Chapter One

Boston, Massachusetts - 1986

He came home later that evening, night falling and leaving behind soft pink and lavender mingling with dark navy. He spent all day in the emergency room, losing two but saving six. Each time the EKG lines were flat, it mocked him and reminded him how weak he was now, compared to the past. And each body not even close to the one he was looking for, each body he brought home for a test, which took longer time than he wanted it to - mostly to the man himself currently in the basement.

Or rather, what was left of the man in the basement of his home.

Daniel Cain shrugged off his coat, smelling the remnants of blood on himself and longing for a shower. His stomach lurched; cleaning up came first before he could feed his growling stomach. He had nowhere special to be tonight, so his plan was to just spend tonight cleaning house and then going straight to bed.

Once everything was taken care of, he saved the latest room for last, although it had been swept up the night before after the latest subject. He did not come down here just for the sake of it, but because of what rested in this room. Rested both patiently and impatiently for a year since the collapse of the tomb adjacent to their last home residence abandoned after the incident. Constantly talking to itself - himself - day and night, but Dan was used to these things by now.

The room was dark when he descended the steps, his bare feet creaking the floorboards, and the floor was ice-cold by the time he reached the bottom and turned on the switch at the bottom of the stairs. The space was spotless, the shelves cleared of dust and the contents stored into their rightful places in cabinets and underneath the counters. The incinerator was turned off for the time being, and the refrigerator housed a terrifying secret that only Dan Cain knew.

However, all was motionless save for one peculiar thing on the rectangular table he used for the subjects he brought back from the hospital whenever he could spare without getting sick with fear of discovery.

"Dan."

~o~

He pushed debris and earth out of the way, his body aching with putting up a fight with the things of the past come back for revenge. Dr. Hill's head had come back - how did that happen? The "how" didn't matter now; what mattered was that he'd come back for revenge for his beheading, and Meg taken away from him now that Dan thought of it.

Meg...

He now accepted the fact that he would never reunite with her; she was gone forever. Her heart might have beaten again in a new body, but it wasn't the Meg he loved before she was taken from him. Her spirit was God's will to give and take, not man. On second thought, maybe no spirit existed, but either way, it was not man's place to make a new human being and give life back. But he was a doctor; all he wanted to do was to save people's lives, not make these monsters around them, but Herbert's morbid curiosity got the best of him, and look where it got them.

"Dan?" He looked behind him to see his last hope for his future, the woman who had been his chance at a normal life only to be ruined by Herbert. He could have put her out of here first, but he had to dig a way out first and then see that it was safe to drag her after him. Francesca clung to him and let loose a series of moans of relief.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. For her almost being killed by the woman who had the parts of all the women he failed to save - especially Meg - for what happened to her dog, and now almost getting killed by more of Herbert's creations. Just everything. He wanted nothing more than to make up for it. But he never got the chance to tell her this.

"DAN!"

"Herbert." He broke away from her and looked down into the pit of fallen stone and so on. His partner and friend was down there, and he'd seen him get crushed underneath the earth. He was probably hurt, injured in some way. Dan thought about just leaving him there so he could move on from this madness, but at the same time, he wasn't an uncaring monster. And West showed little to no compassion for the people they tried to save, even when it came to his meddling with body parts.

He pulled away from Francesca and headed back through the hole in the ground. "I have to go to him."

She tried to stop him, grabbing his arm. "Dan, he's a monster. Just leave him there for everything, so he doesn't hurt anyone else!"

"He's my friend, and he's still a human being! I'm a doctor, not a murderer!" He yelled wordlessly when he fell down, and his body flared with pain as he hit a rough spot, but with that pain came a determination and savagery of an animal ready to hunt. He threw aside rock slabs after the other, cleared dirt and soot...and finally there was a hand as well as a familiar face. The glasses were covered with dirt, the left side broken completely, and Herbert West was whimpering and crying in pain.

"Dan...! Dan, please!"

