A/N: Hey Strangers. Here I am with the third and final part in this trilogy of oneshots. I was thinking about this, about how I could have just made this whole thing a three chapter story...but I didn't think of that at the time. Sigh. Oh well, I'm silly...and insane. The test results said so. Anyway, these stories have corrupted my ability to write Warren as a sweet dork in a new Marren story I've been working on...I was writing it and he turned into the tattooed, drug-making, depressed alcoholic that I've written him as here...Daaaaamn iiiiit. Maybe now that I'm finishing this up I'll be able to make Warren the goofy, adorable, nerd that he is. And Nathan...I like him the way he is.

BTW, Episode 3 comes out soon. So excite. Much anticipate. Wow choices.

Oh, and I'm sorry. I'm batshit crazy.

Warning: Alcohol Use, Harsh Language, Sexual/Rape Implications

Enjoy?

Tonight

by

xLazyxWriterx

The steam could have been mistaken for clouds. The humidity in the air was heavy and hot, practically suffocating. The mirrors were heavily fogged over, and the walls were dripping for the moisture in the air. The water fell quick and harsh from the shower head, the noise becoming a mere buzzing in his ear. The near boiling droplets washed over his sore muscles and massaging his pale skin. The scent of metallic sweat floated in the misty air as blood and water mixed, running down his face, down his chest, his legs, and flowing down the drain.

Nathan Prescott pressed against the cool wall within the shower, his breathing irregular and his eyes closed. Water rushed through his brown locks, dripping over his eyes down to his chin. He was afraid to move, or to open his eyes...Was any of this real? His fingers twitched against the tiles as his toes curled. The heat enveloped him in a smothering embrace causing him to shudder lightly. His senses were numbed, fuzzy. He opened his weary blue eyes to stare down at the drain and the swirling colors of red. His chin quivered, and he managed to push away from the walls and rub at his eyes.

Nathan could hear him moving around down stairs. He could hear doors shutting and foot steps. Some grunts, and a few whispers. Nathan bit his lip, wrapping his arms around himself as though he were catching a chill. His fingers scratched at his raw arm, sending tingling pains through his nerves. He told himself to stop, but his fingers continued to tear at his flesh. He exhaled deeply, reaching for the shampoo. He needed to keep his hands occupied. He squirted the thick soap into his palm. He rubbed his hands together before working it through his thick hair. The shampoo lathered up nicely as he rubbed at his scalp. The scent of mint leaves and driftwood filled his nostrils causing him to cringe. What a familiar smell...

Fuck...

Nathan rinsed, the soap flowing down his shoulders and back. He squeezed some body wash into his hands, running them over his chest and down his arms. The soap stung the cuts on his arm, but he ignored it. He needed it all off. He scrubbed at his face, careful to avoid his eyes, before rubbing his sore fingers across his stomach. Luckily, the body wash didn't have a heavy scent. He wasn't sure if he could handle another overwhelming memory trigger.

He allowed the steaming water to wash the soap from his body. He heard more footsteps, as well as a small crash followed by a few cusses. He couldn't help the twitch at the corner of his lips.

More footsteps, and they were coming upstairs. Nathan's body tensed, and he held his breath. He didn't have anything to fear, really; it was just a force of habit within the walls of this place. After all, he was gone. Nathan's eyes peeked open. He was gone...No, not yet. He was still there down in the basement. Nathan's heart pumped faster within his heavy chest.

Mark Jefferson was still there. Nathan could - always - feel it. It had become a sixth sense after the past year. Jefferson's presence would always cause his body to freeze, his heart to skip, his chest to ache, his head to throb, his throat to tighten. His anxiety cast it's shadow over his entire being, and he became a shell. A puppet...A puppet in which Jefferson controlled. Jefferson knew the right strings to pull, and what to say, and Nathan obeyed. He didn't have a choice, and it was fucking hell. He wanted to cut his strings and run for so long...and he finally did it.

There was a light knock of the door. Nathan exhaled harshly as the door was pushed open. "Hey - jesus." Nathan peeked out from behind the white shower curtain at the voice. He could feel the rush of cold air swirling within the steam.

