saw the flashing red and blue lights ahead of them. And Viv tugged his sleeve and started pulling him towards the accident scene.
----------
Phil screamed and ran faster, willing his legs to push past the aches in his muscles, his chest to stop burning so he could breathe. Any minute now he'd wake up, any second, Viv would glare at him with those petrifying red eyes, say whatever it was he always said to send Phil rocketing back into bed and awake.
He bounded up the stairs and burst through the door on the landing, pinching his finger in the handle.
And screamed again.
Not because it hurt - because he felt it. This wasn't a dream. Something terrible was chasing him and he wasn't going to wake up.
Taking off down the hall with a newfound strength, his mind ticked through his options.
Go back to his room - but then he'd be trapped.
Get out of the hotel - but where would he go? No car, no time to hail a cab, no knowledge of the city.
Go find help - where? Who? What would he tell them, and would they believe him, and -
He stopped in front of a door. Joe's room. Joe would believe him. Or at the very least, Joe was a big guy and would be useful in making this fight-or-whatever-it-was two-on-one. Yes. Joe.
"Joe! Let me in! Joe, come on, open the bloody door! Joe!"
He banged violently on the door, leaning against the solid wood as he bruised his fists against it.
"For the love of God, Joe, let me the fuck - "
The door opened and he tumbled inside. The rug was rough and scraped against his nose and it still wasn't a dream.
"What the bloody Hell's wrong with you?"
"Something, I - something - it's after me!"
Joe helped him up and cocked his head. "Something's after you?"
"Yes!"
"Alright, alright. Come in, come on." Joe took his arm and pulled him over to the bed. "Sit down."
Phil sat, curling up in the middle, watching the door.
"Tea?"
"I - Joe, there's no time, it's - "
"Shh, Phil. Calm down. Why don't you lie down? You look like you could use a kip. I'll make you some tea, you just lie down and relax, and we'll - "
"Joe! There's no bloody - "
The knock at the door was the loudest thing Phil had ever heard, echoing in his head and through his body and - fuck, Joe was moving to answer it.
"Joe! Don't open the bloody - "
"Viv?"
"Is Phil here?"
No, Joe, Phil isn't here. Tell him Phil's not here, come on, please, Joe.
"Yeah, but - he's acting weird. Something happen?"
"We were at lunch, walked by a car accident, and he took off. Figured he was coming back here, but he's not in the room."
"Maybe you should make sure he gets some sleep tonight - he looks like shit."
Viv crouched down in front of Phil. "Phil?"
His eyes were blue, not red, his voice wasn't sending chills down his spine and he was speaking English. It was okay, everything was okay, he'd been hallucinating.
Phil let Viv take his arm and help him off the bed, leaned against him and let the arm around his waist guide them to the door.
Viv laid him down in the bed, frowning a little. "Joe's right, you do look like shit."
"Thanks, Miss Universe."
"I'm sorry."
"For - ?"
"This," Viv said quietly, and suddenly Phil couldn't move. Blue eyes glinted red, the muttering that had been haunting him started again - only this time he could understand it.
"It's not your time, Philip, not really, but I have to make an exception here. You've seen too much, you know too much - and if I didn't do this now you'd drive yourself insane and end up dead anyway."
Viv drew his fingertips down from the center of Phil's hairline, along the bridge of his nose, muttering once again so Phil couldn't understand him, his voice thick, so thick Phil couldn't breathe.
His heart raced, he struggled to move but the air was thick and pressed him down. Breathing got harder and harder, panic rising in his throat until he had to scream but he couldn't.
Viv's fingers rested on the tip of his nose, and then with a hard tug he was raising his hand and...something...was following his fingers.
Phil arched his back, opening his mouth to scream but nothing came out. It felt like a vacuum was attached to his nose, pulling everything from inside him, turning him inside out, ripping him apart -
And then it was over. He slumped back against the bed, gasping for breath, watching as Viv pulled a bottle from his pocket and, with a few more muttered words, deposited the...something...he'd taken from Phil.
He grinned a little and waved the bottle. "Your soul, Philip."
Phil shook his head. Viv grinned wider and walked over. "Go to sleep, Philip. Tomorrow, you'll have a nice car accident - fall asleep at the wheel. You've been so tired lately, of course. Very sad."
Against his will, Phil's eyes slid closed, Viv's voice almost soothing as it washed over him. Sleep. Right. Tomorrow this would be a dream, he'd wake up screaming and sweating, and Viv would tell him he was being silly and soothe him back to sleep.
