Blood Shall Flow

by iwriterandomthings

Sweeney tries to analyse why he take such pride in his work when all his is doing is taking the souls of innocent song birds.

A/N: To all my House fan fic lovers, I'm sorry, but this had to be done.

Recently I saw the movie Sweeney Todd and went completely head over heels for it (then again, who wouldn't?) I loved it enough to write this story about it. I really don't know, there's just something in the dark, anti social characters that attracts me. Maybe its just because they are fun to write about and you can explore so many sides of them.

Description: Sweeney tries to analyse why he take such pride in his work when all his is doing is taking the souls of innocent song birds.

A/N (again): Sorry for the "To Kill a Mockingbird" reference. I'm reading right now for English.

"Blood Shall Flow"

A Sweeney Todd FanFic

Chapter One

"From One Hardship, Boasts Another"

Mrs. Lovett shooed the last customer of the day out the door, sighing deeply as she did so. Her feet ached horribly, but she went on. She made short work of cleaning up the plates left by ravenous people. She whistled a happy tune as she went around the tables picking up dishes until there was a big stack of white porcelain in her arms. She dumped the dishes into the washtub and walked over to one of the booths. She collapsed into the rough leather and relaxed a bit. She kicked off the downright painful shoes and relished the relief it brought. She was thoroughly exhausted. She had never seen this many customers enter this dump in her life. She rested her elbows on the dusty tabletop and propped her chin on her hands. Before she knew it, she found herself glancing out the aged lace curtain onto the steadily darkening streets.

CLANK!

The sudden of the noise jerked her out of her daze and made her snap her head around to see the source of the racket. Toby was coming out of the parlor with a steaming pot of fresh tea and three cups. His rickety, half-drunken stance was nearly his downfall. He seemed to trip over air and came close to falling flat on his face. Some of the boiling liquid spilled on his apron, creating a large wet stain, and he nearly sent a cup clattering to the ground.

These cups were special, her favorites, they were eggshell white with hand painted roses embellishing the sides, and ornate gold splashed on the handles. They were a present from times long passed; her mother had given them to her when she was just a young girl. 'Toby must have been raiding my china cabinet' she thought. It was both a sweet gesture and a slight invasion of privacy. She figured it must have been easy to mistake them for every-day china. The cups were far from their former glory. They had many chips around the rims and the paint was dull and faded. It made her feel old, 'Why does it feel like so long ago?'

He lined up the three cups on the table and poured a nearly equal amount into each one. The heavenly scent of tea soon took over the shop, overpowering the sickening stench of minced meat left out on the counter. She picked up her cup and sniffing it, taking in the delectable aroma before taking a sip. She didn't even notice herself beginning to stare absent-mindedly at the extra cup.

"I'll just take this up to Mr. T" Toby said, he finally was breaking the silence. He reached for the cup but Mrs. Lovett slapped his hand away.

"It's alright deary." Toby backed away a bit confused. "I'll do it 'me self. I need to talk with him anyway." She took the cup into her hand, her long and delicate fingers looping around its handle. She smirked a bit when she closed the door and left Toby alone in the shop. 'Hopefully that lad will keep his grimy paws off the gin…for once.' she thought to her self. She scurried up the stairs like she had so many times before, only this time there was the added difficulty of trying not to spill tea all over her bodice. She accomplished her task and made it safely to the landing.

The tinkling of the tarnished bell met her merrily when she opened the door. The only thing was what she saw inside, made her stop in her tracks. Sweeney was awkwardly sprawled out in the barber chair, in what appeared to be his haphazard way of sleeping. There was something though, just in the expression on his face that scared her. She stepped as silently as her bare feet would allow and set the cup on the stove in the corner. She remained there for a moment, captivated by his stark, yet comforting form.

For some reason she felt drawn to him, like iron to a magnet. She picked up his hand and held it in her own. Shivers coursed down her spine. He was so cold. She softly stroked the callused skin of his finger and reflected on when times were good. To think, this hollow shell of a man, now going by the name of Sweeney Todd, was once the kind, handsome, and charming Benjamin Barker. She always noticed how he always had the most beautiful soft hands. Suddenly, those dark and hollow eyes flew open and he ripped his hand back from her grip. He gave her a menacing stare, but she was the only one who could notice the tiniest twinkle of hurt, far off and hidden in the background.

"Get out! Get out you insane woman!" he yelled. She was frozen in place, staring at him wide eyed in fear. She had never seen him like this, sure she had seen him mad, but this was different, he was truly angry. He stood up quickly and with a flash he flicked out one of his friends from the holster attached to his hip. He approached her, his frenzied footfalls echoing throughout out the room. He forced her up against a wall, she shrieked as his fingers dug into the pale flesh above her shoulder. He pushed the blunt end of the razor to her throat.

"Get out." He grumbled and pulled away. She hurried out the door, nearly in tears, she had meant no harm to him, why couldn't he see that?

He took a few deep breaths, each one coming out with a chuff at the end. A mix of anger and dizziness washed over him in a wave. He spun around and began to pace, lost in his racing thoughts. His pace quickened and the floorboards moaned beneath his feet, his heart was beating faster than a galloping horse's hooves. Surely this had to be his end.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The room was empty, devoid of all noise, but he heard everything. Sounds came from no where, he felt as if the room was twirling around him. Then the door flew open and slammed against the wall. Anthony walked into the room, just two steps in from the doorway. A look of concern mixed with fear was painted on his features.

"Mr. Todd?" he asked tentatively.

"What?" came an almost inaudible growl from the shadowy man.

"I-I just came to tell you" Anthony stammered, "I'm bringing Johanna here tonight, is that alright?"

