Fear and Bullets
By SweetMaddness

    The day had come. They'd existed together as long as they could and it was time to be reborn. But Eric wasn't worried. He knew that he and Shelly were meant to be together. Forever. They'd found each other in the last life and they'd find each other in the next. It was their second chance. Maybe this time they'd get to live happily ever after.
    He was there at the appointed time, ready and waiting for his reincarnation. He tried to imagine what his new life would be like. Where would he live, who would he live with? They'd been given no information on what this life would hold for them but Eric was excited like a kid on Christmas Eve, he couldn't wait to see what was inside the package. That's why he was surprised when his jubilant smile wasn't reflected on Shelly's sullen face.
    "What's wrong," he asked, reaching a hand out to caress her cheek.
Her eyes closed, her face moving away from his touch. "There's been a change." Her words were barely more than a whisper.
    "What kind of change?" Eric took another step closer, attempting to enfold her in his arms. She resisted only mildly and opened her sad eyes to gaze up at him.
    "You can't go with, Eric."
    "W..what? What do you mean I can't?"
    "I mean it isn't your time. You've been called to a higher purpose. I'm so sorry my love, but you have to go back... just as you are now. You're not to be reborn." Her eyes searched out the floor again, unable to bare the stunned look on his face.
    Eric took a step back, searching Shelly's form for some kind of answer. "You mean, I go back as me, as Eric Draven? Eric Draven like I was before I died?"
    She shook her head softly, her face raising toward the doorway in time to see the kohl black crow soar through it. "There are others who need your help Eric."
    He ducked away from the bird, refusing to let it reclaim it's perch on his shoulder. "No. Oh no! Fuck this! I did what I had to do. I did it for you, for us. Fuck everyone else. We're meant to be together Shelly." He
grabbed her arm, forcing her to look at him. She let out a soft sigh, her eyes showing just how badly her heart was breaking.
    "Nothing last forever, Eric. Not even death. Please, you have to hurry. They need you."
    "No, I'm not leaving! Never again, Shelly. I'm going with you."
    Her eyes fluttered closed, her face twisted in a sudden pain as she stumbled in Eric's embrace. "Oh God. Hurry, Eric! There's still time. Please, you can still save them. They need you, Eric. They need you more than I need you now." She tore from his arms, flinging herself against the wall, into the swirling vortex and onto her new life. Eric tried to follow, he lunged after her, but the wall closed in front of him and he could do nothing but claw at it in-between sobs.
    'This way,' the crow told him, waddling toward the only doorway. Eric hissed and threw a shoe at it, wanting to be left alone in his misery. The bird stared at him a moment before being racked by a small shiver. 'One's dead, Eric. Will you sit by and let the others die as well?'
    "Let them take care of themselves. I'm through."
    'Is that what Shelly would say?'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    Gray clouds were rolling in over the hill tops. They cast an eerie shadow over the dried up farmland and seemed to hum the words 'death is followed by the storm.'
    Eric had been too late. The second one had been coughing out his last breaths when he arrived, there was no hope in saving him. Only the third survived, but just barely. Eric had managed to intercept a tire iron aimed at his head, a blow that would have been fatal. He'd passed out shortly after Eric arrived and was now sleeping comfortably on the large mahogany bed. Eric was staring out the window, trying to think of what to say when the young man awoke.
    He heard soft groaning coming from the form behind him. Instead of rushing to his aid, Eric just leaned his forehead on the cool glass and wished it would just all go away.
    "Stefan?" a soft voice mumbled, rolling onto his back with a heavy groan. "Steve?" The boy sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes and gasping as dark flakes of dried blood fell from his eyelashes. He let out a low squeal, tears streaming down his face, as he clawed at his flesh in an effort to get rid of the film of red that covered his body.
    "It's all right," Eric said dispassionately, still not turning to face the man behind him. "Just calm down and everything will be all right."
    The frightened man curled up against the headboard, pulling the covers to his chin and eying Eric suspiciously. "Who are you? What do you want?"
