A/N: I've altered it in that Grove is a brother in name only, not blood.

This has been sat around for nearly three years, just needing me to fill in a couple of gaps, so if the writing is poor I apologise. Just my own take on Grove's life up to the 2000 film

Worth it

I don't know what I am. Never have. I remember how it began though. I was about twelve when I started having the dreams. They involved me just walking through my house and doing things, everyday things, except that I could never pick anything up. It drove me mad. Then one time I managed to get angry enough and shoved a chair. It wobbled. After that all my dreams consisted of focusing on how to move things and pick them up. I didn't have these dreams every night, thank goodness, because every time I had one I always woke up feeling more tired than when I'd gone to bed.

The first suspicions about what was happening to me came when my dream self lost control of something he was carrying and dropped it with a loud bang on the floor. A lamp I think…or a vase, yes…a vase. It shattered. I still don't know why he was carrying it. What a strange thing to choose. I was woken by my mum, what seemed like, a few moments later. She was trembling. They thought there was someone else in the house. Dad had gone to have a look. It wasn't long before he was back. Standing tall and imposing, with a gun in his trouser waistband. Dad owned a gun?

"Looks like they tried to take a vase – heard me coming and ran away."

"Why a vase?" I'd asked, more to myself than to him. I still ask it to myself. What had been so important about the vase that he'd risked discovery? It took a lot of energy and concentration just to lift small items and he had tried a vase!

That was when the suspicion first came. Wasn't I lifting a vase in my dream?

It was inevitable that one day he'd leave the house. My dream self unlocked the front door and went for a walk. No one saw him in the darkness so he made it a regular occurrence. At least with these dreams I didn't feel exhausted when I woke up.

When I was thirteen people found out. I was ill. I had the flu I think and my mum tucked me up in my bed which was burning with my body heat but I couldn't throw off the covers because I was so cold. I fell into an uneasy fevered sleep. I can't remember doing so but I must have. No one remembers falling asleep anyway. So my dream self got up. It was…amazing – not feeling ill anymore. These weren't fevered dreams. These were the proper deep sleep kind. He went for a walk outside in broad daylight. It was unavoidable that someone would see him. He just strolled down the street in the sunshine as people gasped and pointed and whispered with wide eyes and open mouths. He'd never got so much attention before. It was strange but he neither enjoyed it nor hated it. He simply didn't care. Why would he? He was no longer tied to the silly whims and desires of the flesh.

I was ill for four days and during that time he went where he pleased and people saw and told my family strange stories. They disregarded them. How could their son be on the streets or a ghost when I was clearly alive and in bed?

On the fourth day my father saw him. He watched my father's face cloud with recognition and fear. That was the first time I felt a connection with my spirit self. Terror washed through me so fast and suffocating that I woke in bed with a start, as if from a nightmare.

"What is it?" my mother asked me, scuttling into the room at my cry. I was trembling too much to say a word. I just sat perfectly still, shaking, and straining my ears for the first sounds of my ruin. I prayed that it was all a nightmare. That I'd just dreamt it all. The crash of the front door shattered my hopes, my father's bellows of rage. Cowering I reached for my mother for comfort but he thundered into my room and thrust her away from me.

The words he was shouting still echo in my ears. Monster. Freak. Devil. Demon. Demon, demon, demon, demon!

He upended the bed so I tumbled onto the floor and banged my arm. It hurt. There were tears in my eyes.

"Out! Get out!" he screamed over and over at me. But he didn't touch me. He didn't want to touch me. He was afraid.

And I sat there on the floor and I cowered and sobbed and apologised, anything to stop the noise and the yawning loneliness and emptiness. I wouldn't move. I was too afraid.

He picked up a chair and threw it at me. It missed just barely, and broke, peppering me splinters. My mother was crying and weeping and trying to stop my father but he just kept pushing her back. Pushing her away.

When I still didn't move he picked up one of the shards of broke chair with its sharp jagged edge and brandished at me. He started to advance.