"Very sad, indeed."
Genre: Gen
Band: Def Leppard
Main Characters: Phil Collen, Vivian Campbell
Adult Content: No
Words: 2725
Chapter: 1/1
Summary: Phil thinks Viv's acting weird. Is it stress, fatigue...or something deeper?
Teaser: But it wasn't him, it was Viv. Disappearing at all hours of the night, murmuring Gaelic in that deep voice when he thought Phil was asleep, running off after shows to make "phone calls" and turning up in rooms that only existed sometimes.
October 1st
"Viv?"
Phil peeked into a room on the left and sighed. It was late, the arena was almost empty, and he was tired. If Viv didn't piss and moan so much when Phil left without him, he would've been back in the hotel room long ago.
"You in here?"
Last room in this hallway. Too bloody late to be playing hide and seek, but here he was, just to avoid ten minutes of whining. Brilliant, Collen, truly brilliant.
Viv'd probably left by now, little bastard. Back at the hotel, relaxing in their room, ready to cock his head and ask Phil where the Hell he'd been - as if he didn't know.
Another sigh, and he turned around. The hallway seemed longer than when he started down this way, and emptier - was it even possible to get emptier than "not a single fucking person anywhere"?
And then he heard Viv's voice. Thank fucking God.
It was coming from back down the hall, how the Hell had he missed that? He was sure he'd looked in every room - but then, he hadn't looked very closely, and the hall was dark enough he could've easily missed a door or two. And of course, because he had just that kind of luck, Viv was in one of the ones he'd missed.
As he drew closer, Phil realized something was...off. Viv's voice was deeper than usual, taking on the tone he used when he was in a heated discussion. Not arguing, he didn't sound angry, but the way he sounded when he was trying to explain something he really loved to someone who just didn't get it.
Was there someone else here? How had he missed two people?
There was something extremely off here. He only heard one voice, and as he listened more closely, something hit Phil: Viv wasn't speaking English. He was no expert, but he thought he recognized a little as the Gaelic Viv claimed to barely know.
What. The. Fuck.
And then, abruptly, there was silence, and Phil was even more unsettled. He poked his head into the room he thought the voice was coming from, not sure what he expected to find.
"Viv?"
Suddenly he was being pushed backwards by a wall of Vivian, the door slamming behind them.
"Phil! What are you still doing here?"
"I - who were you talking to?"
Viv wrapped his arm around Phil's waist and walked them down the hall, a little faster than usual. "Just making a phone call. Had to weasel away from the crowds to do it."
"You were - was that Gaelic?"
Viv cocked his head. "Phil, you've heard me speak Gaelic. I - you know how I get when I'm talking too fast, sounds like gibberish. You must've misheard."
And then they were outside near the buses, and it was well-lit and there were people around. Right, talking too fast. On the phone. That made perfect sense.
Mentally chiding himself for jumping to such strange conclusions - although they'd been more questions than conclusions - Phil slid his arm around Viv's waist and pulled him a little closer as they walked to the bus.
October 8
Phil splashed cold water on his face and looked in the mirror, frowning at how gaunt he looked.
Collen, you're going insane.
But it wasn't him, it was Viv. Disappearing at all hours of the night, murmuring Gaelic in that deep voice when he thought Phil was asleep, running off after shows to make "phone calls" and turning up in rooms that only existed sometimes.
And he always, always had a good explanation. Went to the vending machines for a drink, but they didn't have what he wanted so he tried upstairs, and downstairs, and the other end of the hall - no luck. Phil was probably just hearing him talk in his sleep, jumbled fragments that sounded like Gaelic because of the accent and the fact that Phil didn't actually know Gaelic. And of course the rooms were always there, he'd laugh, Phil was just so scatterbrained he was always wandering right by without noticing.
When Phil questioned it, Viv cocked his head and his lips curved into a little smirk and then Phil felt like an idiot because Viv had to be right. The simplest explanation was usually the best, and all that.
So then - why the paranoia? Too many horror films? But when was the last time he'd even watched a horror film?
Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. Either Viv was hiding something big, or Phil was going insane.
Despite all evidence to the contrary, Phil had a very sinking feeling it was the latter.
October 11
"Viv?"
"Hm?" Viv didn't look up from his magazine, some gossip rag he'd grabbed when they stopped for gas that morning.
Maybe Phil's voice didn't sound as panicked to him as it did inside Phil's head.
"Where's - where's the door?"
"In the wall, I assume," he said, still not looking up.