"I want nothing. I'm here to help. And my name is Eric. Eric Draven." He got up and walked to the foot of the bed, trying his hardest to not seem intimidating. "What's your name?"
    "Brian... M...Molko." He was shaking so hard it was a wonder he could hang onto the blankets. His vibrant eyes never left Eric, tears still sliding over their rims. "Where's Stefan and Steve?"
    Eric looked toward the crow, who nodded in response to the unspoken question. "I'm sorry Brian. I'm afraid I couldn't save them."
    Eric slipped into the kitchen, trying to get as far away from Brian's mournful wails as he possibly could. After dousing his face in cold water he looked toward the crow perched precariously on the edge of the sink. "Okay. Where do I take him?"
    'No where. He goes with you.'
    "No fucking way! The guy's pint-size. He can't hold his own in a fight. If he could, I wouldn't have to be here. I'm walking him to the nearest train station and that's it."
    The bird scooted closer to Eric on his ledge, blinking his empty eyes up at him. 'His best friends were just killed, his only family is an ocean away, and there is still someone out there that wants him dead. All you have is each other. Protect him, Eric. It's what you are meant to do.'
    Eric leaned back on the counter, staring out at the shuddering mass that was sobbing into the dusty bedspread. He let out a deep sigh, leaning back to gaze at the ceiling. "Whoever said I wanted a destiny anyway?"

Baby's Lookin' Torn and Frayed

    Brian stared at his reflection in the small bathroom mirror. His fingers traced from the violet bruise beneath his right eye down to the long gash in his side. It had started bleeding again after his long shower and each
breath made him wince in pain.
    His mind was still racing from this afternoon's onslaught. The memories were tormenting him. Every time he closed his eyes images of blood and steal filled his vision. Part of him was astonished he'd survived. The other part wished he hadn't. He felt small and helpless and so utterly alone. What would he do without the others? They'd been his entire life for so long.
    He pulled on a clean pair of pants and set to brushing his hair. A few more flakes of dried blood fell from his scalp like rust colored dandruff and he wondered if he'd ever be completely clean again. His mind drifted to his strange companion and the even stranger things he'd told him. Brian had never denied the existence of ghosts but to have one sitting in front of you was something he never thought he'd experience. It was fucking with his head more than any drug ever had.
    There was a soft knock and the door clicked open without waiting for permission. Eric moved to the side of the tub and sat down, grabbing Brian's hips and pulling him closer. He tried not to squirm as the soft hands set about cleaning and bandaging his wounds. "I told you not to stay in so long. You wouldn't be bleeding so bad if you'd just listened to me."
    Brian became instantly defensive at the harsh tone and he glared at the man beneath him. "I'm not a little boy. I don't need you
telling me how to bathe." Eric applied the last strip of tape a bit too roughly and Brian grunted in response. He'd been on a hair trigger all afternoon and even though he knew his anger was unjustified, he couldn't help but blame Brian for this second loss of Shelly.
    The singer turned back to the mirror and started rummaging through his make-up. It was one of those days when he just wanted to disappear and, somehow, putting on a face made him feel better. It was like sliding on a mask and pretending to be someone else, someone strong and beautiful, someone who didn't break down in the face of all he'd been through.
    "Don't you think there are more important things to do than fiddle with your eyeliner?"
    Brian rolled his eyes and grabbed his blush. "You're one to talk. You look like a reject from Insane Clown Posse. Besides, you said you needed to ask questions. You can do that while I primp."
    With and annoyed sigh Eric moved to sit on the lid of the toilet. He watched the young man's profile as it was transformed from tired and scared to an exotic mask of emotion. "Alright. Maybe first you can tell me who's trying to kill you and why."