That was when I ran.

xxxxxxxxx

I was alone and outcast and I didn't know what to do. I wandered around aimlessly for an entire day, too afraid to sleep in case he came out of me again. I still didn't understand what happened. I just knew that him and I were connected and it only happened when I went to sleep. So I didn't. I returned to the house when it was dark and stood outside on the grass in bare feet, staring up at the dark windows feeling so lonely and cut off that I wanted to die. Nothing moved or stirred and I nearly started to cry again but I was too afraid that someone would hear. On the lawn there was a blackened patch, lightly touched by the moonlight. I walked over to see and couldn't contain the cry that escaped. All my things, my worldly possessions were there and burned. Burned till they were but fine ash, with a few relics scattered that refused to die…like a small statue I'd kept on my shelf. It was cracked and chipped but it was still there…so I took it.

I didn't find out till later that what happened was that my spirit left my body, all I knew was that I could go to sleep and live as a something, a ghost. Something that was mist and sunlight. It couldn't be hurt. I hated feeling the bite of hunger eating away at my insides, hated the burning thirst for clean water that didn't taste of illness, hated being ill and feeling the sickness, so I lived as a spirit. I didn't know that the longer I stayed a spirit the worse my body got. The spirit doesn't need the body, but the body needs the spirit. I never fully recovered from that time. A body cannot make up for wasted life. It can try. It can rejuvenate some of the spent resources once its back with the spirit but your body and spirit were never intended to be separated till your death, and breaking the two apart for any length of time means that they never really go back together again.

That was how I lived for a very long time. I moved away from my home in case my family saw me. I moved to an area that had been desolated by famine and sickness and was now abandoned. I lived in the rundown houses and found what I could to eat. As time went on I spent longer and longer in my spirit form and in the end I just surrendered myself to it completely.

Some time later, I don't know how much as time seemed irrelevant, I was drifting through the ruins, revealing in the feeling of being free from my cumbersome, weak body, when I felt someone disturb me. Everyone who passed my body, which were few, usually let it be, skirting around as if I had some catching disease. Death. I probably looked like one dead. So when I felt the presence of others I went back to investigate. One glance at me in spirit form was usually enough to send anyone who got too close running in fear.

I floated close by and observed those who were observing me. A short, thickly built man and a taller skinny one. A third dark skinned man stood on alert nearby. He hadn't noticed me yet.

"This is strange. The kid's heart is beating but he's not breathing regularly enough to stay alive."

"Let's take him somewhere safer,"

"I don't know why you're bothering…" the sentry started but was cut off.

"We need more men on this job and those that we can call in as reserves…especially after that last massacre."

The taller one bent to scoop my body up, and that's when I made my appearance. I slipped out of the shadows as if I were made of the same substance. The sentry started, stared and stuttered out the leader's name.

"Borgoff!"

The short one glanced over his shoulder and his eyes widened. "What the hell is it?" They were all looking at him…me…it, two with their weapons drawn and the tall one clutching my not-alive-not-dead body, clearly wishing he was holding a weapon instead. Slowly I floated towards them, they tensed, and then I float around them and straight at my body. Kyle clearly thought I was going for him and had frozen to the spot. The others seemed to be as equally paralysed. I was nothing they had ever seen before and if they attacked the spirit body they didn't know what would happen. As it was I slipped back into my body without touching any of them.

I was lucky really that Kyle didn't just kill me there and then. I was new and strange and not to be trusted, but Borgoff saw a gift where others had seen a curse and decided I was worth the risk. I didn't wake up at that moment, I was still unconscious from hunger and thirst and illness, but I woke up in a bed in an inn, very much better and being looked after.

They offered me a position on their team. They said they were brothers who were vampire hunters and if I joined them then I would be their brother too, in name rather than blood, but a bond that was equally as strong as far as they were concerned. I accepted obviously. I couldn't fight but they assured me that I could learn. There was nowhere else for me to go, and they offered me a new family. I would have been a fool to refuse, and I don't think even now, knowing what would happen, that I would go back and make any other decision. I still would say yes. Even now at the end.