Warren Graham stood in the doorway, pulling at the front of his black, long sleeved shirt due to the sudden wash of heat. Nathan pulled the curtain back a bit so that his head poked through, and he could fully make out Warren's form through the white steam. Beads of sweat were already forming across Warren's brow, and he had a stack of clothes in his arms. He looked down at the pile of Nathan's bloodied clothing on the ground.

"I brought you these," Warren said, setting them on the sink before scooping up the dirty ones, except the shoes. Nathan noticed that he was wearing black gloves. "Hope these weren't special." Nathan shook his head slightly. There was so much he wanted to ask; What are you doing down there? What are we gonna do about the body? How are we gonna get out of this? Are we totally fucked? Do we have to skip town? Tonight? There was so much he wanted to say, but fuck, what was he supposed to say? Thanks, man, for blowing that fucker so he wouldn't fuck me? You're a real pal?

Nathan pushed his sopping hair out of his eyes and studied Warren. Moisture shined on his skin, and his dark hair was beginning to stick to his forehead and ears. Warren folded the clothes neatly before glancing up at Nathan. "Feel any better?" he asked while placing the folded clothes over his arms.

Nathan rubbed at his face before nodded, words escaping him at the moment. Warren nodded with him, and Nathan knew he was concerned. Whether he was concerned for the situation or for Nathan - maybe even both - Nathan wasn't sure. Warren rubbed his brow before turning to leave.

"Come down when you're ready." he said before leaving, shutting the bathroom door behind him.

The water was no longer boiling when Nathan shut the shower off. He stood there letting the water drip down his body before mustering enough strength to pull back the curtain. He carefully stepped out of the tub while grabbing a towel.

Footsteps, and a few mumbles. Nathan dried off, somewhat. The moisture in the air made sure that his skin was still damp by the time he reached for the clean boxers. He tried to push the idea of who's boxers they once were as he slipped them on.

Once he was fully dressed in a white T-shirt and a pair of black slacks, he opened the door. He was greeted by a wave of cool, fresh air. He shivered, goosebumps rising along his cheeks. He used his towel to cry his hair as he stepped out to take a deep breath. That's right, in and out...

Warren was moving around downstairs, and Nathan's pulse picked up. How the fuck were they going to get out of this?

Yes, plenty of people get away with murder, and with his connections, Nathan probably could, too. It was the other things that worried him, like the the pictures of him and Kate and - fuckfuckfuck - and...and well, Warren. Warren didn't have the connections that Nathan had, and he would make the perfect scapegoat. Everything could be pinned on him; the drugs, the money, they girls, Jefferson's murder, and everything in between. Nathan could easily get away and blame it all on Warren, and he could put it all behind him.

Nathan Prescott was many things; rich, spoiled, privileged, arrogant, angry, insecure, mean, insensitive, and an overall asshole. But, after all the fucking shit he endured, and the living hell that he walked through everyday for the past year...well, he didn't do it by himself. Warren was always there to share the misery. Warren got him through so many panic attacks, as well as physical attacks from Jefferson. They had their differences, yeah, but so what? They endured it together, and Nathan would be damned if he let Warren take the fall for anything that had happened.

Fuck, so what if they got caught? They would tell their story, and then everyone would know the real Mark Jefferson, the sick fucker that took sexual pleasure in the limp bodies of girls before savoring the experience forever within photos. The sick fucker who used drug money to fund his sick fetishes, the sick fucker who ruined the lives of girls like Kate - Kate - and Rachel, the sick fucker who killed Rachel, the sick fucker that tied him up and destroyed Kate on top of him and took pictures of it, the sick fucker that thought he could get away with trying to fuck Warren... Everyone would know the real Mark Jefferson, and believe it. They would believe it if the Prescott's wanted them to believe it, and Nathan would be deemed a hero who popped the villain.

If it came down to it, Nathan would save Warren. He would get his family's support - fuck - and they would be clean. Nathan wouldn't abandon Warren. He wasn't that much of an asshole.

But, they were getting out of it. Warren had a plan, and it was going to work. Nathan had to believe it - all of it - if he was going to keep his sanity. Well, what was left of it.

Nathan sighed, his fists tightening at his sides.

They were getting the fuck out of here.