"It - there's no door here, Vivian."
Viv waved his hand and muttered something under his breath.
"What?"
"I said 'of course there is, weirdo'. Turn around."
Phil spun around, expecting to see the blank wall he'd just been looking at.
The door was there. Exactly where it had been when they came in the room.
But - it hadn't, it - there had just been a wall there.
"Viv?"
"Phil."
"What - "
"Now that you've found the door, will you please use it? I'm trying to read."
October 15
Formaldehyde.
The whole room stank of formaldehyde, and...something else.
Phil kept his eyes screwed shut, in no way wanting to see why he could smell formaldehyde.
And then he heard Viv's voice again. Low and deep and intense, like that night in the arena. Whatever he was speaking, it sure as fuck wasn't English.
Phil opened his eyes at the bright flash of light, temporarily blinded by the tail end of it. As his eyes adjusted, he saw drawers. Drawers, and tiled walls, illuminated just barely by a fluorescent light. And Viv, at the other end of the room, standing near the drawers and muttering.
Viv held up his arm and a drawer shot open, Phil jumping and biting back a little yelp at the suddenness of it.
A shelf. A body bag.
A morgue. He was in a morgue. He was in a morgue with Viv and no one had touched that drawer before it opened and when he'd fallen asleep he'd been in the hotel room and what the fuck was going on?
Vivian looked up at him, eyes glinting red, muttered something...
...and Phil screamed, shooting up off the pillows, gasping for breath.
The hotel room was full of gray light, sunrise just beginning outside the window. Next to him, Viv was sleeping peacefully, cuddled up against a pillow.
Dream. It had been a dream, and the lights and noises and such were so vivid because he just had that kind of imagination. Right.
Viv shifted and yawned, blinking up at Phil.
"Bad dream?"
"I - yeah. Bad - yeah, bad dream."
October 21
Walls talked to him. With Vivian's voice, they muttered words he didn't understand in a tone that terrified him.
Doors vanished and reappeared at odd times, usually when he was looking for whoever was inside.
Everything around Phil was conspiring to drive him insane.
If he wasn't already.
Sunken cheeks and dark circles under his eyes looked back at him from the mirror. Joe told him he wasn't sleeping enough.
When he slept, he had those dreams again. Vivian in the morgue. In the cemetery. At accident scenes so gruesome Phil had to rush to the bathroom before he was even fully awake. Muttering, almost chanting, eyes flashing red whenever he inevitably noticed Phil standing there.
So, in his humble opinion, he was sleeping plenty.
Viv looked at him with concern, trying to coax him to take naps more often, making him eat more, watching him like a hawk almost constantly. Thought he was on drugs, maybe. Making sure he wasn't sneaking off to shoot up or snort or what have you.
No drugs, Viv, it's you.
Sort of.
October 26
"You should get out of the hotel," Joe kept saying. "Fresh air should do you some good," he said.
And maybe he was right. Maybe Phil was going stir-crazy, instead of, well, crazy-crazy. So when Viv shrugged on his jacket and said, "I'm going for a walk, be back soon," Phil had said, "I'll join you."
Viv had thought about it for maybe a few seconds longer than he really needed to, but Phil chalked it up to his recent paranoia when he shrugged and said fine.
The second Phil saw the flashing red and blue lights ahead of them, he decided Joe was a bleeding imbecile and leaving the hotel was the worst possible thing he could have done.
Especially when Viv tugged on his sleeve and started walking towards the accident scene. Quickly.
"Viv, what - "
"I just wanna get a closer look."
"But - "
"Looks like a good one."
What? A good - good? It looked messy, and painful, and miserable. Someone was still screaming, in pain or anguish Phil didn't know but he didn't much care for either.
Viv was rushing him towards it, an almost hungry look in his eyes, and Phil wondered for a minute what Viv would do if he started screaming.
And then Viv looked up at him, eyes glinting red, muttered something, and Phil was screaming.
In his bed. In the hotel room.
October 31
"What are you looking for?"
Viv glanced over his shoulder from where he was rummaging through his suitcase. "Jacket. Gonna go for a walk."
"Mind if I join you?"
He tilted his head, thought about it for maybe a few seconds longer than he really needed to, but shrugged and said, "Fine."
It was a gorgeous day, bright and crisp, just chilly enough to make Phil hunch his shoulders and stick a little closer to Viv. It was hard to remember what he'd been so scared of lately when the sky was a cloudless blue against the bright oranges and reds of fall foliage.
