Fic: Double Double, Toil and Trouble (AU, WIP, 4/?)

[lexalicious70]

Double Double, Toil and Trouble
Authors: lexalicious70 and dreamwvr73
Characters: Sam Lowell (Cougars Inc) and Quentin Smith (A Nightmare on Elm Street).
Genre: AU, crossover
Rating: PG-13 (this chapter)
Word Count: 3,378 (this chapter).
Warnings: Triggers for psychological disturbance, drug abuse, and discussions of suicide.
Spoilers: For both movies listed.
Summary: Quentin Smith is a young man going to college at Gotham University, but the physical and emotional scars of a traumatic event that he cannot remember haunt him both day and night until one day, his father reveals that Quentin has a twin brother who he never knew existed. His twin, Sam Lowell, has been all over the world with their famous model mother, and once he returns and discovers the real reason Quentin can't remember that night, he sets out to help Quentin both recover and discover the secrets behind the deaths of his friends back in Springwood while both boys discover the trials and tribulations of having a twin brother.
A/N: We do not own any of these characters; they are owned by their respective creators and copyright holders. This is just for fun. Our versions of Sam and Quentin were created through roleplay, and a good deal of that is reflected in the narrative. Feedback is much appreciated! This fic is unlike anything I've ever been a part of before, so I hope you enjoy it. Sam and Quentin are near and dear to my heart, and I must thank my amazing writing partner/bff/soul mate/twin dreamwvr73 for creating this version of Sam, and the amazing and gifted Kyle Gallner for the life he breathes into these characters and for the inspiration that he gives me each and every day.

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

Chapter Three.



Quentin sat down on the other side and reached for his evening meds before remembering they weren't there. He sipped from the glass of water he kept there, mostly out of habit and ritual, and then laid down flat on his back, his hands resting on his chest, his eyes open.
"Maybe. I just don't---I mean, with the way I'm all hacked up . . ."

“You’re not hacked up.” Sam’s gazed locked on the ceiling, and he watched the shadows from the city outside dance along it. “I know that’s probably not what you’ve been told but it’s the truth.”

"What would you call the slashes on my chest? Beauty marks?" A siren sounded somewhere outside in the distance, and it echoed in a memory that didn't seem real . . . a swirling red light, the bitter taste of plastic, and Nancy telling him it was over. But what? What was over? What happened?

"You...cut yourself shaving?" Sam said with a grin; as Quentin fell silent he turned to see his twin with a distant looked and rolled onto his elbow to peer down at him.

"Q? Are you still with me, Bro?" When he got no response he brought his hand close to Quentin's face and snapped his fingers.

"Huh?" Quentin blinked and then wiped a hand over his eyes, mildly surprised when the fingertips came away wet.

"Yeah. Sorry. Just thinking." He looked up at Sam. "Did you ever want to remember something, but you weren't even sure if it's a memory or a dream?"

"Got a concussion once from skiing and I was trying so hard to remember it. There were some nights when I'd dream about it, until finally one detail from that day clicked and it all came back to me." Sam saw Quentin’s wet fingers. "Maybe now that you're coming down from your meds it'll come back to you."

"I know my friends are dead. I know they were murdered . . . all except for Nancy. But I don't know how or why. Dad says I need to forget it all." He turned to his brother. "And I usually do . . . until I dream."

"I took part in a psyche experiment in school once, they taught me this technique to help clear your head, maybe you should try it." Sam sat up, crossing his legs Indian style.

"You close your eyes and you just think of a calm place. You let your mind just wander there, and as you start to relax, you might relax enough to let something come back to you." Sam closed his eyes, moving his neck in a slow circle.

Quentin watched, unable to not smile a bit. "Shouldn't you be chanting 'oommmm, oommm,' too?"

"You're right..." Sam took in a deep breath. "Ohmmmm bite me!"

Quentin laughed and sat up, tucking his legs in. "Okay, okay." He closed his eyes and started to roll his head in slow circles.

Opening one eye, Sam saw his twin sitting directly across from him and he cocked his eyebrow.
"You know, this is like an episode of The Twilight Zone.".

