(no subject)
Welcome To The World
McFly, PoynterJudd
Part: 3/4
Summary: Dougie’s life, not going smoothly.
Warnings: Language, violence. Crossover, but to tell you here would spoil the story.
A/N: Written for the mcsecretsanta challenge. For my lovely Emily ♥ She wanted AUs, crack, darkfic and adventure. Oh, yeah.
Additionally: Massive thanks to armillarysphere, for letting me bitch at her and for proofing the entire thing. Thank you also to silver_stargate for giving me pats on the head when I needed them.
part i | part ii
“You’re not concentrating, Dougie.”
Dougie looked up at Giles, standing over him looking disapproving. He was flat on his back, having been tripped for what seemed like the thousandth time that day, and there wasn’t a bone in his body that didn’t ache. He sighed, rolling to his knees and pushing himself back up again.
“Sorry. Not with it today.”
“I’ll be sure to have that inscribed on your gravestone.”
“Hey!” Dougie glared at him. “I’m having an off day, alright? Leave me the fuck alone.”
“If you’re going to do this properly, you can’t have off days,” Giles told him sternly. “You die on off days.”
“Look, this is a bit hard for me, alright?” Dougie said crossly. “I don’t have all them Slayer superpowers. I’m just me!”
“All the more reason for you to get this right,” Giles frowned. “You don’t have anything to fall back on.”
“You know, I liked you better when you were naked.”
Giles went bright red. “Well, that’s just-“
“Hey!” The shout cut across the room as Connor came striding in, flushed and a little breathless. “Giles, we got to go.”
“What?” Giles turned to him, face stony and businesslike. “What’s happened?”
“Something’s wrong up at the Hellmouth,” Connor said tersely. “We got a large breakout. Nasty. I have several people on it, but we need you there.”
“Give me two minutes.” Giles turned to the cabinets, started unlocking them and pulling out weapons. “Dougie, go home.”
“You don’t want me with you?” and Dougie couldn’t tell if he was relieved or disappointed.
“You’re not ready. Can you call a cab? Number’s on the fridge. Lock up the house before you leave.”
“Is that safe?” Connor shouldered a crossbow Giles handed him. “They’re not our people.”
Giles looked doubtful, and Dougie shrugged. “I’ll call Tom, get him to pick me up.”
“Are you sure?” Giles hefted a large duffel bag onto his shoulder, ignoring the strange shapes and lumps sticking out of the canvas. “It’s quite a drive.”
“It’s okay, he loves me.”
~*~
“I fucking hate you.” Tom pulled up the driveway to Giles’ house and glared as Dougie got in the front passenger seat. “Have you any idea how bad the traffic on the A40 is?”
“Not really, no.”
“Well, it’s fucking awful. What are you doing up Hampstead anyway?”
“Seeing somebody,” Dougie said vaguely as Tom crossly backed the car down the drive and back onto the road again.
“Is that this same person you’ve been seeing since… you know?”
“Yeah.” Dougie dug in his pocket for his fags, and let out a hiss as Tom slapped them out of his hand. “Ow! What was that for?”
“Don’t fucking smoke in my car, you twat. And who is this guy anyway? Is he some kind of mental doctor?”
“He’s a… specialist.” Dougie stuck the pack of cigarettes back in his pocket. “It’s okay, he’s not a weirdo.”
“I just. Fuck,” Tom frowned as he reached over, setting his satnav to take them back home again. “I wish you would talk to one of us, you know? Harry said you didn’t want to.”
“Yeah, well,” Dougie muttered darkly. “Harry’s a cunt.”
“Harry’s at my house making us dinner, so you’ve got an hour… shit,” Tom swore as the satnav beeped merrily at him. “Fucking traffic. You’ve got well over an hour to think about what you want to tell us. It doesn’t have to be everything. Just…” Tom sighed, looked sideways at Dougie. “We love you, Dougs. We just want to know you’re okay.”
“I’m fine,” Dougie smiled weakly, but Tom was too busy swearing at other motorists to notice and Dougie leaned his head against the cold glass of the window and closed his eyes.
~*~
“Danny, watch the-! Danny! Danny!”