    Brian shrugged a pale shoulder, leaning closer to his reflection like he wanted to disappear in it. "Your guess is as good as mine. I'd never seen those people before. Just one minute we were walking home from lunch and the next..." His eyes fluttered closed and a hand went to his stomach, hoping he wouldn't lose what was left of his chef's salad as the memories flooded him again. He could still feel the warmth of the sun on his face, Steve's playful shove as he made a crack about him being in the closet. Then, as they rounded the deli into the deserted parking lot, the bite of the chain as it whipped against his belly.
    His eyes opened when he realized Eric's hand was on his chest. He was doubled over, wincing, as his fingers trembled against Brian's flesh. He reached up to it gently and the hand was instantly snatched away.
"I'm sorry," Eric mumbled, wiping the tears from his eyes. "If I touch you... while you're remembering... I can... experience it." He took a deep breath, raising his head and letting his eyes meet Brian's. It only lasted a second but was one of those instances that seemed to stretch on forever, like time had stopped. He now knew Brian's pain, his fear, and the deep sense of loss. He tore his eyes away when he started questioning who's sorrow was greater, Brian's or his. "Have you been threatened by anyone."
    Brian let out a spiteful chuckle. "We get threatened every other week. It's one of the side effects of being controversial. But nothing ever comes of it. Just little people trying to make themselves feel big and bad. The latest batch is sitting on the dresser. Our manager keeps all the others just in case... something happens." He blinked back his tears, finishing the last coat of lipstick and putting all the tubes back in the medicine cabinet.
    He followed Eric into the bedroom and searched for a clean shirt while the other man flipped through a stack of vulgar letters, half of them illegible. Brian groaned as he raised his arms and slid the t-shirt over his head. He flopped onto the bed, lighting a cigarette and blowing rings at the ceiling. "So can you, like, read my mind and stuff?"
    "No. I can just pick up memories sometimes. And no, I can't walk through walls either." He batted away the crow that was still attempting to land on his arm. It flew to the bed and perched on the headboard, bending down to let Brian stroke it's soft feathers. Eric abandoned the papers and sat in the window seat. "You don't have any enemies in the area? Someone in town you've pissed off?"
    "None that I know of. We'd run into town eat but other than that we just held up here."
    "What were you doing here anyway?"
Brian looked away, a glimmer of guilt in his eyes. "It was my idea. The tour had a three week break and the woods around here are legend to be haunted. I thought it'd be a fun place to write. The boys wanted to head to New York but I refused. God, if I wasn't so stubborn maybe they'd... still be..." Soft sobs attacked his body and he crawled under the covers, putting his back to Eric. He didn't want him to see him cry.
    "Just calm down," Eric said, shifting around uncomfortably. "I... I'm sure it's not your fault. I just need to figure this out. Five people in ski masks attacked you, none of which seemed familiar, right?" He watched the back of Brian's head as it nodded. "Did they say anything to you? Something that may help us find them?"
    "They said little faggots didn't belong in the world. Steve wasn't even..." he pulled the pillow closer, shielding his face with it like a form of armor that could protect him. "The one with the chain had a tattoo on his neck. A little black heart."

Flames Into Fires

    A blanket of stars twinkled in the blue black sky, illuminating the countryside in a soft glow. Brian's face was turned heavenward taking in the spectacle with quiet awe; you don't get nights like this in foggy London. The crow's black form passed overhead, startling him out of his inner musings. He gazed up the deserted street and a shiver wracked his body, there was something unsettling about this town at night. He unconsciously took a step closer to Eric.
    The trio stopped in front of a dimly lit tavern. A sputtering neon sign flashed in the window proclaiming Bud Light as the king of beers. Beyond that was a scattering of wasted faces huddled over half empty mugs as they contemplated their meager existences. Brian gave his companion a curious look as if to ask 'do you really expect me to go in there?' Eric responded by pushing open the door.
    The scent of stale cigarettes and unwashed flesh hung heavy in the room. Brian got a smile from the bartender and a twangy "Evenin' Miss." He nodded back stiffly and gave Eric another worried glance.