"Yeah? How come?" Quentin opened his eyes a little.

He motioned to himself then to his twin. "Think about it, Ranger Danger!"

"I guess we would look like weird 3D images of each other to anyone watching," Quentin nodded. He closed his eyes again for a moment. He felt his body relax, and then, as from a room far away, faint strains of music invaded his memory, like water trickling in.

Dreeeaaam, dream dream dream . . . when I need you, in the night when I need you . . .

Blood on a clean white floor, shelving dotted red. "You're hurt . . ."

"Nancy." Quentin said aloud, although his eyes remained closed.

"Nancy?" Sam asked. "That's the girl that survived, right?"

"Nancy." Quentin said again, and then his memory flickered again . . . a scrap of cloth, red and greenish-black, clutched tightly in Nancy's hand. "His sweater."

"You really cared about her, didn't you?" Sam unfolded his legs then plopped down on the bed giving a sigh.

The movement of the bed jolted Quentin from his memory and his eyes snapped open. It took a moment for Sam's statement to filter through and he nodded.

"Yeah. I did." He stretched out his legs and laid down. "She took our friends' deaths really hard. She . . . she couldn't handle it."

"So the crispy fried freak didn't kill her?" Sam sighed and tucked his hands under his head. "She killed herself?"

"She couldn't handle it." Quentin repeated. "No matter how much I tried to---to be what she needed, she just couldn't." Quentin sighed. "She slit her wrists."

"Oh man, I always thought it took a lot of desperation to do that." Sam unconsciously rubbed his inner wrists.

"She was desperate. Desperate to get away from everything. Maybe I was an idiot to think that I was enough to make her stay."

"Maybe the problem is that you were too much of a reminder. A walking, talking, breathing sandwich board of what that guy did to you and your friends."

"That guy." Quentin looked up at his brother. "Dad says we made him up. That he never existed. But Sam . . ." His mouth worked briefly. "I remember, I swear I do . . ."

"I saw him too, the night you got your scars." Sam touched the area of his own bare chest.

"Felt myself bleeding with no blood, felt myself grow weak." He rubbed his nose a moment. "And I had no idea oxygen masks were that annoying!"

Quentin turned fully to Sam, rolling over on his side. "Then . . . you believe me?"

"I know we barely met and we don't know each other, but..." He stopped a moment.

"This is going to sound like some bad chick flick, but it’s like everything I never understood or liked about myself, I get it now." Sam said softly, choosing not to look at his twin. If there was a moment rejection suddenly mattered to Sam, it was now.
Quentin shifted forward and threw his arms around Sam, hugging him tight against him.

"Thank you. Oh God, thank you, Sam."

"Oh shit!" Sam wheezed as his twin squeezed him hard. "I...take it....you're...happy?"

"Everything you said . . . I feel it, too!" Quentin said, his voice thick with tears. "And no one's ever believed me before . . . about . . . about Freddy." He spoke the name for the first time in months.

"I felt like something was missing," Sam said as he hugged his brother. "I tried to replace something I didn't know was gone."

Quentin put a hand on his brother's head but didn't release his hold on him.

"There was something missing in me, too. Dad always told me it was because I didn't try hard enough to fit in."

"And here I was across the ocean fitting in way too well." Sam laughed. "It's like we're both complete opposites, and between you and me Bro, dad isn't really happy with me because of it. I tried to tell him--" Sam stopped as he remembered that Quentin knew nothing of the phone call he had with their dad.

"Tell him what?" Quentin let go of him and scooted back so he could see his twin's face.
He sighed his hand went to the back of his neck and rubbed it. "I talked to dad, told him that you had more drugs then a rock star, without the perks of course."

"You're kidding. Was he mad?"

"Oh it was the typical parental reaction to me." He straightened his spine and brought his hands up to make air quotes.

"You've got a smart mouth young man! You don't know what you're talking about. Don't you talk to Quentin about this!"

"Well obviously, you're not intending to listen." Quentin looked away for a moment.
"Sam . . . why would my own dad drug me?"

