Spike wasn't technically 'on duty', but when he saw the boy, the body, and a lot of blood, he knew he had to investigate.
"Well, well. What have we 'ere?" he said calmly as he approached, not wanting to startle the bloke. He was mortal now, after all, and there'd been some killing going on. He didn't want to be the next one, thanks. He was fond of breathing, now that he was doing it again.
The coppery smell of blood was familiar, almost comforting, but there were going to be an awful lot of questions asked about the body, he knew.
That sound. That sound, he realized, was his own. He choked it off, like closing a door, and it gurgled wetly in the back of his throat, and for a moment he thought he might suffocate. The blood, it's rushing, pounding, throbbing behind his eyes, so loud... so loud, blending with the crash of the waves, rising to a crescendo, and then it all drops away because there is a voice.
He tried to scuttle backward, but he couldn't let go. He couldn't let go of the boy in his arms so he sat there heavily in the sand and wondered if he waited long enough if he might disappear. Become something else entirely.
Then he looked up and for a moment he was completely taken by the bright white of the man's hair. The sharpness of his features. But it was all gone in a moment, and he bared his teeth, an intinct he didn't know he had.
"Stay away. Stay away from me," he said, utterly embarrassed by how small his voice sounded.
"Fraid I can't do that, mate." Spike crouched, reaching for the body. It was dead, no question. With a tear like that on the throat, with all of the blood...
"You new here?" he asked softly, looking at the boy. He was beginning to think he might know what was going on here. "Just showed up from wherever you were, yeah?"
"Don't touch him!" Nothing gasped, drawing the frail body to his chest like a reflex, Laine's head rolling loosely on his shoulders. There was so much blood, it soaked into Nothing's clothes, bleeding out into the sand, the loose tear of shredded flesh at his neck raw and exposed. Stark red against waxy, colorless skin.
He didn't answer, but it was clear enough in his eyes. Panic and fear and hopelessness. Nothing was many things all at once but sometimes he was nothing but a child.
Taking life was never anything to be ashamed about, but Brian kept that thought to himself as he crouched down near the new arrival and his victim. The boy wasn't too young, but he was obviously inexperienced and it was possible the killing hadn't been his idea. Generally killing made a killer happy not shaky and teary. Maybe he'd been trying to make friends and influence people. Stupid kid.
This couldn't possibly end well once the rest of the island found out and Brian didn't want to be blamed for the other boy so he was careful to avoid getting blood anywhere on his clothes or sneakers as he inched closer.
Then he sighed quietly and gently touched the boy's shoulder. "Hey. Calm down."
He hadn't noticed. He hadn't let himself notice how delicate Laine really was. How fragile. He could feel Laine's bones grind together, his skin loose and dry like paper. He could feel the life draining out of him, shrinking in his arms like a deflating balloon, and he imagined he could feel his body cooling, one degree at a time.
The voice, he didn't hear at all, but his reaction to the touch was so violent and complete... A deep, gasping breath drawn into his lungs forcefully and his arm swung out, but it was weak. It should have mad him stronger, this life, but he was weak.
Brian lightly caught the swinging arm with his hand, setting it back at the boy's side before rolling his eyes. "Or not. But you're only going to make matters worse if you're going to insist on being difficult. What happened to your friend?" As if he couldn't guess.
Nothing gathered him up tighter to his chest. The body. Laine. Just a lump of meat and bone that used to smile and laugh and loved Robert Smith more than life and who gave really great head. It was his now, this body, and he held it like a child, a prized possession.
"Who are you?" he asked instead, lifting his eyes to the man and trying to steady his quaking chin. It comes out a whisper, floating out on a breath, and really... really he doesn't care.
The scream was what allerted Billy. He hadn't heard anything like that ever before, but there was such a... he wasn't sure there was a word for it, that sound. The emotion behind it. He wasn't even sure it was human. But he looked anyway.
What he saw made him sad more than shocked and for a second he had a flash of other dead bodies, covered in blood. Queenan's. Costello's crowd. That guy French shot in the middle of his fucking dinner. Billy shook his head. This wasn't the same. This was a fucking kid with a dead kid in his arms.
"Fuck," he mumbled and slowly walked closer, cautious and carefully, knowing the kid was likely scared. His voice was soft when he spoke, still a few yards away. "Hey..."
Perhaps not the best thing to say, but he had to allert this one to his presence before doing anything.