They strode side by side, all eyes on the curious pair of strangers. Brian slid into a table in the back and fumbled for his cigarettes. "What are you trying to do, get me killed?"
    Eric dropped into the seat next to him, his eyes darting between the handful of patrons in the dim room. "No, I'm trying to keep that from happening. If you know a better place to scout, I'm all ears. If not, then keep your eyes peeled for someone who looks familiar."
    They sat in silence for the next twenty minutes. A beer was set in front of Brian, "Compliments of the man in the corner." He flashed a nervous smile to the Hank Williams look-a-like that was eyeing him lewdly and tried to sink down further in his seat.
    As the bar's door opened, Brian's blood went cold and an indescribable fear gripped him. He found himself staring at the grizzly new arrival, an unignorable urge to run flooding his body and he gripped Eric's hand tightly. The towering figure headed to the bar, scratching the three day stubble on his chin and slumping onto a tattered stool. He glanced around, his eyes falling on Brian and glinting with recognition. Eric's hand was squeezed painfully and a frazzled gasp passed Brian's lips. "The heart."
    Eric followed his gaze, spotting the damning black mark on the new comer's neck. He freed himself from Brian's grasp, pulling him to his feet. "Go home," he said curtly, moving away from the table.
    Brian chased after him, his mouth rambling out a thousand questions. "Why? What's going on? Why can't I stay?"
    Eric led him to the door by his elbow. "You want none of this, Brian. Go home. The crow will watch over you."
    Brian reluctantly headed back the direction they came. The crow landed on his soft shoulder and the odd silhouette disappeared into a thicket of trees. Eric crouched down in the shadows beside the bar's only exit, a panther in wait of it's prey. Keeping still and quiet wasn't a problem, he didn't have long to wait.
The door banged open and a face twisted in anger and worry stormed up the sidewalk. Eric lurched after him, calculating his steps so his presence wouldn't be known until they reached the mouth of the alley. Right on cue the little vermin turned, his lips twisted in an insult he didn't have time to sling as he was grabbed by his neck and pulled into the darkness.
    A crunch of bones broke the silence as Eric slammed his catch into the brick wall. "Who.. are you?" it stammered out between gasping breaths.
    "I am the executioner." He pulled the knife from his coat pocket, pressing the tip to the small tattoo at the base of the other man's neck. "You bear the mark of the devil but that still doesn't give you the right to start inquisitions."
    "Look asshole, I don't know who you are of what..."
    His words were cut off by a low scream as the grip on his neck tightened. "I've told you who I am. I'd recommend using the time you have left to ask God for forgiveness, but since you're so keen on conversation, I'll pick the subject. Who are the others?"
    "Fuck you freak boy."
    The knife landed in his left eye, twisting until the slick ball popped free of the socket. He waited a few minutes for the screaming to subside then let the blade hover an inch from the crying right eye. "Are you ready to answer or do I need to ask the question again?"
    "Alright!" he whimpered, trying to squirm from Eric's grasp. "It was Kenny's idea. He's the one who first spotted 'em. We had to do it. We have to protect our children and the integrity of the town. I mean, what were we supposed to do? Just let the little faggots run wild."
    "Where are they?" Eric growled, the blood flowing over his fingers not making him loosen his grip. A few tight squeezes got the pig to squeal.
    "Ted has a grocery up on Monroe. Bill and Mark are out at the lake for fishing season. Kenny hasn't been seen since yesterday. You satisfied?"
    "I'll never be satisfied," Eric hissed. "Not until the whole world has experienced pain as great as mine. This is just a tenth of what I feel." He plunged the knife into his victims thick neck, yanking it until a long spray of crimson jetted from the wound. He dropped the gurgling and twitching mass onto the pavement, a late night snack for that rats. With a sigh Eric headed off toward the forest, contemplating his last kill and wondering how many more would die at his hand while he served his 'higher purpose'. "So this is eternity?" he sneered at the moon.