Well, if they were going to pull this off, tonight was as good as any night. Although, Warren wished that he had more time for preparation, but was glad that he had done as much as he did with what he had.

By the time Warren arrived a block away from Jefferson's home a mere hour and a half ago, his car was packed with gloves, a package of barbeque lighters, a pocket knife, a roll of trash bags, seven full gas cans, one jug of bleach, and a bottle of cheap whiskey. His gut had told him to get everything they needed today, and his gut had been right.

It was dark outside now, and Warren made sure to turn off all porch lights on the house. The house next to them was far enough away the Warren could sneak around outside and not be directly seen. After sending Nathan upstairs to shower and pull himself together, Warren went out to his car. He drove without his lights on into the driveway, behind Jefferson's car. Warren hadn't thought of anything to do with Jefferson's car, but he knew that he couldn't just leave it. Then there was the issue of Nathan's car, but he would deal with that in a minute.

He had gone inside to grab Jefferson's keys, and he searched every nook and cranny of that car. He found cash, about fifty bucks, and some pictures. They were surprisingly clean pictures of Rachel, and Warren was disgusted at the confidence Jefferson had to keep them in his glove box.

After gathering the important things, Warren left the car alone. He had been wearing his gloves, and neither him nor Nathan even sat in his vehicle, so he didn't worry too much about it.

Still in the dark, Warren had dragged everything, excluding one of the gas cans, from his car inside. After setting the last the last gas can down, he sighed while rubbing eyes. This was actually happening, but Warren felt as though it hadn't actually hit him yet. Like, Jefferson wasn't really still the in basement, or that he wasn't about to burn down the house that haunted his darkest nightmares. It was surreal...like a movie...

"I had this incredibly bizzaro experience in Mr Jefferson's class today..."

Warren's heart thudded hard in his chest to the point of aching.

"I mean, life changing...Have you ever had a dream that felt so real is was like a movie?"

Max had asked him that the day before Kate tried to kill herself. He remembered feeling his heart skid to a stop at the mention of Jefferson's class, and thinking that the fucker wouldn't try something so stupid and sloppy, but he had a feeling that wasn't it. Max wouldn't been much more beaten up if it had, but he never did find out what the bizzaro experience was, and he decided that he never would. Then, Nathan had come along and picked a fight. Warren could tell he had been off his meds, especially when he suddenly headbutted him before even realizing who he was. Warren could still remember the confused expression across Nathan's face as he stared down at him. The headbutt hadn't hurt that bad, honestly, it had just caught him off guard. The punch to the eye, though...that had hurt. Nathan was just pissed that Warren would dare to stop him from making an ass of himself.

At the time, Warren could have answered Max's question easily: Yes. Everything that happened down in Jefferson's basement had been a horror show, and he and Nathan were the audience...and sometimes, even the actors. Even now, none of it seemed like a plausible reality.

After tonight, it was just going to be a forgotten nightmare. At least, Warren hoped so.

And, after tonight, he was going to cut his ties with Max. Not right away, but over time. He would be himself, the real him, and slowly create a gap in their friendship. She shouldn't be associated with some one like him, and he was going to make sure that she wouldn't be. It was over, as much as it hurt Warren to realize.

After getting a hold of himself, he searched Jefferson's room. The room was clean, neat, and everything seemed to be white and blue. That fucking blue. Warren searched his closet and drawers but turned up nothing. He even checked in between the mattresses, and went as far as to rip them open using the pocket knife. That part was a bit silly, but he decided that he couldn't be too careful. Warren didn't bother searching the computer; when the night was over, no one would get that piece of shit working. But, Warren did find Jefferson's secret stash of cash. Warren counted a little over one thousand. He pocketed it for later. After turning up nothing but money, Warren gathered some clothes to bring to Nathan. After all, Nathan couldn't change back into his old clothes. They were covered in blood and would need to be burned in case things didn't go completely according to plan. It would be shitty if they got caught and Nathan was caked in blood.

Nathan had been in the shower for about ten minutes before Warren knocked. The bathroom was what Warren guessed those saunas felt like because it caused him to instantly sweat. He was actually surprised that Nathan had bothered to look at him from behind the curtain when he spoke. He sure as hell was having a hard time looking Nathan in the eye. Fuck, he didn't know what to say. What could he say? Thanks, bro, for popping that dick in the face before he came in my mouth? The very thought made Warren's stomach churn and the bitter taste come back on his tongue. He would have to thank him, eventually, after all this shit blew over.