And then Phil saw the flashing red and blue lights ahead of them. And Viv tugged his sleeve and started pulling him towards the accident scene.
----------
Phil screamed and ran faster, willing his legs to push past the aches in his muscles, his chest to stop burning so he could breathe. Any minute now he'd wake up, any second, Viv would glare at him with those petrifying red eyes, say whatever it was he always said to send Phil rocketing back into bed and awake.
He bounded up the stairs and burst through the door on the landing, pinching his finger in the handle.
And screamed again.
Not because it hurt - because he felt it. This wasn't a dream. Something terrible was chasing him and he wasn't going to wake up.
Taking off down the hall with a newfound strength, his mind ticked through his options.
Go back to his room - but then he'd be trapped.
Get out of the hotel - but where would he go? No car, no time to hail a cab, no knowledge of the city.
Go find help - where? Who? What would he tell them, and would they believe him, and -
He stopped in front of a door. Joe's room. Joe would believe him. Or at the very least, Joe was a big guy and would be useful in making this fight-or-whatever-it-was two-on-one. Yes. Joe.
"Joe! Let me in! Joe, come on, open the bloody door! Joe!"
He banged violently on the door, leaning against the solid wood as he bruised his fists against it.
"For the love of God, Joe, let me the fuck - "
The door opened and he tumbled inside. The rug was rough and scraped against his nose and it still wasn't a dream.
"What the bloody Hell's wrong with you?"
"Something, I - something - it's after me!"
Joe helped him up and cocked his head. "Something's after you?"
"Yes!"
"Alright, alright. Come in, come on." Joe took his arm and pulled him over to the bed. "Sit down."
Phil sat, curling up in the middle, watching the door.
"Tea?"
"I - Joe, there's no time, it's - "
"Shh, Phil. Calm down. Why don't you lie down? You look like you could use a kip. I'll make you some tea, you just lie down and relax, and we'll - "
"Joe! There's no bloody - "
The knock at the door was the loudest thing Phil had ever heard, echoing in his head and through his body and - fuck, Joe was moving to answer it.
"Joe! Don't open the bloody - "
"Viv?"
"Is Phil here?"
No, Joe, Phil isn't here. Tell him Phil's not here, come on, please, Joe.
"Yeah, but - he's acting weird. Something happen?"
"We were at lunch, walked by a car accident, and he took off. Figured he was coming back here, but he's not in the room."
"Maybe you should make sure he gets some sleep tonight - he looks like shit."
Viv crouched down in front of Phil. "Phil?"
His eyes were blue, not red, his voice wasn't sending chills down his spine and he was speaking English. It was okay, everything was okay, he'd been hallucinating.
Phil let Viv take his arm and help him off the bed, leaned against him and let the arm around his waist guide them to the door.
Viv laid him down in the bed, frowning a little. "Joe's right, you do look like shit."
"Thanks, Miss Universe."
"I'm sorry."
"For - ?"
"This," Viv said quietly, and suddenly Phil couldn't move. Blue eyes glinted red, the muttering that had been haunting him started again - only this time he could understand it.
"It's not your time, Philip, not really, but I have to make an exception here. You've seen too much, you know too much - and if I didn't do this now you'd drive yourself insane and end up dead anyway."
Viv drew his fingertips down from the center of Phil's hairline, along the bridge of his nose, muttering once again so Phil couldn't understand him, his voice thick, so thick Phil couldn't breathe.
His heart raced, he struggled to move but the air was thick and pressed him down. Breathing got harder and harder, panic rising in his throat until he had to scream but he couldn't.
Viv's fingers rested on the tip of his nose, and then with a hard tug he was raising his hand and...something...was following his fingers.
Phil arched his back, opening his mouth to scream but nothing came out. It felt like a vacuum was attached to his nose, pulling everything from inside him, turning him inside out, ripping him apart -
And then it was over. He slumped back against the bed, gasping for breath, watching as Viv pulled a bottle from his pocket and, with a few more muttered words, deposited the...something...he'd taken from Phil.
He grinned a little and waved the bottle. "Your soul, Philip."
Phil shook his head. Viv grinned wider and walked over. "Go to sleep, Philip. Tomorrow, you'll have a nice car accident - fall asleep at the wheel. You've been so tired lately, of course. Very sad."
Against his will, Phil's eyes slid closed, Viv's voice almost soothing as it washed over him. Sleep. Right. Tomorrow this would be a dream, he'd wake up screaming and sweating, and Viv would tell him he was being silly and soothe him back to sleep.
"Very sad, indeed."