Find me Space

    Still half asleep, Brian stumbled out of the bathroom. He trailed one hand along the wall to steady himself, his other reaching down to adjust the blue boxers n his skinny hips. Turning the corner into the cabin's small living room and popping one eye open to see where he was going, he caught site of something on the couch, a form with dark hair hanging down to broad shoulders. "What time is it, Steve?" Brian mumbled, sitting down beside him and dropping his head on the other man's shoulder.
    "It's late," came a deep, American accent. "Did I wake you?"
Brian rubbed his face and blinked in the darkness, focusing on who it was sitting next to him. Tears welled in his eyes and he slid to the other end of the couch. "Sorry Eric, I thought you were..."
    He waved it off. "Don't worry. What are you doing up?"
    Brian blinked, searching his sleep foggy brain for the reason. "I was having... dreams." He curled his knees to his chest, leaning his head back with a sigh. "So I decided to take a pee and let my mind settle." He turned his face to Eric, squinting a bit as he made out the spots of blood that covered his clothing. "Oh god, what happened?"
    "One down," Eric mumbled, closing his eyes against the memory.
    Brian shuddered, hugging his legs a little tighter. "What about the others?"
    "They'll be dealt with soon enough. I don't really feel like talking about it."
    "Okay. What do you want to talk about?"
    Eric shot him a look as if to say 'nothing with you' and Brian got off the couch in a huff.
    "Do you really hate me that much that we can't even hold a conversation? You don't even know me, for fuck's sake! You're just so hell bent on vengeance that you have to torture everyone you come across, even the ones who are trying to be nice to you."
    "I have a right to be vengeful."
    "Oh yeah? What gives you that right?"
    "All that I've suffered gives it to me."
    "Other people suffer, you're not the only one. You think I'm not suffering?"
    "You have no comparison to what I'm feeling. I lost my wife!"
    "And I lost my husbands!"
    The low rumble of laughter coming from Eric's throat made Brian's face twist with anger. He reached his hand out, arching it in a graceful swoop and hearing a satisfying smack as it made contact with flesh.
The moment of shock wore off quickly, and Eric leapt from the couch,
growling as he tackled the smaller man to the floor.
    His first blow missed. Brian may not be strong but he's dexterous and knew how to get out of the path of a falling fist. He scrambled out from under Eric and made a dash for the bathroom. A strong arm wrapped around his waist and flung him onto the couch, the tall man's fist readying for a second try. It was the crow that stopped him this time, flying in from the bedroom and batting it's wings in Eric's face until he lost balance and fell on top of Brian.
    What he felt when their skin met nearly paralyzed him. He was hit with the cacophony of Brian's emotions. The fear was first, as he saw himself from Brian's eyes, wondering if this supernatural fist would smash his face to bits and pieces. Beyond that were the ever present memories of those he'd lost. There was the recent nightmare: the image of Steve stepping between Brian and his attacker, trying to protect him even as his own death blow was being delivered. He saw the good times, the laughter that would never be again. And he felt what Brian felt, a love for these men that transcended platonic friendship even without need of physical coupling. It was a love greater than any Eric had ever known. As much as it hurt him to admit it, this was a love even greater than what he'd felt for Shelly.
    Standing back up, Eric tried to hide the fact that he was shaking. "I'm
sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"
    Brian's hands were still in front of him protecting his face and it took him a moment to realize the fight had stopped. He slowly raised his eyes to the figure towering over him, cringing more into the couch. "No, I'm fine," he choked out.
    Eric kneeled down so they were at eye level, rubbing his face with a deep sigh. "You're right, Brian. I shouldn't be treating you this way." It sounded like each word was a torment for Eric to say. Angels of justice have problems admitting they're wrong.
    Brian sat up slowly, still watching Eric's every movement just in case.
He rubbed the back of his head; there was a knot from where it'd hit the
floor but it wasn't bad. "What... made you realize that?"
