The Devil's Backbone

Mama's gonna make all of your
Nightmares come true
Mama's gonna put all of her fears into you
Mama's gonna keep you right here
Under her wing
she won't let you fly but she might let you sing-Pink Floyd, Mother

"So, we'll see you there?" Reno's eyes were pinched against the winter glare of the Rocket Town sky, his goggles, as usual, sitting atop his forehead instead of on his eyes where they might do some good. He watched Cloud finish packing an ATV with food and medical supplies bound for North Corel and bit his cheek in worry.

He didn't like this plan one tiny, motherfucking bit.

"Yeah, it shouldn't be more than about a three day trek under the worst of conditions. There shouldn't be anyone that I can't cut up, Rude can't beat up, Cid can't poke or curse to death, and Vin can't shoot."

"I don't like being split up from both you and Rude like this. I mean..."

"Reno, you are flying ahead of us so you can fly us home." He grinned patiently, despite sharing more than a little of his lover's misgivings. "Come on, what's the worst that can happen? Spending three days with Barret in Corel?"

"You gotta admit, that's pretty damn bad." He gave a dramatic sigh, kissed the blonde and headed toward the chopper. There was really nothing to worry about, he told himself. Just a relief convoy. Just guard duty. Just another milk run.

Just another potential nightmare, with his luck.

Cloud watched the helicopter fly away and tried to ignore the nagging doubts in his mind. They had plenty of people to defend the convoy, true, and one more person didn't make that much difference. He strapped down one more package of dry goods and turned to Cid. "That about does it."

"We got, what, twelve trucks of shit going to that hellhole? And two nights on the road? Fuck me runnin' but I'll be glad when this is over and I'm back home. Never did like being out in the open like this." The pilot lit a cigarette and glared at the mountains before them. "Like crawlin' over the backbone of the devil if ya ask me."

"We had best get started. It would be good to be well underway so that we can make camp before nightfall." Vincent had Cerberus in the ever present thigh holster but had added a sniper rifle to a back rig. Cloud wondered what other weapons he had hidden about his body.

It seemed like overkill. A handful of rookies used this as a training mission under Rude's watchful eye, in addition to Vincent, Cloud, and Cid providing actual guard. But in addition to the constant presence of bandits on the remote mountain roads, the head of the guards in Corel had mentioned a minor problem of late with dragons.

It wasn't really the area, or the time of the year, for dragons.

But even so, they watched the convoy, and each other's backs, with a kind of growing tension.

They pulled the trucks and jeeps into a circle near a small outcropping of trees and made camp. Cid, Cloud, and Vincent led the watch while Rude and his rookies would take second. Vincent unhooked the rig holding his sniper rifle and holster, keeping his compact .45 in his waistband, and settled down to dinner.

Such as it was. Camping was not his specialty; he'd done enough of it when he had to, and now that he was a man of leisure he preferred to spend his nights under a roof with his stack of takeout menus and a nice bottle of wine and a gas heater. He drew his coat against the winter chill and looked across where Cloud, a camping enthusiast himself, seemed to be having similar thoughts.

"Why can't people need food and medicine in summer?" Obviously, love of the outdoors had its limits.

But it was a damn good question. "Are you all right? With us being here?"

"It's the other side of the mountain. Not like I'm camping in my old back yard. But yeah, it's a little...weird."

Vincent nodded in acknowledgment, rinsed his soup cup and looked across to the Turk side of the camp in time to see a large bald man get up and walk to the edge, obviously going to check things out before bedding down for the night.

"I'll be right back. Recon."

"Right," his friend grinned.

"See anything unusual today?"

It wasn't small talk. It never was. The two men walked side by side in easy companionship.

"No. Just a feeling."

"Like you were being watched?"

"You don't think I'm paranoid."

"You don't get paranoid, Vin." His snort was soft, amused. "Well, not that often, anyway."

He stuck his right hand in his pocket, both for warmth and because it brought it closer to his belt holster, and stopped walking. Rude stopped with him. The woods were completely, utterly quiet and their breath hung in the air.

They were alone.