“Eh, what?” Danny looked round as Harry shoved him out the way and grabbed at the saucepan that was boiling over. “What’s wrong?”
“Your fucking head, obviously,” Harry pulled the pan away from the gas ring, turned off the flame that was spitting and flaring with the spilled water. “What did you think I was shouting at you for?”
“Oh,” Danny scratched the back of his neck. “I were thinking ‘bout summat.”
“You’re supposed to be thinking about that pasta,” Harry carefully put the pan back on the hob. “Do you think you can drain that without being distracted?”
“Probably not,” Danny grinned cheerfully. “You should have let me make the salad instead.”
“And let you use a sharp knife? No fucking chance.” Harry sat back down at the kitchen table and started chopping cucumber again. “Tom’d have a fit if he came back and found your fingers on his floor.”
Danny pulled a colander out from the cupboard and started pouring the pasta inside. “They’re very nice fingers!”
“They’re nicer when they’re still attached to your hand.”
“You can’t grow new fingers, can you?”
“No, Danny,” Harry sighed, sweeping the cucumber pieces into a large bowl.
“But you can stick them back on?”
“Sometimes. But we’re not going to test the limits of medical knowledge by letting you make the salad.”
“Can you imagine if they gave you someone else’s fingers by mistake?” Danny mused, tapping his hands along the sink as he waited for the pasta to finish draining. “Do you think I’d still remember how to play the guitar?”
“Well, obviously.” Harry started chopping tomatoes, small neat slices that he dropped into the bowl. “Your memory’s in your brain, not your fingers.”
“But them new fingers would never have played guitar before.”
“Danny?”
“Yeah, mate?”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Danny laughed, before the sound of the bell ringing made the boys look up, and Harry frowned. “Wonder who that is?”
“Tom’ll be home,” Danny dumped the pasta back in the saucepan and headed for the kitchen door. “Giovanna’s away for a few days.”
“Why would he be ringing his own bell?” Harry frowned. Danny shrugged, disappearing out the door. A moment later Harry heard the front door opening, and Danny’s delighted laugh.
“Harry! Harry, look! It’s Santa!”
“What the fuck?” Harry dropped the knife onto the table and stood up. “What are you on about?”
He was halfway to the door when he heard Danny scream.
~*~
“Thank fuck,” Tom sighed as he finally pulled the car off the motorway exit. “I thought we’d never get out of that traffic.”
“Can we stop for a few minutes?” Dougie turned from staring out the window at the other cars. “I have to pee.”
Tom nodded towards a yellow McDonald’s sign that was looming out of the darkness. “Good timing, kiddo.” He pulled into the car park, stopping near the front door of the building. “Go. I’ll park and meet you in there.”
Dougie got out of the car, reaching out to slam the door closed.
“Hey!”
Dougie poked his head back in the car. “What?”
Tom looked at him for a moment, silent. “Nothing. I’ll see you in a sec.”
When Dougie emerged from the toilet a couple of minutes later, Tom was turning away from the counter, cups of tea in his hands.
“Quick refuelling.” Tom smiled, but it was almost empty, vague. “Car, or here?”
“Car,” Dougie took one of the cups from Tom, letting the heat soak into his hands, and at the back of his mind glass walls, nowhere to hide, can’t see them coming but they can see me. “No one’ll see us there.”
Tom looked around the empty restaurant. “No one’ll see us here,” but he followed Dougie out to the car anyway.
They pushed the seats back and let the tea cool on the dashboard as Dougie tilted sideways and rested his head against Tom’s thigh. Tom reached down, gently stroking his fingers through Dougie’s hair as the boy sighed happily, closing his eyes but his body still tense against Tom.
“Dougie?” Tom whispered in the dark, watching the people inside the restaurant move around, silent at this distance, bright and warm.
“Hmmm?”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, course.”
Tom let his fingers drift across Dougie’s shoulder, down his arm towards his wrist. Closed his fingers suddenly, sharply, against Dougie’s hand, and the boy let out a yelp, sitting up hurriedly.
“You fucker!” Dougie held his hand against his chest, rubbing at it. “What did you do that for?”
“Why are you all bruised up?” Tom countered, and Dougie looked down, seeing the dark marks against his skin in the half-light. Dougie pulled his hoodie sleeves down so Tom couldn’t see them any more.