    Eric gave him a soft smile, "Let's just say a little birdie told me." He moved up to sit next to Brian, feeling very guilty at the way the smaller man flinched from the closeness. "Let's start over, Brian. I was sent here for a reason and I'm sure that doesn't include pounding you senseless. Truce?"
    With a relieved sigh, Brian took the offered hand, shaking it firmly.
"Truce," he mumbled in-between a yawn. Everything was catching up with him, the previous exertion having seriously worn him out, but still he tried to shake himself back awake.
    "Why don't you go back to bed," Eric said gently. "It's been a long day."
    Brian looked at him with something akin to panic. "No, that's alright,
I'm not tired," he insisted, but his drooping eyelids told a different story.
    Eric tsked but he didn't blame him, he wouldn't want to sleep either with dreams like that haunting him. "Just lay down on the couch and rest. I'll stay here and keep you company." He was going to get up and sit in the armchair but before he could move Brian's head landed in his lap, one thin arm wrapping around his legs.
    They talked, telling stories about their loved ones, their past, their thoughts on the present. Brian told stories of the road, recounting the rock star life that Eric always wanted but never achieved. In return, Eric taught him about death, of the peace in the after life, and the comfort and safety his friends were existing in now.
    Brian stirred and let out another squeaky yawn. "Oh god Eric, I don't know if I can keep my eyes open much longer."
    "Just let them close. I'll wake you if you start to have bad dreams."
    "Promise?"
    "I promise. I'm here to protect you, after all."
    Brian looked up at him, giggling softly. "Now remember that next time you want to smash my face in." He drifted slowly into sleep with the warmth of Eric's hand on his shoulder and the softness of his thighs beneath his cheek.

Passive Aggressive

    A single light shone within the closed store, illuminating the counter and the middle-aged man who was counting money behind it. "Are you sure this is the place?" Eric heard for the third time and a pair of boney kneecaps dug into his back as Brian tried to see into the window. He was grabbed before he leaned far enough in to be spotted, and Eric got up from his crouching position.
    "Yes, I'm positive. Now just stay behind me and don't do anything unless I tell you to." He had wanted to leave Brian back at the cabin, knowing he could be easily hurt if a fight broke out, but one of the attackers had disappeared and there was a chance he may be looking to get Brian alone and finish the job. Eric would just have to do his best to keep him out of harm.
    They made their way to the door, Brian holding onto Eric's arm and looking around nervously. He tried the knob: locked. Taking a step back, his combat boot kicked onto the metal handle and the door flew open with a loud crash. He stalked in, trying to seem menacing even with a wide-eyed nancy boy hanging onto his shoulder and muttering "holy fuck!"
    Eric pointed down an aisle loaded with aspirin and baby supplies and Brian quickly slipped over to it, ducking his head behind the low wooden shelves. He peaked over the top, watching as Eric walked calmly to the counter and pulled out a small black pistol. "Do you sell ammunition?"
    "Who the fuck are you? Get out!" came the response, but the wavering in the man's voice broke the illusion of bravado he was trying to give.
    "I believe you know my friend," he said, motioning with his head to Brian. The singer gave a nervous smile and ducked down further, watching the scene through an opening between the boxes of Ex-Lax and diet pills. "As for me," Eric continued, cocking his pistol, "I'm a devil sent by God to teach you the price of abusing angels. But first I want to know where Kenny is."
    A large wad of spit hit Eric in the face, landing on the bridge of his nose and slowly rolling down. He calmly wiped it off before grabbing Ted's smiling face and smashing it into the cash register. It made a mechanic 'bing' and the drawer flew open. He stumbled back, wiping away the blood on his cheek and grabbing his spinning head. Vaguely, he heard Eric ask the question again. "Fuck you, I don't know!" came the reply.
    Eric sighed and raised his weapon. "Any last requests?" Brian, having seen enough death in the past few days, tried to hide his eyes from what was about to come. In doing so, he lost his balance and had to grab onto the shelf in front of him, rocking it and sending boxes and jars crashing to the floor. Eric looked over his shoulder to make sure he was all right and Ted took the opportunity to grab his shotgun from under the counter.