Whatever may or may not have stalked the convoy that day, it was not here.

It would have made more sense not to do it, but the feeling of danger pulled at them. Rude backed him into the smooth bark of a tree, and ground into him with a kiss that took his breath from him. He pushed his mouth open with his own, tongues tangling with each other, the heat of their lips against each other nearly burning in the winter cold.

As tempting as it was to throw each other to the ground, naked, both the cold and the situation made it an impossible choice. Rude unfastened both their pants, exposing them as little as necessary but enough to bring both their erections in heated contact with each other and Vincent fought the urge to moan. A tremble went though Rude's chest and he kissed him again in earnest. He went to join his lace his fingers alongside.

"No, I'll do this." Vincent choked back a laugh. Even here in the heat of passion, it was so much like him to be so practical-minded. Rude would never let him, the better marksman, ever take his hand away from his pistol.

But the practicality of it didn't stop the pleasure from sending him reeling. He broke the kiss just long enough to take a deep but shaky breath. "Gods..." he whispered, in a voice pitched for his lover's ears alone.

"Yes." Rude's hips bucked harder into his now, his senses even more hypersensitive than usual. He bit his tongue to keep silent a wail.

Their lips met, one final time, hardness rubbing into hardness and just the corners of their mouths touching so that they both could gasp for breath. Rude's thumb rubbed circles on the head of his cock, spreading the moisture he found there and dipping between them to lubricate the friction between them. Vincent leaned his head back into the bark of the tree as he felt himself erupt warm over Rude's fingers, and Rude grunt softly as he jerked his hips and joined him in climax only moments later.

They stood still, trembling a little against the tree, until they steadied themselves, then cleaned up with a few napkins that Rude had packed in a pocket of his cargo pants. After burying them in the leafy dirt of the forest floor, Vincent paused before walking back and leaned into Rude's muscular chest, soaking up the warmth in the winter chill of the night. "That was not terribly…adult of us."

"Camp's guarded, we already did a recon." And it was the last privacy they would have for a while.

"Yes, I can hear your partner now. 'Reconning each other's pants is more like it!'"

Rude grinned briefly at the accurate Reno impersonation. "Time we got back, anyway."

They reentered camp from slightly different directions, respective to where they had been stationed. Vincent sat down at his bedroll to a somewhat amused glance from Cid.

"Find anything interestin' out there in the woods tonight?"

He poured a cup of tea, his only answer to the pilot something between a bland look and a crimson glare.

"Hope you don't think you were bein' sneaky with that."

"I was aiming more for tactful."

"Then the two of ya mighta should have waited till we got to Corel." He gave Vincent's shoulder a friendly squeeze and went off to take his post. Vincent laughed quietly, in spite of himself. There just wasn't any use getting anything past Cid.

Breakfast was little more than a protein bar and coffee, both of which tasted like slightly different consistencies of mud. They would kill the appetite for a few hours, however, and they made good time until they reached the hard travel of the high mountains. It was difficult and frustrating, stop and go progress and the eerie feeling of being watched from the sheer rock face of the mountain walls grew, the higher they went. Suddenly a high pitched whine shocked them as a dark shape flew out from between the rock outcroppings and nearly buzzed one of the trucks.

"Fuck all!" Cid looked around for where the creature had gone. "Did anyone see what it was?"

"A dragon, from the look and sound, but a small one." Vincent furrowed his brow, narrowing his marksman's eyes in the direction in which the thing had disappeared. "You know what is odd? I haven't seen a single bandit, and this road is usually rife with them."

"Do you think the dragons have frightened them away?"

"Bandits are determined and dumb as rocks. I don't think a 'mild' dragon problem is going to scare them off. Besides, all I've seen is one, tiny dragon. I'll ride on ahead." Cloud started up his small mountain bike and rode next to the first jeep until they broke for lunch.

"I saw a few of them; they seem to be coming closer. I think there's a nest. They seem to all be about the same age."

But nothing came of it all. There were a few more sightings but they never came too near the party. When they made camp for the night, however, they kept watch more closely than they had before. And when Rude took his turn, he was not surprised at the presence behind him.