“It’s nothing.”
“Like fuck,” Tom snapped. “Tell me.”
“I can’t,” Dougie whispered, horrified. He hadn’t planned this, hadn’t wanted anyone to know. He just wanted to keep his friends safe, alive, and that meant not telling them anything, not until he was strong and smart and ready, and fuck if Connor thought that was never going to happen because Dougie wasn’t going to let any more of his friends get hurt.
“Dougs,” Tom shifted around in his seat so that he was facing the boy. “You can tell me, you know.”
“There’s nothing…”
“Is someone hurting you?” Tom’s voice was fierce, low and pissed. “Because I know you’re not telling the truth about what happened to Paul, and I swear, if anyone has laid a finger on you I will rip them to fucking shreds.”
“No one… I’m fine, Tom. Really.” At Tom’s doubtful expression, Dougie attempted a small smile. “I’m just working through some things.”
“By punching things?”
“In a way,” Dougie shrugged.
“Just. Fuck,” Tom leaned over, pulling Dougie into a tight hug, wrapping his arms around his friend. “You’re my little boy, you know?”
“You’re a fucking weirdo, Tom,” Dougie laughed into Tom’s chest.
“You promise me,” Tom said fiercely. “You promise me that if you need to, you come to one of us, okay?”
“I promise,” Dougie said, not intending to keep it for one moment.
“Good.” Tom pulled away, handed Dougie the cooled cups of tea. “Right, better get home. Anyone watching is going to think we’re a right couple of gays. Oh!” He flushed, looked sideways at Dougie. “I didn’t mean…”
Dougie laughed. “Whatever. Take us home, Tom!”
Tom started the car and pulled out of the car park, beetling down the road just under the speed limit as they flashed by cars and lights and split apart the dark.
~*~
“Why is my front door half open?” Tom frowned as he pulled through the gates, finally empty of reporters and security and back to normal. “Wasting my bloody heating bill!”
Dougie looked over at the house as a cold chill settled deep inside him. “I can’t see anyone.”
“Because you can’t see through walls, you muppet.” Tom stopped the car. “Forgetful buggers, must have left it open when they went for a smoke. Suppose I should be grateful they didn’t light up inside.”
“No one’s answering the phone,” Dougie held up his mobile and Tom gave him a puzzled look.
“Why are you ringing them? Come on, get inside.”
“Wait!” Dougie grabbed Tom’s wrist and stopped him getting out the car. “Something’s not right.”
“Yeah, those two idiots,” Tom said. “Dougie, are you alright?”
Dougie nodded, and wished suddenly that Connor was there. “I’m fine.” As he got out of the car he felt under his hoodie for the stake he’d slipped in there before leaving Giles’s house, heavy and solid against his palm. He grasped it in his hand, pulling his sleeve down to hide it from Tom and hurried after his friend.
“Oi!” Tom pushed the door open the rest of the way. “What the hell are you two up to?” There was no answer as the boys stepped into the hallway and stopped. “What the fuck…?”
The hallway was a mess, the large football table smashed and lying on its side, Christmas decorations pulled down and torn apart. Framed pictures that had been on the walls were smashed in pieces on the floor and there were smears of dark red across the tiles. Tom stared at them in horror.
“Is that blood? Oh my god, what did they do?!”
Dougie stepped closer to Tom, clutching the stake so hard his fingers were going numb. Every hair, every nerve ending in his body was standing on end, feeling like he was standing on a live wire.
“Danny!” Tom called out, moving towards the kitchen. “Danny! Harry! What did you do?!”
“Shhh!” Dougie grabbed at him. “Be quiet!”
“What…”
“Shut up!” Dougie dug his nails into Tom’s arm, silencing him. “Let me listen!”
Dougie stood still, one hand on Tom, the other clutching the stake. He could feel the night air against his skin, invading and fighting the heat from the house, sickly and crisp and wrong and somewhere, deep down inside, he felt something stirring, whispering, fizzing under his skin.
“I can hear something...” Dougie let go of Tom’s arm, stepped quietly towards the small cupboard under the stairs. “There’s something there…” He reached out a hand that he pretended wasn’t shaking, closing it around the door handle. He turned to look at Tom, standing in the hallway behind him, pale and wide-eyed, then turned back to the door, took a breath, and yanked it open.