Until then, he needed to focus on getting the two of them the fuck out of this god forsaken house.

He searched Nathan's pants for his keys, and ended up driving his car out to Hayden's place. He knew no one would think twice about Nathan's car being parked by Hayden's house, and it wasn't too far from Jefferson's place. After turning off the car, Warren sighed. He would have to run back to the house, and running wasn't a favorite thing of his. But, he didn't really have a choice. Warren jogged back to the house. He made it back in time to hear the water of Nathan's shower shut off, and he stopped long enough to catch his breath, wiping his damp forehead and licking his dry lips.

Juggling a gas can, a bottle of bleach, and a roll of trash bags, Warren went down to the basement. Jefferson was where they left him, and the room stunk with the odor of death. Warren shivered at the cool air in contrast to his clammy skin, setting the gas can down. He ripped one of the bags off the roll, shaking it open. One by one, he began loading the red binders into the trash bag. Warren had spent many hours working on the binders for Jefferson. He had to stare at the photos of those horrible nights as he pasted them on the pages, and if that wasn't enough, he had to write down all the details. Jefferson had told him that he wanted to read and look through the binders and remember every sensation, so he had better do a good job. The constant worried thought of whether they would be finished in time would no longer be an issue, though.

Once the binders were all in the bag, he moved to the desk drawers. Jefferson kept scrap pictures in there, and they needed to be destroyed along with any materials used. Warren couldn't take any chances.

Warren heard the stairs creaking, and he turned to see Nathan. Nathan's eyes were on the body, and his expression was unreadable. His hair was still damp and sticking to his forehead rather than pushed back into his usual style. Warren pulled the extra gloves out of his back pocket and offered them to Nathan. When Nathan wouldn't look at him, Warren leaned over an nudged him. Nathan's head whipped around to face him, his cheeks and nose red. He took the gloves cautiously without question, slipping them on.

Warren gestured to the trash bag full of binders and Nathan's clothes. "My car is parked in the driveway. Put these to the back seat, please." he tied the bag closed, handing it to Nathan. Nathan gave him a quizzical look, glancing at the gas can.

"Why not burn them here?" Nathan asked.

"They might not burn in time. If the police find any traces of them they may track it back to us. We're gonna burn them separate." Warren answered.

"Oh." Nathan's voice was quiet as he eyed the bag. Warren could tell he wanted to say something, but he didn't push it. Nathan left, and Warren rubbed at his tired eyes with the back of his wrist. He followed Nathan up the stairs, leaving the gas can and bleach next to the body.

Warren waited for Nathan to return before saying, "I can't find the pictures. I searched his bedroom and found nothing. Do you know if he had a safe or anything?" Nathan thought for a moment before shaking his head. Warren sighed. He figured that Jefferson wouldn't keep them anywhere in the kitchen or living room, but they were out of options. "Check the kitchen, I'll check here." he said, walking to the living room without waiting for a reply.

The living room was small; a plasma TV sitting on a black TV stand, two white couches placed on top of a creme colored rug, a bookshelf with various movies and books, a wooden coffee table, and various posters framed on the walls. Warren began checking under the rug, in the couch cushions, under the couch, behind the TV and TV stand, and even behind the framed posters. He was hoping that his life would have a plot convenience for once, and he would find a built-in safe behind one of the posters, but no such luck. Warren was beginning to get frustrated and dizzy. He wasn't sure how much time they had left, and even if he did say fuck it to the pictures, what if they were protected and didn't burn. The police would find them, and Nathan would become a suspect and his reputation would be ruined, among other terrible things.

Maybe Jefferson didn't keep them in the house. Fuck, where else would he keep them? The school? Jefferson wouldn't be that stupid. Warren began tearing books and movies down from the bookshelf, opening them before chucking them over his shoulder. He was half way through the third shelf when he pulled out a copy of The Americans. Warren froze.

What the hell? Oh, sure, Jefferson wouldn't keep the photos in a safe behind his Falling Soldier poster, but he would keep them in a worn out copy of The Americans? Warren scoffed. Plot convenience, his ass.