Sweeney paced the floor over by the window, his Lucy's window. He paused a moment to run his fingers along part of the wooden framework. There was no noise in the room while he did this, except the steady staccato of their breathing. Sweeney closed his eyes for a moment, just before beginning to sing at a whisper.

"There was a barber and his wife,

and she was beautiful,

a foolish barber and his wife,

she was his reason and his life,

and she was beautiful,

and she was virtuous,

and he was…naïve…"

Anthony left, taking whatever Sweeney was talking about as a 'yes'. He sauntered down the stairs and off down the street to see his dear Johanna.

Upstairs though, Sweeney was still trapped. He held one of the glittering silver razors in his hand, it was as if he let it go that he himself would perish. He felt the overwhelming desire to hurt something. Something needed to die and that was that. He sat down in the chair, a cloud of dust bellowing out around him, he just stared at the blade, contemplating. He smiled devilishly when he drew a line of white-hot fire across his palm. The slice was clean, deep and concise, just what he wanted. He curled his hand into a fist around his 'friend's' sharp edge. He laughed, he had shed his own 'precious rubies'. A fog of lethargy set in, he knew this was so wrong, but it felt so good. His eyelids felt like they weighed a million pounds and he could no longer hold them open. He drifted off, and for once, he slept peacefully.

"Toby!" Mrs. Lovett called.

"Yes mum?" her obedient little boy asked.

"Take this up to Mr. T" She held out a warm tray of food. She knew he would more than likely not eat it, but it made her feel useful. Like she was actually doing something for him after all that he has lost. It was also a small favor considering how much he had done for her in the past.

"Okay." He took the tray and left. She bit at her lip and grabbed a hunk of dough out of a bowl, smacking it down on the counter, and began to work with it.

Toby plodded up the stair and knocked on the door. No one answered. He figured Mrs. Lovett would be mad at him if he didn't give Mr. T the food, so he decided to go inside anyway.

Creeeeekkkk…

The hinges made an awful sound when they were opened slowly. Toby entered, looking both ways for the rather elusive Mr. Todd. He found him in the chair, his hand bloodied and his fingers still wrapped around the blade. Toby set the tray on the vanity behind the chair and approached slowly.

"Mr. Todd?" Toby asked to the unresponsive man. "I brought you some lunch." Toby walked around to the front of the chair and noticed just how much blood the man had shed. He panicked, he hand no idea what to do at a time like this.

'Get out boy!' the voice inside his head demanded. Toby did as he was told and ran out of the room as fast as he could. He decided he wouldn't tell his mum, she already had too much to worry about.

When the door smacked shut it woke Sweeney with a start. His hand sent a dull throbbing pain all the way up his arms. He took a deep breath and clenched his teeth when he forcibly pried his fingers apart and removed his 'friend'. Both fresh and dried blood coated the metallic silver making it a collage of reds and browns. He looked at the damage had had done. There was a clean slice across his palm and several smaller ones where his fingers clenched around the sharp edge. He reached to his waist and tore off a strip of the rag. He tenderly tied it around the wound and did the same to the others. When he was satisfied with his handy work he turned he attention to the razor. What was left of the cloth he used to wipe the crusting coating from its finish. When it was shined to his liking he folded it and replaced it on the box.

His stomach growled when he spotted the tray of food next to him. It consisted of a cup of tea, one of Mrs. Lovett's disgusting meat pies, and a piece of toast. With out even thinking he grabbed the toast, but as soon as he bit into it, he spat it out.

"Is that woman trying to kill me? God, how old is this bread?" He examined it, and noticed a spot of mold growing on the crust. He had his answer. 'Old enough' he thought. He took one sip of the cold tea and left it there. He looked out the filthy glass window and saw some one heading for the stairs.

Ta-Tump, Ta-Tump, Ta-Tump

Steps echoed off the walls as some poor soul ascended the flight. His first instinct was to hide, pretend like he wasn't here. He tried to move but he felt as if his feet were plastered to the floor. Who ever it was they knocked politely on the door. Todd looked up at him and the man took that as a sign to enter.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Todd" the man greeted with an air of false enthusiasm.

"Sit sir, sit!" Sweeney ushered the man to the chair and made him plop down. Dust began to float through the air the fine particles coating everything within reach. The man sneezed loudly.

"Bless you sir." Sweeney acted polite for the moment.

"I think this place needs a good dusting." The man said, taking in his surroundings. The whole place seemed different that the rest of the world, it lacked something. It was as if the room was…dead. There was nothing personal in the room, it was just for barren walls and a dilapidated wooden floor. He did notice though that there was a picture of a woman, a beautiful woman. The photo looked old though, yellow was appearing on the edges and they began to curl over themselves. While the man was lost in thought Sweeney had began to brush the lather across his chin.

Sweeney's hand instinctively went for his left hip slipping his friend from its holster.

Chink.

The dull sound permeated the air, as the razor was unfolded. He held on to it tightly like a lifeline. He rubbed his thumb against the engraving on its silver handle; it gave him an amazing sense of pride in what he was about to do. No matter how barbaric it was. 'It's all for you Lucy." Was his one and only reason for what he reaped on these poor innocent souls.

My how he loved his job.

"I know you'll get him back,

even as he gloats,

in the mean time,

I'll practice on less honorable throats"

Sweeney sang as he held the razor high above his head and plunged it into the man's throat. Gurgling enveloped every noise in the room. He stomped the pedal and another chunk of meat was added to the bake house below. He wiped the blood from the blade; his faithful friend was put to work once again.

"My friends, I told you, you shall drip rubies."