The scream that emerged knocked Dougie back a step in fright before he recovered, eyes blinking as they adjusted to the darkness in the small space.
“Danny?” Dougie knelt down cautiously as Tom rushed forward to join him by the door. “Danny, are you okay?”
Danny stared up at them, crouched on the floor, shaking. “Dougs? Tom?” He shook his head, squeezing his eyes closed. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck.”
“Where’s Harry?” Dougie demanded, as Tom leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Danny. “Where is he?”
“He took him,” Danny said shakily, and Dougie could see that his face was cut and bruised and the front of Danny’s shirt was stained with blood. “Oh my god, he took him.”
“Who?” Dougie asked, and he felt sick. “Danny, who was it?”
Danny looked up at him, eyes wide and tearful. “It were Santa.”
~*~
“We were making dinner,” Danny said quietly, sitting at the kitchen island. Tom handed him a cup of tea, which Danny took gratefully. “Someone was at the door, and I thought it were you. But it were Santa.”
“You mean a bloke in a Santa suit?” Tom said gently, picking up a chair that had been flung to the floor and sitting down beside him.
“No, I mean, really Santa. White beard and ho ho ho, and everything. He asked me… he asked me if I’d been naughty or nice. I thought maybe he were collecting for charity or something. I called Harry, and asked Santa if he wanted to come in for a few minutes. Then he saw Harry, and he just… changed.”
“What did he do?” Dougie whispered.
“His voice got real deep,” Danny clutched the tea tighter, knuckles white. “And then the hallway were full of people. Their faces. There was something wrong with them. One of them grabbed me,” Danny swallowed, voice tight and teary. “He shoved me against a wall, and I broke one of Tom’s pictures. He was laughing in my face, punching me. And then he stopped, snatched his hand back like he’s burnt it on me or something.”
Dougie looked sharply over, and saw the glint of silver at Danny’s throat, nestled under his shirt. His crucifix.
“He said I smelled too much of holy water,” Danny sniffed. “Fucking freak, water don’t smell. He shoved me in the cupboard. I could hear them talking and Harry screaming, and then it all went quiet. And I hid.” He looked up at his friends. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what to do!”
“It’s okay,” Dougie said quietly, shaken by just how scared Danny was. Sturdy Danny, with his big hands and boxer punches and fierceness, who had won every physical fight Dougie had seen him in and who had endless tales about fights, and being in the ring, and bruises and beers afterwards. “You couldn’t have done anything.”
“They wanted you,” Danny said dully, and Tom’s face went white. “I heard them talking about you.”
“Fuck.” Dougie turned away from them, searching through his pockets for his phone. Behind him, Tom stood up.
“We need to call the police.” Tom started looking through the wreckage of his kitchen for the phone.
“Wait!” Dougie stopped him. “Wait a sec.”
“I am not waiting! Harry is gone!” Tom snapped. “Help me find the fucking phone!”
“Just give me five minutes,” Dougie pleaded. “I know what this is about, just hold on a moment.”
“You know…”Tom breathed. “Dougie, if this is some sick kind of prank…”
“It’s not!”
“Are you in some kind of trouble then? Oh my god, is that what all this has been about, you pissed someone off and now they’re coming after your friends?!”
“No! Yes.” Dougie shook his head. “Sort of.”
“For fuck’s sake, Dougie!” Tom’s voice echoed around the kitchen, loud and painful and Dougie winced. “I keep fucking telling you, grow up and take some fucking responsibility for all the shit you pull!”
“I am!” Dougie shouted back. “This is happening because I listened to you!”
“Hey!” Danny stood up. “Don’t argue! Please! This is not the time.”
“I know.” Dougie started thumbing through his mobile phone, finally finding the number he wanted and dialling it. The other end rang a few times before a rough voice answered.
“This better be important,” Connor growled, and down the line Dougie could hear the clashing of metal and faint shouts.
“It is!” Dougie said. “Is Santa evil?”
“Some of them,” Connor grunted, and Dougie heard the sound of something falling. “Why?”