There were eight photos in his hand, and they caused him to cringe. The top picture was of Kate with her face buried in Nathan's chest in only her bra while Nathan was bound and blind folded. Memories flashed though Warren's mind as his throat tightened, and he could practically hear the muffled cries and slapping of wet skin from that night. That fucking night...

Warren glared at the pictures as he tried to tear them all in half, but Jefferson wasn't cheap when it came to developing photos. The paper was thick, so Warren ripped them apart one by one. He tried to avoid looking directly at them as he did so, only catching glimpses of Kate's unconscious face and Nathan's blindfolded eyes. His fingers froze when he was down to the last three pictures. His entirely body tensed, his heart jerked irregularly in his chest, his eyes widened, and his mouth parted in a silent gasp of disbelief as shock rushed through his veins. What the-

"Fuck," Nathan cursed from the kitchen.

This...this wasn't-

Nathan emerged from the kitchen, standing in doorway with tired eyes, running his fingers through his still damp hair. "There's fucking noth- ...nothing."

Before Warren could register what Nathan had said, Nathan was tearing the photos from his trembling fingers. The action startled Warren, almost causing him to fall back. With a panicked expression, Nathan tore the pictures into shreds. Warren watched the pieces fall through Nathan's fingers. Nathan turned around, and Warren heard him release what sounded like a disgruntled sob. Nathan's hands were tangled in his hair, and he visibly shook.

Panic rose in Warren's chest. Nathan was going to have another panic attack! Fuck, they didn't have time for it! Warren rubbed at his eyes, trying to push the images out of his head. He couldn't deal with that at the moment; not if they wanted to survive this shit. He couldn't let Nathan or himself have a mental breakdown, not now.

Warren reached out to firmly grasp Nathan's shoulder, whirling him around to face him. Nathan's breath came out in short, irregular gasps as he met Warren's eyes. "Nathan, it's okay. We're fine. We will talk about this later, but right now we need to hurry. We don't have a lot of time." Warren's words came out quickly and he was trying to keep his tone from wavering. Nathan pushed him back, taking a few steps away. Warren frowned. There was so much he wanted to ask him, but couldn't. There just wasn't enough fucking time!

"Nathan, breathe, remember? In and out." Warren inhaled, and Nathan nodded, inhaling with him. Within a few seconds, Nathan was breathing normally again, but still wouldn't look at his directly. Warren scooped up the shredded pictures, balling them up before stuffing them into his pocket.

"I need you to take a gas can and drench everything you can in the bedroom and bathroom, okay? The bed, his clothes, the computer, just everything! I'll do the basement." Warren said, waiting for Nathan to reply. Nathan seemed to be in a daze, completely focused on his breathing, but he managed to give a light nod before reaching for a gas can. Warren watched him go up the stairs before making his way back downstairs.

It seemed like the scent of death was stronger each time he entered the basement. Warren unscrewed the cap to the gas can, and proceeded to soak Jefferson in gasoline. The heady, intoxicating smell of the gas made him both giddy and nauseous at the same time as the liquid slapped against the cold ground. Warren drenched the desk, the couch, and the bookcase before the can was empty. Next, he opened the bleach and continued to soak the body. His chest was beginning to ache from the constant, harsh pounding of his strained heart, and his nerves were starting to make him lightheaded. Or, maybe that was the mixture of bleach and gasoline. Either way, it was almost time.

Warren dug his phone out of his pocket. He dialed the number he memorized that morning. After three rings before it was answered.

"Yeah?" A tired voice yawned.

"Hey, it's Warren," he said, his tone obviously anxious. "Uh, there's been a change of plans."

"Uh..."

Warren waited impatiently, looking up at the clock on the wall.

"Wait, who?" The voice mumbled right before yawning.

"Warren Graham, remember? We talked this morning." Warren didn't bother hiding his annoyance. "Look, change of plans, okay? I need you to burn down the church tonight?"

There was a short silence before Warren heard a small, knowing gasp on the other line. "Oh, yeah, yeah! I remember! Tonight, huh? Hmmm, I dunno..."