"You should be resting."

"I can go several days without sleep."

"I know. It's damned irritating."

"But handy during movie marathons, you must admit."

Rude leaned back against the rock where his lover perched with odd, birdlike grace above him. "I appreciate it. And no, it's not because you're a better shot than I am."

"Let's hope we don't need that before dawn breaks."

They didn't, but it was unnerving, looking out away from the camp at the firelight reflected in the many, many eyes staring back at them, until the sun rose.

They were on the move as soon as they could see, eating their breakfast as they broke camp and drove away. This time, the dragons swooped in much closer and, after several threatened attacks, Vincent had begun shooting to frighten them away at first, and finally picking them out of the sky.

As the afternoon went on, the threat became worse. When they got too close, the convoy would stop and Vincent would shoot the few that were in the air, and if one would land, Cloud would dispatch it with his sword. They were absurdly easy to kill on the ground, unsure of their footing and offering little resistance. But the closer they got to Corel, the more frequent the attacks became.

The lead ATV stopped. "We can't make any progress in this," Cid shouted over the screeches of the dragons. "I've never seen this many. They might be babies but there is a shit ton of 'em."

"Keep driving. I'll take care of as many as I can." Vincent shot the nearest one from the tailgate of a truck. "Just try not to roll me off the back."

They made steady, if slow progress as Vincent and the others shot any young dragons who found themselves too close, until dusk when a low, grumbling roar split the night sky. "What the hells is that?" Cloud was afraid of the answer.

Cid lit his cigarette; it stuck briefly to his lip and then fell, still smoldering, down to the sand.

"Momma."

"I don't like this."

Reno paced a trough up and down what appeared to be the main hall in this section of North Corel, and Barret attempted to stop him by glaring.

"Reno, you've said that twenty damn times, already. I know it's a shit town, hell it's my home town! I oughtta know!"

"No, they should be here by now. Even in the most shit weather, up on the west end of the mountains, it couldn't have delayed them by more than a half day unless...unless it was really bad and it wasn't when we left. I mean, it would have to be balls deep snow or something. Nothing worse than bandits that I've ever heard of up there."

"That little snot that's head of the guards did say something about a minor dragon problem, but I haven't been around that much the last few years to tell."

"Would have to be pretty fucking minor. I've never heard of a dragon this far up. Well, maybe one, but it usually dies out in the winter." He got up again and walked to the window, staring out at the usual, unimpressive gray winter sky through the dirty glass. "Something is wrong, man. I'm going out. You with me?"

Barret looked at Reno for a moment. "Well hell, somebody with sense needs to be on that helicopter. Let's go."

The city gates of Corel were only a few tantalizing miles away, but they might as well have been a thousand. A dozen or so small dragons still flew about protected by one mother. And the latter was quite obviously very put out that the convoy guard had spent a day and a half killing several of her offspring.

Cid leaned back on the hood of the truck. "Oh, fuck me to tears. This is just fuckin' peachy! Two days across the fuckin' mountains in weather cold enough to freeze my junk, all to be turned into dragon shit? I knew I shoulda stayed home, gods damn it."

Vincent tossed Tifa his .45 and sniped at the mother until it was obvious that it was doing little good. Cloud moved around to the back of one of the smaller dragons, and cut at its legs, stabbing it in the throat when it fell. Cid speared two more, until the mother took notice, slapping Cid out of the way with her tail.

Vincent moved underneath, in spite of his desire to check on his friend, and attempted to get a clear shot at her throat with Cerberus as Cloud moved to the side to cut from there. But the mother noticed Cloud then, bending down and grasping him with her mouth, and tossing his broken body to the side in her fangs.

That did it. Cerberus fell uselessly to the ground and another inhuman roar joined that of the dragon, and all hells, quite literally, broke loose in the Corel desert.

"And what the fuck..." Whatever Reno had thought he'd find when he came upon the convoy, it wasn't this.