“No reason,” Dougie replied quickly. “Carry on killing things.” He turned off the phone and turned to his friends. “Okay! Danny, did you hear anything else?”
“No, nothing.”
“Okay,” Dougie muttered to himself. “Okay, I can do this, I just need to think.”
“What is wrong with you?” Tom snapped. “Give me your phone!”
“No!” Dougie stuffed it in his pocket, out of reach. “This should be so easy… fuck, think!”
“Dougie…” Danny looked at him, confused. “What are you on about?”
“Wait, you’re stupid.” Dougie turned to Danny, eyes shining. “Quick, think. I need a simple answer. If you were evil and Santa, where in London would you hide?”
“What?” Tom looked at him incredulously. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”
“No, I just need a blindingly obvious answer,” Dougie smiled encouragingly at Danny. “Well?”
“I think you’re mental.”
“Dan!”
“But, I’d hide in Hamleys. Down in the basement.”
Dougie frowned. “Why there?”
“Plain sight. Lots of toys. And the basement is filled with all those stupid electronic toys that no one wants, and I’ve never seen anyone go down there.”
“Danny, you’re a genius!” Dougie beamed. “Okay, Tom?”
Tom glared at him. “What?”
“I need to go back to Hampstead.”
“But we just came from there!”
“I know,” Dougie winced. “I’m really, really sorry. But I need to get some stuff from there.”
“No,” Tom argued. “We need to call the police and rescue Harry!”
“I agree with the second part of your plan.”
“Right,” Tom stepped forward, leaning over Dougie, eyes narrowed. “I’ll take you back there. And during the journey, you are going to tell us exactly what is going on. No lies, nothing left out. Total truth.”
“Okay,” Dougie shrugged. “But you’re not going to like it.”
~*~
“You are not a fucking Slayer!”
“I said you weren’t going to like it.” Dougie folded his arms crossly. “Connor said not to tell you.”
“I can’t believe our security guard is indulging you in this ridiculous fantasy,” Tom scowled. “And to think he’s been looking after us all these years when he’s clearly a crackpot.”
“He is not!”
“I like Connor,” Danny piped up from the back seat, leaning forward to rest against the front seats. “Decent bloke. Makes a good sandwich.”
“I wasn’t asking your opinion, Danny!” Tom glared at him in the rearview mirror.
“Danny, you believe me, don’t you?” Dougie twisted in his seat so he could look at his friend, eyes pleading. “You don’t think I’m making it up?”
“I think you don’t think you’re making it up.” Danny said slowly. “Besides, there’s some funny old things in the world. Like them ghosts at those places Yvette took us to. And my nan made the priest do an exorcism on my granddad when my mam was a teenager.”
“I never knew that!”
“Well, it turned out he weren’t possessed in the first place, it were just he’d been at mum’s secret stash of special brownies.”
Dougie’s eyes opened wide. “Special…”
Danny grinned, and imitated inhaling a rollup. Tom swerved the car sideways, making the boys clutch at the seats for support.
“We’re here!” Tom pulled into Giles’s driveway. “So please, shut up about subjects I don’t want to hear about, thank you very much.”
“I used to think Tom were like my mam,” Danny whispered to Dougie as they got out the car, “But he’s nowhere near chilled out enough!”
Dougie let out a laugh, then immediately felt guilty as Tom shot him a disapproving glare, a heavy sick feeling settling in his stomach as he thought of Harry. I’ll find you, Harry, I promise.
“Okay,” Tom stared up at the huge house. “Where’s the key?”
“Oh, I haven’t got one,” Dougie said, focusing on anything but thoughts of Harry. “But I forgot to lock up when I left. There’s an open window round the back.”
“Oh, shitting hell,” Tom groaned. “I can see the headlines now. ‘Boyband caught breaking and entering, blame Santa.’”
“It’s not breaking and entering if it’s your friend!” Dougie said brightly as they rounded the house and went into the back garden.
“Yeah, well, tell that to Pete Doherty,” Tom grumbled. “Is anyone looking?”
“Probably not.” Dougie pointed to a narrow, horizontal window, set above the kitchen sink. “There we go. Danny, give me a leg up?”
Danny bent down and let Dougie climb up on his back, who then tipped himself through the high window, hands and head first into the wide sink, feet still sticking out the window.