"Whenever you want to know the answer to a question, Brother, think of who would benefit the most, like this." Sam kept his hands up to make more quotes in the air. "Who would benefit most by keeping my son quiet, subdued, keeping him from remembering the truth?"

Quentin's brow furrowed in thought. "The person who had the biggest secret and the most to lose if it was found out."

"Dad would have a lot to lose. After what happened to you and then what happened to Kentucky Fried Child Killer...he'd be the one screwed big time."

"I don't remember what happened to him. I used to know, but I don't anymore!" A headache began to throb in Quentin's temples and he closed his eyes. "Sam please, I need my sleeping pill."

"No you don’t, Quentin, just relax." Sam helped his twin get comfortable. "Now, take a few deep breaths and blow the air out slowly."

"I don't need to breathe, I need my meds!" Quentin felt sweat begin to form on his forehead.

Sam reached out and touched his forehead and smoothed his hair back. "Just trust me, please?"

Quentin closed his eyes and shifted forward just enough to rest his head in the crook of Sam's other arm as he took a few deep breaths. Nausea churned in his stomach.
Glancing down, Sam reached out with his hand and stroked Quentin's hair.

"You're in a big lake, swimming casually in the cool, crisp water. The lake is in a beautiful forest, nothing for miles and you're calm and happy."

The gentle touch to his hair was one that Quentin could never recall getting from his father, even when he was little, and it soothed the pulsing in his temples. "Like to swim." He murmured with a sigh. "S'nice, Sam."

"Everything is just going away in the cool water." Sam continued to run his fingers through Quentin's hair.

Sam's voice, nearly a mirror of his own, followed Quentin down into his subconscious as his mind shut down for sleep.

Don't let him find me.

"That's it, you're settling down." He said softly.

Quentin slipped down into sleep, into cool water instead of hot, pluming smoke and the smell of pines instead of burnt flesh and blood. As his breathing settled and steadied, his right hand curled around Sam's wrist.

"I'm here little brother, you’re safe, remember that." Sam whispered.

Quentin's hand tightened briefly around Sam's wrist before the muscles went slack with a deeper sleep, and after that, the only sound in the room was his even breathing.

"Thank God." Sam whispered as he relaxed back against the mattress. He yawned, rubbed his hands over his face, and rolled onto his side, a moment later he too fell asleep.

*********************************************************

Sam sighed softly as he rolled over; his chest bumped into Quentin's right shoulder and his arm slung over and tightened around the slim waist of his twin instinctively.

"Sorry Sweetheart." He mumbled as he snuggled against Quentin.

"Hnnuh?" Quentin's eyes fluttered open and he raised his head, his curls sticking out wildly, as they did every morning.

"Je suis désolé, Cherie." Sam repeated in French.

"What the hell . . ." Quentin squirmed, trying to roll over, and Sam's arm tightened around him. He reached behind him and slapped at Sam's arm.

"Sam! Wake up!"

The smacks opened Sam's eyes and his brow creased as he looked around, the disorientation of sleep not allowing him to recognize the room. He turned to see Quentin and it all came back to him.

"Oh thank God!" Sam rubbed his hand over his eyes. "Thought I was back in Europe!"

"You're in Gotham, and you're spooning me!" Quentin squirmed. "Get off!"

"Well you're just so squeezably soft and cuddly!" Sam laughed as he sat up slowly and yawned.
"What time is it?"

Quentin slapped at his brother's hands. "It's eight." He swung his legs out of bed and pushed a hand through his hair. "You want some cereal or something?"

"Cereal?" Sam stood up. "I'd rather get some coffee."

"Coffee is already brewing." Quentin stood up and tugged at the hem of his tee. "I've got it on a timer." He turned to look at Sam. "Did I sleepwalk?"

"You didn’t move all night, and at one point, I stuck a mirror up your ass to make sure you were still alive." He opened the bedroom door and left it open as he went next door to his room.

Quentin stood there for a moment, blinking. "That's not how that works!" He shouted.