Nothing had almost gotten used to the answering silence. His throat was raw, and he thought of lapping up the last drops of blood oozing from the wound, looking for something to soothe him, to settle his stomach, but suddenly, the very idea revolted him. All that white hair, fried brittle with peroxide, fluttering in the breeze, and Nothing pushed it away from Laine's face, that sweet and impassive face. If he tried hard enough, maybe, just maybe, he could convince himself that Laine was only sleeping.
But then there was a voice, and Nothing startled, drawing in a painful gasp and gathering the dead weight of Laine's body to his chest.
The sound he made wasn't words at all. Choked and desperate. O god, o god... Where was he? Please, let him come back to tell me what to do.
Billy had stepped a bit closer and the boy - Billy was guessing he was somewhere around thirteen or fourteen - was not saying a word, but he knew he'd been heard. The sound was again less than human and something about it made his hair stand up at the back of his neck. But he couldn't just walk away from the kid. And shit... the other kid, the dead one (about the same age by the look of him) had been chewed on. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This was not good. Freaky too and Billy wondered if the one alive had done some of the biting. Still, despite the shock of that, he spoke again. "It's okay, kid," he said and hoping, perhaps even praying, that he was right about that.
No no no. No, it wasn't okay. It wasn't okay. Where the fuck was he? They'd been just over the Virginia border, making good time, no where near all this sand and surf and palm trees. No where near this man whom Nothing had never seen before, approaching him like you might approach a frightened animal. A cowering dog. Maybe that's what he was now. A predator.
He barred his teeth, blunt and streaked with blood. "It's not. Stay away," he warned, trying to sound bigger and older and more dangerous and important than he was. But he wasn't any of those things. He was only Nothing.
Comments 88
"Well, well. What have we 'ere?" he said calmly as he approached, not wanting to startle the bloke. He was mortal now, after all, and there'd been some killing going on. He didn't want to be the next one, thanks. He was fond of breathing, now that he was doing it again.
The coppery smell of blood was familiar, almost comforting, but there were going to be an awful lot of questions asked about the body, he knew.
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He tried to scuttle backward, but he couldn't let go. He couldn't let go of the boy in his arms so he sat there heavily in the sand and wondered if he waited long enough if he might disappear. Become something else entirely.
Then he looked up and for a moment he was completely taken by the bright white of the man's hair. The sharpness of his features. But it was all gone in a moment, and he bared his teeth, an intinct he didn't know he had.
"Stay away. Stay away from me," he said, utterly embarrassed by how small his voice sounded.
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"You new here?" he asked softly, looking at the boy. He was beginning to think he might know what was going on here. "Just showed up from wherever you were, yeah?"
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He didn't answer, but it was clear enough in his eyes. Panic and fear and hopelessness. Nothing was many things all at once but sometimes he was nothing but a child.
Reply
This couldn't possibly end well once the rest of the island found out and Brian didn't want to be blamed for the other boy so he was careful to avoid getting blood anywhere on his clothes or sneakers as he inched closer.
Then he sighed quietly and gently touched the boy's shoulder. "Hey. Calm down."
Reply
The voice, he didn't hear at all, but his reaction to the touch was so violent and complete... A deep, gasping breath drawn into his lungs forcefully and his arm swung out, but it was weak. It should have mad him stronger, this life, but he was weak.
Reply
Reply
"Who are you?" he asked instead, lifting his eyes to the man and trying to steady his quaking chin. It comes out a whisper, floating out on a breath, and really... really he doesn't care.
Reply
What he saw made him sad more than shocked and for a second he had a flash of other dead bodies, covered in blood. Queenan's. Costello's crowd. That guy French shot in the middle of his fucking dinner. Billy shook his head. This wasn't the same. This was a fucking kid with a dead kid in his arms.
"Fuck," he mumbled and slowly walked closer, cautious and carefully, knowing the kid was likely scared. His voice was soft when he spoke, still a few yards away. "Hey..."
Perhaps not the best thing to say, but he had to allert this one to his presence before doing anything.
Reply
But then there was a voice, and Nothing startled, drawing in a painful gasp and gathering the dead weight of Laine's body to his chest.
The sound he made wasn't words at all. Choked and desperate. O god, o god... Where was he? Please, let him come back to tell me what to do.
Reply
Reply
He barred his teeth, blunt and streaked with blood. "It's not. Stay away," he warned, trying to sound bigger and older and more dangerous and important than he was. But he wasn't any of those things. He was only Nothing.
Reply
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