As soon as I had recovered enough to move Borgoff led me to join the rest of the team. I was surprised when he started heading towards a tank but I guess I shouldn't have been really. They were vampire hunters after all.

"In here," he gestured and I stepped forward into the tank, not quite knowing what to expect. The place was spacious, well armoured and well equipped. There was an area for cooking, a section full of medical equipment and one bed. On that bed sat the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder is what they say and others might not have regarded her as pretty but to me she was breathtaking. There was so much there about her. Maybe being able to separate my spirit from my body helped me to see more of the spirit of others and she had so much. The pain and fear inside her was deep, the fear was buried and locked up…but wanting to surface. The fear of loneliness and rejection. The pain was much fresher, an open wound shown through her eyes, raw and hurting, mixed with anger and hatred. I didn't know what it was directed at…I'd have to ask her that. What was she? A couple of years younger than me? But I looked older. Much older, and I was beginning to feel it.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

It wasn't long before Borgoff realised that I was useless physically to the team. I had never been particularly strong or healthy and my weeks spent as a spirit had sapped my body of too much for me to ever fully recover.

There was an ambush. We were surrounded within seconds. The others whipped out their weapons and stood in the ready position and there I was gormless and scared, unable to move.

"Grove!" Borgoff yelled, pushing me roughly to one side and quickly decapitating a Minotaur."Get your weapon out boy!"

I fumbled and got my sword into my hand, swinging it with my hand curled around the handle tightly. I managed to chop at one of the Minotaurs but I failed to kill it. By that point I knew how to handle a sword but I was just not strong enough. The monster was wounded badly but it took me several more tries to kill it. By that time I was almost skewered as another came up behind me. Fortunately I'm fast. I'm useless and weak physically but I can move quickly. That was why the sword only caught my side. It was enough though – I fainted.

The next thing I knew he was on the battle field, looking around curiously. The creature that had struck me was so surprised it backed away from my prone body fearful, letting Kyle easily slice its head off.

He watched Leila for a while. She was spinning her thin swords in graceful arcs, cutting the air and anything that happened to fill it.

Time used to pass strangely when I was in spirit form. The only way I knew it was passing at all was because I could vaguely feel him getting stronger as my life bled away.

"Grove," the voice was strange and echoing. Leila was looking at him with sympathetic eyes. "Grove, its time to go back now."

For some reason he obeyed her with no hesitation.

xxxxxxxxxx

After sufficient recovery Borgoff came and sat on the edge of my bed. I was still too weak to move. It had taken me a long time to heal enough to be able to talk at length with someone, and that had been plenty enough time for me to accept that I was completely useless to the team and Borgoff was going to get rid of me, brother or no, as soon as possible. Leila had been the one who spent most of the time by my bed. That was sweet of her. I think that's when I began to fall in love with her. Anyway, she was the only one who kept me company, so when Borgoff came and sat himself down I truly thought that it was to tell me I was useless to them, a liability they couldn't afford.

"How are you feeling Grove?"

I just looked at him, knowing it was just a formality. He didn't really care. As I expected he carried on regardless. He already knew the answer.

"Listen, I think we both know that you're not going to survive another battle if you fight the way you do. You're just not strong enough."

I nodded, I knew it.

"Under normal circumstances this would require immediate expulsion from the group."

I sighed and lay back on the pillow, eyes closed.

"However…"

I opened one eye and looked at him, "However?"

Borgoff shifted and leaned closer. "You have a unique gift Grove if you could control and enhance it."

I was really attentive now, hope growing inside me. Borgoff carefully drew out a vial of some sort of yellow green liquid. It moved, shifted, sparkled. I was totally captivated.