"It's not?" Sam grinned as he came back in the room wearing black jeans. He had a white t-shirt in his hands and slipped it over his head.

"You're supposed to hold the mirror up to the person's---never mind." Quentin grabbed a frayed blue robe from a nearby hook and tugged it on, tying the belt. "At least I didn't walk out the door or try and filet myself." He went into the kitchen.

"I was kidding dweebknick." Sam followed him and stopped in his tracks. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply at the brewing coffee. "Mmmmmmmmmm that smell is enough to get me up in more than one way!"

"Gross." Quentin got two mugs down from the shelf.

"Milk's on the door of the fridge," he told Sam as he went to the front door. He unlocked it and undid the chain lock before he opened it and retrieved the morning paper. He shut the door as he glanced at the headlines, obviously in no hurry to go anywhere, despite the fact that outside the window, students passed back in forth on their way to the main parts of the campus.
The students didn't go unnoticed; Sam stuck his head out of the door, seeing a small group of girls walk by.

"Ooo! Nice!"

"Sam! Shut the door!" Quentin clutched the front of his robe closed, even though it was tied shut.

"I'm taking in the view." He grinned widely at a brunette girl.

She grinned back at him over her shoulder as she passed, and then Quentin came over to slam the door shut. "Knock it off."

"Hey!" Sam tried to get around him to open the door again. "I'm scoping out the girls, fucker!"

“I’m in my robe, and I don't want the whole campus knowing where I live!" Quentin replaced the chain on the door.

"What's the big deal if people know where you live? This isn't a meth lab or a brothel..." he stopped a moment and looked at Quentin. "Is it?"

"I'm . . . I like my privacy!" Quentin poured them each a cup of coffee and sat down with the paper in what was obviously a morning ritual.

"Privacy is fine, but I don't hide, Quentin." Sam went and got his blue mug from the counter and poured himself a cup of coffee. He went to the fridge, opened the door, and grabbed the milk.

"Who's hiding?" Quentin turned to the local section of the paper.

"Um, you are Mr. Quick-close-the-doorsy!" Sam put the milk back and looked around for the sugar.

"Sugar is in the pantry." Quentin glanced up. "Look . . . how I live is how I live! When I don't go to class, I like to stay in and read the paper and surf the Web. Excuse me for not being a party animal."

"Okay, so you're telling me this now so as your roommate I know now that I'll have to strangle you in the night?" Sam set his mug down on the table and went to the pantry.

"Worse things have happened there." Quentin lifted a shoulder. "Are you going to register for any classes now that you're here?"

“I don’t know if I can for this semester, since it already started.” Sam borrowed Quentin’s spoon to stir his coffee.

"There's late registration. You could always check it out. The registration building is about a block down and to your left."

"Okay, but I'm not going alone, so go get your ass dressed." Sam said with a grin.

"I don't usually go out onto the campus during the day. It's too crowded . . . that's why all my classes are later on in the afternoon."

"Well that’s nice Buttercup, but, up and at 'em because you're going." Sam reached out and took the newspaper from his twin. "Go on..."

"Hey!" Quentin tried to snatch the paper back. "I was reading that!"

"Is your name John Merrick or something?" Sam kept the paper out of Quentin's grasp. "Go get dressed before I chase you down the hall while I'm beating your ass with this paper." Sam rolled it up and hefted it. "Ah, see, this is a good solid weight, perfect for ass whipping." He thumped the paper into the palm of his hand.

Quentin narrowed his eyes at his twin. "This is my place. You think you can bully me?"

"Nope." He thumped the newspaper again into his palm.

"Is that supposed to scare me?"
Sam said nothing but once again hit the rolled up newspaper into the palm of his hand.

Quentin got up from his chair. "You know, instead of treating me like a disobedient dog, you could just ask me to go with you. But I suppose you're so used to getting your way that it never crossed your mind." Quentin stalked down the hall toward his room.

"And you're so used to hiding you don't know any other way." Sam put the newspaper down and went to his room. He put on the jacket as he unlocked the door.