"Galian. What the fuck is a good question. I see a lotta dead monsters and one pissed off demon." No sooner had it registered what must be happening, than a battered Galian ran a short distance and reverted back to a bloody mess of rags that might, in a better condition, resemble Vincent Valentine. Stunned, Reno set down the helicopter and Barret emptied a good number of rounds into the still form of the dragon, just to be safe, and stood to provide covering fire. "Get the convoy into the city!" It was unnecessary advice, the drivers had already begun to speed toward the city gates as soon as the dragon's attention had been diverted from them. "And get the injured onto the chopper, now!" He turned to Reno. "Man, I am so sorry. I shoulda listened to you sooner."

"I should have done something sooner. Oh fuck. Fuck." Barret loaded Cid and Cloud into the helicopter as Rude gently carried a broken and bloodied Vincent. Cloud's chest was a blooming mass of red. It was then that Reno looked up and saw. Truly saw for the first time, his partner; the body he held was limp, the eyes open and staring blankly.

He had always been told that Vincent Valentine was immortal.

What he saw made him doubt that information.

Vincent's eyes, always glowing crimson with mako, were dull and lifeless and dark blood drained from the side of his mouth. Rude's face was a picture of shock. Reno brushed Cloud's blond spikes, now liberally spattered with red, back from a too-pale face and quickly jumped back into the pilot's seat. Barret grabbed him by the arm and looked from him to Rude. "Don't give up on Vincent. When he changes...something happens. He can come back, but we gotta get him someplace safe. He'll be okay, he's done it before, he just…shuts down, kinda. And Cloud, man, he's tougher than he looks. You gotta believe." He checked Cloud for a pulse, and nodded reassuringly. Then, he moved on to Vincent, clearing the gunman's throat of blood and flesh so he could breathe.

Reno forced his hands to steady and lifted off to fly them the remaining miles. He looked back once to see Barret staunching the flow of blood from Cloud's wounds, pausing briefly to comfort a now-conscious Cid He asked Rude a question that Reno could not hear and the large man only shook his head, shifting Vincent slightly in his arms though the gunman still did not stir or wake. Barret checked his eyes and patted Rude's arm comfortingly, then looked up toward the pilot's seat.

"Damn it Reno, fly the fucking chopper! We'll tend the wounded. Cloud's alive, now get the rest of us there the same way!"

Reno took a deep breath and concentrated on getting them as close to the city as he possibly could, and hoped and prayed it would be enough.

Vincent woke to a haze of pain. He tried to move his good hand, and felt the pinch of a needle. Someone, probably Reno because he had no respect for personal space, had run an IV without asking him but he wasn't going to complain. He knew he was dehydrated and accelerated healing abilities aside, he'd feel like shit for hours if not days without it.

He, or more accurately Galian Beast, had just has his ass handed to him. He felt the familiar awkwardness of over-exposure, the uncomfortable feeling that the people around him had seen too much of him and that which lived within.

Shit. Rude. Rude had never seen him transform before. Well, this should be one hell of a conversation over the next guard duty. Assuming they ever had one. Assuming Rude decided this was a deal breaker and never spoke to him again.

He opened his eyes and found himself in what could generously be called a store room; he supposed this part of town didn't have a proper hospital, or a proper anything else. He was lying on bags of something, seed or beans or grain, covered with towels so he didn't bleed on them. How considerate. Though, it would appear that someone had also washed most of the blood off him and changed his clothes.

Someone was likely Rude, and was sitting next to him; well, maybe he wasn't so upset after all. "You're awake. You had quite a nap."

"I wish I was still having it." His mouth tasted like a bad night at a bar, or dead monster; the tastes were eerily similar. Picking up on it, Rude placed a cup of mint tea under his lip and he sipped from it until, tired from the effort, he lay back down. He heard the cup placed onto the wooden case next to him that served as a table and Rude smoothed back his matted hair. He flinched against the throbbing in his head and the burn of torn flesh.

"Need something for pain?"

"These people need their medical supplies badly enough."