Warren rolled his eyes, rubbing his cheek with his free hand, feeling the roughness of his stubble. "It's an emergency, okay? I know I said next week but something happened. I'm willing to throw in something extra nice if you can get there and do it in the next ten minutes or so. I don't care how, just do it."

"Extra special, huh? How special we talkin?'"

Warren bit his lip. "$500, special."

There was a whistle followed by the bark of a dog in the background. "Alrighty, kid. Don't know what ya got 'gainst the church, but hey, I don't care. Jus' remember, I don't take kindly to empty promises."

"You'll get your money, Frank. Just do it. Now."

"Heh, alright. See ya soon, kid."

With that, Warren hung up. Without a second thought, he shoved his phone back into his pocket and ran up stairs. He hoped that Frank would hold up his end of the bargain, and he was really glad that he found Jefferson's stash. At least he wouldn't have to try and scrounge up a total of $1,300. He was sure Nathan could help, but still. Warren pushed those thoughts out of his mind as he grabbed another gas can. He soaked as much as he could of the living room before moving onto the kitchen. At this point, there were only two cans left.

Nathan came down the stairs with the empty can. Warren handed him another can. "His car." he said simply. Nathan nodded before heading outside. Warren silently prayed that there wasn't anyone out and about at this time of night. With the last can in his hands, he tried to think of an other area that they missed. He settle for double soaking the basement.

Nathan came back in, huffing. Warren emptied the last of the gasoline before meeting Nathan. He rubbed his gloved hands together, wondering how they could be cold at a time like this.

"I took your car and parked it at Hayden's house. No one was home, so it's fine." Warren said, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out Nathan's keys, as well as his own. Nathan took them both without a word. Warren looked around at the house, and he was starting to get dizzy from the heavy scent of gas.

"Okay," he said. "It's time. Nathan, start the car when I give you the signal, and make sure all your lights are off. Get ready to go when I come out." Warren looked Nathan in the eye, searching for any sign of hesitation or question. All he saw was determination and understanding.

Nathan nodded at him, his grasp on the keys tight, before saying, "Let's burn this fucker down." With that, Nathan ran out of the house.

A few minutes passed, and Warren was getting antsy. When his phone finally vibrated, he about dropped it into a pool of gasoline when he yanked it from his pocket.

"Yeah?"

"We got fucking fireworks, kid! Woo!" Warren could hear a few other voices in the background yelling and laughing. Warren let out a sigh of relief; that was much quicker than he had anticipated, thank god.

Warren did feel bad about burning down a church, and he was sure that he had earned his first class ticket to hell that way, but it didn't matter. Burning down a church would be enough to occupy the police and firemen while they burned Jefferson's house down. Fires didn't happen lots in Arcadia Bay so this sure as hell would be an incident for everyone to talk about tomorrow. A Catholic church and the home of photography genius Mark Jefferson burning down at the same time? Fuck.

"'Kay, now get the fuck out of there. Expect your money this weekend." Warren said.

"Haha! Fuck yeah!" Warren heard more laughter before hearing sirens off in the distance. Warren's stomach dropped, and he hung up the phone.

With one of the barbeque lighters gripped tightly in his hand, he couldn't help but smirk.

Tonight, this fucker burns.

Nathan could hear the distant sounds of police sirens, and terror rose up in his chest. Millions of thoughts raced through his pounding head. How the hell did they know? Did some one hear guns shots and call? Did someone see them sneaking around in the darkness and think it was a robbery? Fuck, did some one see and recognize them? What the fuck was Warren doing?

Nathan glanced back at the trash bag and gas can in the back seat, wondering if they really got everything. The pictures that Warren found crossed his mind, and he cringed. Shit, of course Warren had to be the one to find them. Not only that, but he fuck saw them. Nathan was hoping that he could spare Warren the details of that night, but now he wouldn't have a choice - GOD DAMMIT - but to tell him. He thought after Jefferson was gone - down in the dark depths of hell - that he would be able to forget everything. He could be normal again, but damn it, it was never going to be that easy. Every time he looked at Warren or Kate - Kate - he would remember that night and the torture he suffered. How was he suppose to forget that...?

Nathan stared at the open door and could see nothing but darkness until a figure moved. He sat up straight while gripping the wheel, squinting. A sudden flash of a small light - a lighter? - caught his eye, and he went rigid. The sign, fuck, this was happening! Nathan quickly started Warren's car, making sure that all his lights were off.