"We stopped by a woman I once knew who dabbles in these sorts of things." Borgoff had his eyes firmly fixated on my face, trying to gauge a reaction. "This stuff, when diluted and injected into your veins, will help free your spirit and give it powers. Monsters of darkness cannot stand what's in this stuff."

I was slowly digesting what he was saying.

"I would have to give him free reign?" I asked quietly.

Borgoff was waiting for it. He knew how much I loved the freedom from physical restraints at the same time as fearing him because I had no control and he might decide not to come back to my body. That scared me.

"This keeps you conscious," he stated carefully. "You might not have much control but it'll be marginally more than before."

I bit my lip. "Can I think about it?" I asked.

"I'd think you stupid if you didn't want to," he answered, getting up.

"Wait," I half sat up and wished I hadn't. "Why did the woman make it?"

Borgoff paused. "The liquid lets anyone leave their body and equips them with the same powers. The problem is that huge risks are attached. Tearing a body and spirit apart is dangerous. It might kill the person, or send them into a coma, or mentally scar them, or the spirit might just not come back." He glanced at me to make sure I was absorbing this. "you have already, naturally, separated so you're not in danger of those things and having done it several times without this you'll just have some control…on the other hand…from seeing the effect leaving your body has on you…I can't account for any physical side effects…" he trailed off.

I lay back down. "I'll think about it."

xxxxxxxxxxx

As it was the decision was made for me. We were hunting Lord Drakkar. One of the most dangerous Vampires of the time. The price on his head was huge. The others stopped the tank and climbed out. I sat on the bed with my head in my hands. I wasn't going to jeopardise this and I still wasn't fully recovered from the last fight. There was a sudden commotion outside and I heard metallic clangs as things landed on the roof of the tank.

"Dammit!" Nolt swore.

I got to my feet but made no move towards the door. The fighting sounded terrible and I was helpless. Again and again my eyes were drawn to the shimmering vial.

The door slammed open as Kyle bolted in carrying Leila, blood dripping from her wounds. Her face was pale.

"Bandage her up Grove," Kyle ordered laying her on the only bed and heading back outside. "I can't do it myself. We're surrounded and outnumbered by Drakkar's minions."

Seeing Leila like that made up my mind.

"No, inject me with that stuff."

Kyle just stood there, shell-shocked. "You sure?"

"There's no time for sure," I told him as I lay down on the floor.

He hurried to prepare everything while I laid there with me eyes shut. The pain was short, sharp, and then gone.

He floated out the tank only this time I was more there. Nolt and Borgoff were overpowered and desperate. The minions, which looked like oversized deformed monkeys carrying weapons, took one look at him and started to shriek. I nudged him slightly in their direction and suddenly I was him. My consciousness slipped into my spirit easily, like water filling a container.

It had never been that easy before.

I turned gracefully and glided towards them, a smile on my face. Suddenly I was loving this freedom and grace. Fluorescent green sparks were jumping off me…and when I swept through them they just dissolved or exploded.

It was a great feeling.

I cleared the area of them and after scouting the place for anymore – which was really just an excuse to float around and enjoy it – I directed myself back to my body. I was reluctant to return to that weak shell but did anyway.

It hurt.

Hell it hurt.

I think I screamed.

I'm not sure. I passed out soon afterwards.

When I came around I couldn't move. Literally. There was no strength in any of my muscles and there was an oxygen mask over my face.

"You gave us a scare there," Leila was smiling weakly at me, one arm in a sling. "You almost stopped breathing for a moment. We had to get the oxygen mask on quickly."

I couldn't even smile at her.

"Why did you do it?"

I looked at her so intensely her eyes softened and she smiled. I could see she didn't get it.

"Of course, you can't speak." Suddenly she grabbed my hand and squeezed it. "Don't do it again, Grove, please. I don't want you to die."

I obviously said nothing and shut my eyes. I couldn't promise that. It hurt but…that feeling when I was in spirit form, that power, exhilaration…the feeling of being strong and useful…it was too much to resist.