“Fuck!” Dougie grunted. “Now fucking what?” He tried to wriggle around, get one foot out of the window frame and safely inside, but his hands slipped on the wet porcelain and his feet went shooting through the window as his entire body tipped sideways and he fell to the floor with a shriek.
“Shit!” Tom tried to see past the edge of the sink and into the dark kitchen. “Dougie, are you okay?!”
“Fine!” Dougie shot up from the floor, red-faced. “I’m fine!”
“Pity,” Tom said sourly as Dougie came round and unlocked the kitchen door. “If you’d knocked yourself unconscious then I could have called the police like I should have done and let them deal with everything.”
“No, you wouldn’t have,” Dougie led them inside. “And you know why, Tom?”
“Enlighten me.”
“Because I might be a twat, but I would never piss about with Harry’s life, and you know that, and that means you know I’m telling you the truth and all this blustering is just you hiding the fact that you’re scared shitless.”
“Who the fuck are you, Lorraine Kelly?” Tom said shakily, but he followed Dougie and Danny up the stairs and into the loft.
“Check this out,” Danny breathed, impressed. “He’s got his own gym up here!”
Dougie felt underneath one of the cabinets, searching around with his fingers until he found the key, taped to the underside of the cabinet with brown tape. “Here we go!” He opened the doors as the other boys looked on, shocked.
“Are those guns?!” Tom said shrilly.
“Paintball guns,” Danny said, enthralled. “Better than ours!”
“We came all this way for paintball guns?”
“No.” Dougie reached into the cabinet and took out a long, sharp sword, handing it to Tom. “We came for some of these.”
“What am I meant to do with this?”
“When I tell you, hit things with it.”
“Do I get one of them?” Danny said hopefully.
“No!” The twin shouts sent Danny stepping back, blinking in surprise.
“I mean…” Dougie grabbed one of the guns out. “I need you to take this. Cos you’re, like, an amazing shot.”
“I am?”
“They’re big pellets, you can’t miss.” Dougie handed Danny a bag of spares. “Don’t drop them.”
“I can’t believe,” Tom shook his head as Dougie pulled out a small bone-handled dagger, “That it was so easy to break into a bloke’s house when he’s got an entire arsenal up here.”
“Easy access for emergencies. Or something.” Dougie shoved a couple of extra stakes into his pockets and pulled out a large machete. “Tom, hold that for me. Right, let’s go.”
“So now we can break into the world’s most famous toy store.”
“No, mate,” Danny grinned. “It’s Thursday. Late night opening. We’ve still got a couple of hours before it closes.”
“Oh.” Tom said blankly. “Great.”
~*~
“I told you there was nowhere to park in London!” Tom said crossly. “My car is going to get clamped.”
“You can afford it,” Dougie waved his hand dismissively at Tom as the three boys hurried down Regent Street, dodging late-night shoppers and drunks.
“I’ve parked in the middle of Trafalgar Square!”
“So it’ll get towed.”
“I am going to end up as a cheap headline,” Tom moaned.
“Well, you’re always saying that we need more publicity,” Danny shoved the paintball gun more securely under his jacket. “People will think we’re right rebels!”
“No, they’ll think we’re attention-seeking twats.”
“Hey, there it is!” Dougie pointed a short way down the road, at a large, opulent shop window decked out in glitter and bright lights, shining out against the dark. “Tom, your sword is showing.”
“Oh, dammit,” Tom tucked the sword back under his duffel coat, where it clanked against the hidden machete. “You’re just taking advantage of the fact that I’m the only one of us with a proper coat. I am so going to get arrested for this.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Why, have you got some kind of special Slayer licence?” Tom asked as they pushed open the heavy shop doors, cold metal and glass against their palms before being enveloped in heat and light and noise.
“Of course not,” Dougie gave him a disgusted look and led the way to the back of the shop where a shining escalator led the way upwards and a dimly-lit, tattered-looking staircase led downwards into the dark. The three boys stood looking down the stairs, black and filthy.
“You know,” Dougie swallowed, “It’s not too late for you guys to go home.”
“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Tom sighed, and led the way down.
t o b e c o n t i n u e d
~*~