Nathan flinched at the sudden brightness that overtook the upper part of the house. The bedroom and the bathroom, right? Nathan began scratching at his scarred arm, eyes intensely focused on the flames. Nathan put the car into drive, ready to release the break at any given second. Moments later, flames consumed the rest of the inner rooms, and Warren came fleeing out of the burning home, coughing.

Warren swung the door open, hopping in, and Nathan released the break and slammed on the gas before Warren could even close his door. They sped down the street, and Nathan could see the waves of light in the rear view mirror. For the first time in so long, relief washed over him. Relief that Jefferson was gone and that Warren was beside him, panting and smelling of smoke.

Nathan looked over at him. "You okay?" he asked, taking a turn a bit too fast. Fuck, he forgot to put his seat belt on.

Nathan was surprised when Warren let out a heavy laugh. "I almost blew myself up, god dammit!" Warren pulled his gloved off and rubbed at his face, still chuckling. Nathan suspected that setting a house on fire caused Warren's adrenaline levels to sky rocket, and he couldn't blame the pyromaniac. Nathan couldn't help but snicker.

Warren unrolled his window and stuck his arm out, enjoying the cool air. The sounds of ambulances and fire trucks was heard, but neither cared.

"Go to the junkyard. We still have stuff to do." Warren said, jerking his thumb back at the trash bag. "And you can probably turn your lights back on. We're far enough."

With that, Nathan turned his lights on and drove to the junkyard. They arrived in about eight minutes, driving right in through the unlocked gates. Nathan hoped that no one decided to come down and have a bonfire, but from the looks of it, the area was clear.

Nathan shut the car off, and Warren got out. They grabbed the trash bag and gas can, bringing them over to an empty bonfire spot. One by one, the binders were wet with gas and then burned.

Nathan and Warren stared into the small sea of flames, enjoying the heat compared to the coolness of the night. Sirens continued to play in the distance. Nathan grabbed a binder and tossed it into the fire, watched it roar into the air before settling. The corner of his lips twitched up.

"How the fuck did you almost blow yourself up?" he asked, slightly amused.

Warren scratched the back of his head. "Gas and bleach is a deadly combination." he replied.

"Damn, man." Nathan snickered, eying Warren. Warren still stunk of smoke and gasoline, and his hair was a mess. His skin was smeared with a dark residue, likely from the smoke. He had a tired yet content look in his eyes, and it put Nathan at peace. All the anxiety was wiped out of his senses, and his body felt heavy. For the first time tonight, his heart beat at a regular pace, and his head didn't rush with hurried thoughts.

Warren threw a binder into the flames, using a branch that he found to poke at the fire. Ashes flew up into the sky, swirling around in a heated dance. As Nathan watched the ashes, Warren went back to the car and came back with a bottle of cheap whiskey. He broke the seal, taking a swig, groaning at the burning taste. He offered the bottle to Nathan, who accepted it and took a sip, the liquid burning his tongue and throat.

They were down to the last few binders when Nathan picked up Kate's. Kate. His fingernails dug into the red cover, and all anxiety came rushing back to him. Warren noticed his hesitation, and peered down at the binder in his hand. Nathan ran his thumb over the name, biting his lip. Her unconscious face came back to him. She had moaned the entire time they were in the car, and the had grasped his tightly when he carried her into the house...down to the basement.

Nathan hadn't wanted to bring her down there. He had thought about really taking her to the hospital, but knew that he couldn't. If he hadn't, Warren might not be standing with him...they wouldn't be free. The weight - the guilt - would still be thrust upon their shoulders, and it would never stop. He had tried to stop it, though...and look what happened. Kate...Warren...Fuck, nothing was ever going to be the same. That night...

"Hey," Warren's voice broke Nathan out of his thoughts. Nathan tore his gaze from the name and met Warren's eyes, instantly regretting it. He wished that Warren hadn't found those pictures...that he hadn't saw...

A heavy awkward silence surrounded them, and Nathan kept the binder in his hands. Warren sighed softly.

"What happened that night?" he asked quietly.