    "Yeah. Die!" he shouted and emptied the barrel into Eric's chest. Brian screamed as he watched him stumble backwards. The piercing sound was soon replaced by Eric's rumbling laughter as he righted himself and watched the wounds close up. Another loud boom filled the tiny store as a bullet sought out Ted's forehead. He flew back against the packs of cigarettes and slumped to the floor motionless. Eric looked down at the holes in his shirt and tsked, now he'd have to find a new one.
    Small hands rained down on his back, beating him weakly, and he almost backhanded the attacker until he heard the sobs that accompanied the blows. He turned and grabbed Brian's wrists, holding the struggling man in place.
    "You fucker," he shouted between sobs. "I thought he'd killed you!"
    Eric let go of his wrists and let the smaller man fall into his arms, holding him tightly. Brian sobbed into his chest, repeating his statement over and over again. Soft hands caressed his hair and back. "They can't get rid of me that easily," Eric said.
    Brian took a deep breath and looked up at him, his body still shaking in Eric's arms. "I couldn't bare losing someone else. You're all I've got now."
    Cupping Brian's face in his hands, Eric placed a soft kiss on his forehead. "I'm not going anywhere."

If You Deny This

    The sound of water rushing through rusty pipes could be heard throughout the small cabin as Eric showered.  Brian sighed and flipped the heavy comforter off his body, there was no way he was getting to sleep with that racket going on.  Turning the light back on, he grabbed his book off the table and tried to read. All he did was stare at the page blindly as he strained his ears to try and hear what Eric was up to. He liked to sing in the shower, how sweet.
    The gushing through the pipes wound down to a soft hiss and he heard the shower curtain being pulled back. Damn, sound really carried in this place at night. No wonder Steve always knew when he and Stefan had been fucking. Footsteps started down the hallway and Brian panicked a moment, wondering if he should kill the light and pretend he was asleep. That train of thought ended when he heard the soft knocking on the bedroom door.
    Eric never waited to be invited in, just gave a quick knock as a two-second warning. Brian used the time to grab a nearby pillow and pull it over his lap before burying his nose back in the book.
"Hey," Eric said, slipping through the door wearing a pair of Steve's worn blue jeans. "What are you still doing up? You'd looked like you were ready to crash."
    "Decided to read a bit," he said holding up the book, then realized it was upside down and set it aside with an embarrassed smile.
    Eric tried to stifle his chuckle, but his face was caring. "I guess your concentration is slipping, considering what you've been through."
    He nodded, shifting uncomfortably beneath the pillow and wondering if Eric would be bothered by his nudity.  A strong hand rubbed up and down his calf, a caring gesture that made Brian's muscles unwind as he relaxed against the headboard.  "So what's the next step?"
    Eric thought about that for a moment.  "I was told the next two were up at some lake. I checked the map, Wheeler Lake is the only one near here. We should head out early tomorrow. I'll get us a car and we should make it there by nightfall.  I can only hope one of them knows where this Kenny guy is, because if not then we've got nothing to go on."
    Brian frowned, his eyes flitting to look out the moon soaked window.  "You'll be leaving once he's dead, wont' you?"
    The hand stopped rubbing his calf but wasn't retracted. "I don't know," Eric said softly, a little confused by the sadness in his own voice.  "I don't know how it works now.  Before... I was doing it for Shelly, so I could be with her again. Now, I'm doing it because I was told to. I suppose when it's done there will be another task set out for me. An endless stream of vengeance stretching out into infinity.  It's funny, when I was alive I never considered myself a violent person." He couldn't help the spiteful laugh that ripped from his throat.
    Brian leaned over, his hand reaching to gently cup Eric's cheek. He was a bit surprised by the content moan it caused in the other man and seeing his eyes flutter shut as he leaned into the touch. "You're a good person," Brian said softly. "You're doing a good thing for me.  I'm forever in your debt. Don't focus on what you're doing, focus on what you're doing it for."