Quentin paused at the door to his room. "So that's a no on asking me nicely instead of locking me in my kennel without my Milk Bone?"

"Wouldn’t want to take you away from your coffee and paper, so I'll find my own way around. See you later." Sam glanced at his twin once, then opened the door and stepped through it.

Quentin scowled and strode down the hall. He yanked open the door in a fit of anger and shouted at Sam's retreating back. "Fine! Just . . .just go! You . . . you wannabe French . . . fucker!"

Sam turned around. "Nice use of spine, I approve." He gave his twin a thumbs-up.

Quentin showed his twin another digit that was by no means a thumb.

"Hey I tried; maybe if you hadn’t been so content to hide this would have gone better." Sam turned back around as he headed for the main door.

"What do you want from me?" Quentin asked as he turned. "You don't know . . . you don't understand!"

"Maybe I don't understand everything, but I do understand this, you're still alive." Sam said as he whipped around.

Maybe on the outside, Quentin thought to himself, and then looked up at his twin.

"Just . . . don't go. Please?" Quentin hated the plea in his tone, considering what an ass his twin had been, but seeing him walking away was worse.

"And I'm supposed to register how? If I don't do something, you know damn well dad will have a fit and make me come live at home."

Quentin raised his brows and sighed. "Wouldn't wish that on you, I guess."

Sam sighed. "So will you pretty please with condoms on top come with me to the registration?"
"Condoms?" Quentin stared at his brother for a moment and then burst into quiet laughter.

"Goddamn it . . . just hold on, let me put something on, at least!" He went back inside and back to his bedroom.

"Okay, go beautify yourself." Sam went back into the apartment.

Quentin shoved down his pajama pants and kicked them off as he grabbed a pair of underwear from his drawer. He tugged them on, fished out a pair of faded jeans from the closet, and then pulled on a long-sleeved pullover. He stepped into his over-sized Converse and then pulled a black hoodie from the closet, which he shrugged on. Not bothering with his hair, he yanked the hoodie up over his messy curls and then went back down the hall.

"Ready."

"My my, I do declare! I knew somewhere there was a lady in there!" Grinning at his twin.

"Have you always been this insufferable, or is it something you do just for me?" Quentin asked as he bent over to tighten the laces of his black Converse.

"I am who I am, this is me, 100% pure Sam." He spread his arms and did a slow spin.

Quentin tugged the sleeves of the too-big hoodie over his hands and then zipped it up.

"Warning. Contents extremely annoying." He muttered. "You ready?"

"But that’s what makes me so lovable!" Sam put his arm around Quentin's shoulders.

"Guess you got all the good qualities . . . my side of the egg must have been hollow or something." Quentin smiled a little. "Thanks for coming back."

"Hey I'm not sunny side up or anything, just accept who I am and go with it." He pointed to the door with his chin. "Shall we go freak people out?"

"Believe me, if I go out there in the middle of the day, we won't even have to try."

"Oh stop will you? So you have some slashes, big deal! Some jerks these days have them across their wrists, the only difference is those aren't self inflicted."

"What I mean is, I'm not exactly big man on campus or anything. I'm more like the Invisible Man." Quentin went to the door and opened it, pausing at the sun-lit lawns and the crowds of kids his age.

Sam watched Quentin, seeing the real anxiety on his face when he saw the kids. The first thing that came to his mind wasn't the physical marks on his chest caused by a burned man, but the internal ones caused by the man that was their father. "Maybe we really were meant to find one another wonder Twin."

The corners of Quentin's mouth twitched upward. "Wonder Twin, huh? Can I call dibs on being Zan, or will you threaten me with the newspaper again?"

"So I'm the girl, huh?" Sam lifted his head and ran a hand over his hair. "Well I am the pretty one."

Quentin snorted. "No argument there. Come on, before a line forms and we're waiting all day."
"All right." Sam adjusted his jacket a little then looked at his Quentin.

"I'm glad I came back, too." He said, but the smile that that showed his teeth, and the look in his eyes said he meant more than just that day.