"We can spare one pain shot for the man who rid us of a dragon menace that has plagued the area for some time, I believe." He craned his neck, not a comfortable effort with a fresh chunk of skin taken out of it, to see the source of the new voice. It came from a short, thin man with pale skin and straight dark hair, with the soft skin of a non-laborer. "I am Wilem Gess, leader of the town defenses, such as they are, and am eternally in your debt. Please, if you are in pain, let us do what we can."

He closed his eyes and nodded again. He wasn't nearly as masochistic as he used to be. It was just too damn exhausting. He felt someone fiddling with the IV tube and a fuzzy warmth washed over him.

"The others?" His tongue felt too large for his mouth. Speaking was difficult; he remembered why he hated narcotics.

"Cid has a broken leg. It was a clean break. The cursing was colorful, and remember, I'm used to Reno. But he'll be fine. Cloud had some nasty looking chest injuries but they missed his lungs and heart. He'll be down for a while, but he'll live."

Vincent nodded. The monster was dead and his friends would live. He dozed, then remembered something. "Who was that guy again?"

"He's in charge of defense. Barret hates him. Says he's a sneaky bastard. I think his phrase was 'slicker than bird shit on ice.'"

He chuckled and it pulled strangely on his chest. "How long before we can leave?"

"A day or so, until Cloud is a little stronger. He lost a lot of blood. Reno will probably fly us back sometime tomorrow or the next day at worst. Sleep."

It sounded like the best idea he'd heard since they left Rocket Town, or before, and so he did.

Xxx

When he woke again, the room was empty. His first sensation that hit him after the cold, was ravenous hunger. He crawled gingerly out of bed and removed the now-empty IV, found a wool cloak that someone had thoughtfully left behind, and meandered out into the town hall.

Barret saw him first and motioned him to sit, then returned with some sausage and bread, and half a pot of coffee. Halfway through it Vincent looked up to see his friend's amused expression. "Hungry?"

"The accelerated healing burns a lot of calories."

"Yeah, I guess it would. You were a bloody mess when we pulled you out of there. Rude thought you were dead. Reno too, but he was bugshit over Cloud at the mo."

"How is Cloud?"

"Still out like a light, poor kid. Nothin' like trekkin' over the mountains right by your burned up home town in the dead of winter for two days to go down as a dragon snack. Talk about your shit weeks. Cid got off easy with a broke leg."

Nobody put things quite like Barret Wallace.

"By the by, Rude is helping guard the distribution of the food. He'd feel better, seein' ya up and around."

Vincent walked out of the kitchen into the thin cold light of morning. It was nice to see that Rude's glare was effective as ever against those who though that their social status in the town entitled them to a larger share of the spoils.

Rude was harder to impress than that.

"Morning."

"Morning. How do you feel?"

"Like I was run over by a truck. Or a dragon. I hear Cloud is well, but still out."

"He should be good to travel by this afternoon."

"Are you all right with what happened yesterday?"

"The demon thing, or thinking you were dead?"

"The ah, demon thing."

"I already knew that about you. As long as you aren't going to do that if we run out of merlot, we're good. Thinking you were dead, not so much." Rude nodded at a rookie to take his place in the line and the two men walked off a few paces.

Vincent's voice was barely above a whisper as he surveyed the town square, a chaotic mess of churned dirt and arguing humanity. "I thought it had already taken Cid and Cloud, I couldn't let the rest of the convoy..." I couldn't let it take you.

Truly, he'd have let himself be ripped to pieces on the desert sand before he'd have given Rude up to that thing. And he very nearly had.

Rude only nodded.

"You might want to keep an extra case of merlot, just to be safe. And coffee."

"I'll keep that in mind." He reached out a finger and traced down a long fresh scar the color of salmon, still healing, but whatever else he might have said was cut off by Barret chasing down the Captain of the Corel guards.

"Gess! Gess you slimy little worm! This is what you call a minor fucking dragon problem?" The small, pale man cringed as Barret waved his gun arm in the middle of the square. "And just how many of my friends have to get eaten for a major one? That scaly bitch shoulda eaten you, you little asstard! Come back here when I'm..."

His cursing faded into the distance as they turned and walked back into warmth of the kitchen, to be met by Reno bearing the news that Cloud was ready to go home.