Nathan felt as though he had been stabbed in the chest by a broken piece of glass, and he swallowed harshly. He figured this time would come, but he didn't think it would be here. He thought he would be telling it to his therapist after his second or third divorce and mental breakdown. His arm burned, and the urge to tear at his flesh was overwhelming.

Nathan eyes stung as he said, "After he knocked you out, he...he started just wailing of me. He...he had that pocket knife, and he told me to lose my clothes. All of them." Warren offered him the bottle, and Nathan took another swig, the burn less painful. "Then, he tied me up. He kept...telling me all these things about her. Fuck, it was sickening." Another swig. "He took her, and he put her on me...and he just...started. He took pictures, saying how awful it would be if anyone knew what I did to her..."

Warren crossed his arms over his chest, listening intently. Nathan cleared his throat, blinking rapidly. "When he was finished with her...he said..." Nathan sighed. "...He said that I needed to be punished for my actions." Nathan took another drink, and Warren grabbed the bottle from him. Nathan's teeth sunk deeply into his bottom lip. The flames were getting lower, so Warren tossed another gas-soaked binder into the pile, the flames reanimating with joy.

"That motherfucker." Warren mumbled bitterly.

Nathan shook his head, rubbing his right eye. "Yeah," he spat. "He kept saying I would lose the Prescott name if my father ever knew... ever saw those pictures."

That fucking night... When Nathan thought it would be over - it was never over - and he would be left alone... Jefferson had another sick trick up his sleeve. Jefferson had pulled him off the ground by his hair after tossing Kate aside. He had torn the blindfold off his eyes, and pulled the gag out of his mouth. Nathan had been so exhausted that he didn't even bother screaming or cussing. He didn't want to give Jefferson the satisfaction. Jefferson had dragged him over to where Warren was passed out on the couch, and he could remember the fear the spiked in his heart. Jefferson had ran his hands all over Warren, untying him and releasing his gag all while spewing disgusting sexual words. Warren's head had been dripping with blood, and Nathan had worried that he was dead before he heard Warren groan.

Jefferson loved women. That was a given...but, sometimes, they weren't enough.

Nathan had finally cussed at him what Jefferson unzipped Warren's jeans. Jefferson had smirked at him, assuring him that he wasn't going to do anything to hurt Warren. When the realization his Nathan, he tried to will his weak legs to move away, but it was too late. Jefferson had already pulled Warren's flaccid dick out and shoved Nathan's face forward.

Jefferson had taken plenty of pictures as Nathan choked and gagged on Warren. The worst part was that Warren's body had reacted to the treatment, and that Jefferson had been into cumshots.

When it was all over, Jefferson had placed his hand on Nathan's wet cheek, using his thumb to spread the thick white liquid while he whispered threats into his ear. He them took his thumb and stuck it in his mouth, savoring the taste. He tucked Warren back into his jeans and untied Nathan, picked up Kate and left, locking them in the basement. Nathan had used to sheet to cover himself, and curled up under the desk.

"Fuck," Warren grumbled. Nathan blinked before rubbing at his freshly wet cheeks. Kate's binder had little droplets on it, and Nathan let out a shaky breath. With one more look over of her name, he tossed it into the fine. The flames swallowed the pages and erased the images for existence.

Warren reached into his pocket and pulled out the scraps of the pictures. He tossed them into the fire, and they instantly curled into ashes, flying up into the night sky.

"I'm sorry, Nathan." Warren whispered. "For everything."

Nathan nodded. "Me, too."

They were silent as they burned the rest of the binders. The sirens had become quiet, the only noise filling the air was the cracking of the fire.

"...Do we leave?" Nathan asked.

"Not right away," Warren took a sip of the whiskey. "Two fires and the disappearance of a Prescott would be too much. We'll go to school tomorrow and hope for the best."

"...And if they figure us out?"

"...Then, I guess it's prison for me and therapy for you-"

"You're not going to prison."

"Heh, yeah-"

"I won't let that happen."

"..."

"We're going to be fine, remember?"

"...Yeah."

The fire died down, and darkness surrounded them once again.

And they lived happily ever after... HA! Just kidding. They're traumatized for life.

I'm such a bitch. XD

Thanks for reading!

xLazyxWriterx