    "You mean who I'm doing it for?" he asked with a smile, his eyes raising to Brian's.  "It's worth it to make sure you're safe, believe me.  Now that I've... well... stopped being such a whiny bitch," they both shared a small laugh, "and taken the time to get to know you, I have no regrets for anything I have to do to keep you alive. I only wish I could have made it here sooner... for you friends..."
    Tears were shining in the bigger man's eyes and Brian quickly reached a finger up to shush him. "You've done more than any stranger could ever be asked to do." Eric took an unsteady breath and a few of the tears slipped down his cheek.  Before he knew what he was doing, Brian had leaned forward to kiss them away, just like he did when Stef missed his boyfriend or Steve missed Emily. His lips made contact with the soft flesh, settling on the chiseled cheek bone as his tongue darted out to claim the salty droplet that had settled there.
    Brian pulled back and the two men froze, staring at one another.  He was about to blush and offer an apology when he felt the hand on his calf slide slowly up his leg, stopping at his thigh. He looked down at it, seeing the muscles tense and the fingertips grip him softly. He suddenly remembered the pillow covering his midsection as another part of his anatomy started poking into it.
    "Um, Eric..." he said with a blush, trying to explain the predicament he'd gotten into, positive that Eric didn't share his arousal. The sentence was cut short by thick lips meeting his own and a rough tongue sliding into his mouth.  The hand finished it's journey up his thigh, sliding under the pillow and timidly exploring what was trapped underneath.
    "Eric," he panted against his still probing mouth, "have you ever... I mean... do you like..."
    "Guys?" he finished with a smile. All Brian could do was nod, hypnotized by those curling lips. "I like them," he said, his hand moving back to cup Brian's waist while he spoke. "I've never really... done anything. I mean I was with Shelly since high school and we were monogamous so I didn't get a chance to... experiment much. But, yeah, the attractions always been there."
    Smiling softly, Brian took the blushing boy by the shoulder and pulled him down on top of him.  They kissed again, slower this time, learning the curves of each other's mouths. Hands trailed over each other's flesh, fingering the outline of muscle or bone.  Eric reached down to slide the pillow from between them, reaching for Brian's swollen cock but the boy giggled and batted his hand away, pushing him to the mattress forcefully.
    "Better let me take it from here, seeing as how I have all the sexual experience in the room."
    "Hey, I have plenty of experience!" Eric shot back. "I'm just not as well read as you are on the subject."
    "You mean your note as well rode as I am," he giggled, popping the button on the fly of the jeans and slipping them off Eric's legs. His head bobbed down, licking Eric from base to tip and swirling his pink tongue around the head.
    "Oh God!" he moaned through clenched teeth. "Please Brian, if you do that I wont last much longer!"
    Taking the hint, the singer rummaged through the little bag he always kept on the bedside table. Extracting a condom and tube of lube, he crawled back over to his lover, looked at what he gathered and threw the condom over his shoulder. "Guess you don't have AIDs, since you're already dead," he giggled.  Pouring a thick glob of the liquid on Eric's cock he swirled it around a bit with his fingers then positioned himself above it.
    He descended slowly, a loud moan echoing through the cabin's thin walls as he impaled himself.  Eric wrenched his eyes shut and tried not to scream too loudly, tried not to thrust so hard that he'd throw Brian from his lap. His hands wrapped around the flared hips, fingers digging firmly into Brian's butt cheeks as they rode each other like it was the first either of them had experienced it.
    Brian came with a howl, shooting so hard it splattered across Eric's neck but that didn't stop him from bouncing up and down, squeezing his ass open and closed as he coaxed an equally violent orgasm from his partner.  They collapsed together, breath heaving and holding each other tightly.  "Amazing," Eric whispered.
    "Definitely," came Brian's hummed response.

To be continued...

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