I insisted they showed me how to inject myself in case of emergencies and it wasn't long after that they tracked Lord Drakkar to his lair. They took me with them – much to Leila's protests.

I still hadn't recovered from the last injection…come to think about it I spent most of my life on that bed. The only time of full recovery was when Borgoff decided to have a period of training and restock and rest…a bit like a holiday. I wasn't a spirit for about a year, though I still wandered occasionally when I was asleep. During that time I became more…human. I was healthy. I started looking less gaunt and more me, a young eighteen year old but talk about withdrawal symptoms! I hated feeling weak but I dealt with it and Leila helped me. It wasn't long though, back on the team, before I was needed and I was immediately hooked again.

Anyway, I was talking about Drakkar. I floated in there with the others – except Leila, who said she wanted to stay behind and keep an eye on my body – and swept around…and I spotted him. He was watching the group, preparing to attack. I circled him, drawing the other's attention to his presence and then I dived straight through him, cutting like a knife. He staggered…then stood up straight again. I was frozen in shock. Why hadn't he dissolved like all the others? He was weakened I could see. There was a pained expression marking his face. I found out later that I was unable to destroy the stronger creatures. I merely wounded them and made them uncomfortable, which meant that I was later excluded from helping out in those situations unless need was dire or there were minions to slay.

Drakkar drew his sword as I went in for another attack and sliced it right through me.

I think he killed me…in that instant anyway…a spirit can't actually die, though its vessel can. I told you that it hurt before. That was nothing to this. I couldn't scream. It was beyond screaming. I slammed back into my body with such force I couldn't get the air into my lungs.

If Leila hadn't been there…if she hadn't pressed the oxygen mask over my mouth…I would've died.

I was in a coma for two weeks.

It was while I was recovering from that that Borgoff called the halt. He said that we all needed it after defeating Lord Drakkar the way we did. They had finished him off after he had 'killed' me. That's the reason Borgoff gave anyway, I have a suspicion that he only decided to do it so I could regain my strength – what little of it there was left – but I've already told you about that.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

As the years went on I grew weaker and weaker. I became unable to get out of bed. That green stuff was like a drug, and like a drug it sapped me physically and robbed me of my life, bit by bit.

Despite Borgoff's discretion on which missions I could go on I still went on more than was safe for me, simply because I was hooked on the feeling I had when I was in spirit form. Once or twice I even went on missions I was forbidden to go on, merely by injecting myself.

After that Borgoff hid the green stuff.

Leila was furious.

The past couple of years though…I started to realise what it was doing to me. I asked Borgoff, as soon as I made up my mind, not to use me unless it was absolutely necessary. He agreed because he too saw that the stuff was killing me.

What I really hated was the pity in Leila's eyes. I knew I'd ruined my chances. As my physical strength drained so did my youth. I'm twenty-one but I look fifty. Knowing I had no chance myself with Leila I determined to watch over her and it hurt me to see her thinking about that D. She never said anything but I've known her since she was young and I can tell.

She went into that castle against my advice.
She wouldn't let me come…but I'm going in anyway. Borgoff left the vial by my bed.

It's not the feeling this time that draws me, it's her safety. I've thought about it long and hard as she'd been in that looming black fortress where the shadows are alive and everything's stained with blood. If I don't go in she won't survive.

I'm under no delusions. This will be my last spirit trip. This needle full of green shimmering liquid, catching the light in front of me is going to kill me…

But it's worth it for her.

I've always had a sort of picture of us as a team – standing in poses like superheroes. As long as I've been with the Marcus Brothers I've felt that I never belonged in that picture except as a floating cloud of green somewhere…but I've always wanted to stand at the edge, in profile, back sort of leaning against the others, arms folded, a half smile on my face – looking handsome and strong - and Leila would be looking tough next to Borgoff, Kyle and Nolt, but she'd be watching me out of the corner of her eye.

That was my dream.

My life is practically over; hers is just beginning.

I'm willing to make that exchange.