He hauled him out of the mess and carried him over to a smoother fallen slab, laying Herbert down on it like one of the patients. As far as he could tell, broken ribs and a hip, maybe one leg or so, but there was no telling. And guaranteed, Herbert did not have much longer to live. "Herbert, please, hold on," Daniel begged as he left him there and moved for the direction of the hole in the wall which led to the lab. He looked behind him to see Francesca coming back down. "Francesca, come and help me!" he shouted.

"I'll help you this one time, but the police will know about this," she threatened as she helped him haul the last of the rocks aside so the entrance was revealed. "You'll have no choice but to -"

She broke off when she screamed as a long, sharp length of silver pierced through her heart from behind. Dan barely heard himself in his own howls of anguish.

"NOOOOOOO!"

She choked and clutched at her chest as burgundy spurted, collapsing to her knees and revealing who had done the deed. The old hag - Chapham's wife - cackled as she brandished the machete after Dan, but he dodged her, and she ended up falling forward and losing her grip on the sword. Dan dove for it and briefly looked down at Francesca's body before turning his attention back to the witch who was just picking herself up, but vengeance boiled through him to the exploding point that he brought the blade down and severed her head with a clean stroke. Blood poured out in a thick, gory amount and splattered darkly on concrete. The corpse collapsed in a jerky flip-flop like sea bass.

Great, now he had two "souls" to get out of here. He easily carried Francesca, lifeless and limp in his arms, shoving off all of the scattered remains of the woman called "Meg" onto the floor, laying her down and shoving her hair out of her face. This was his fault; he had gotten her into this, and he'd lost another tonight. But he swore to fix this. He had to work fast to bring her back, not caring what the consequences were at this time. She didn't deserve to stay dead.

The black bag was on the floor just in front of the hole in the masonry, and it was natural that the re-agent was inside. Herbert was still alive, but it would be a matter of time before he would succumb to death. And he was screaming again for Dan.

"Don't you...let me die!" he choked out. "Don't choose her over me!"

Herbert West feared death; that was why he wanted to exterminate it once and for all, nevermind if the person didn't want to return in greater pain than before. He might have done so many wrong things, but he was just like Dan in wanting to save the patient at all costs. "Dan, I can't breathe...my body is...broken...can't feel..." He was trying to tell him that his body was too broken to be fixed, but his HEAD was intact.

Dan was appalled at the hint behind the meaning. Herbert wanted him to take his head off as soon as he was dead and then find him a new one once they got away from this place. Oh, God, did he seriously...?!

He shook his head clear of the thought, looking back to see Francesca's corpse on the table, very much the same way Meg had been on the hospital bed. He quickly sucked out the re-agent and brought the needle over to her, lifting her head up and sticking the needle into the spinal cord because her heart was too broken.

Moments later, a voice broke the still air.

"Dan?"

"Francesca," he breathed as he looked into her soft brown eyes, once closed behind soft eyelids in peaceful eternal sleep. "You're alive. How do you feel?" He brought his hand up to cup her cheek, but the sooner his palm made contact with her skin, her hand shot up and clutched his hand, fingernails curling in enough to pierce skin, making Dan draw back and cry out, clutching his bleeding hand.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME?!" she howled, surging off the bloodied table, hair wild like a lion mane as her whole face was. "YOU SHOULD HAVE LEFT ME DEAD! NOW LOOK AT ME!"

She lunged for him, but Dan dove out of her way, and she landed on the ledge of the entrance to the tomb - and Herbert on the slab was at risk of her savage revenge. "This is what you get now, Maker!" re-animated Francesca shrieked, scrambling up and diving for him, fingers latching around his neck. Herbert's screams were like the damned he revived, and pretty soon, blood stained the surroundings once more. More than enough blood had been spilled in one night, never ending in Dan's life.

"Francesca, NO!" he shouted, climbing up and trying to pull her off Herbert, but when he finally did, it was too late. Herbert's disarticulated head was now in the clutches of his undead flame; she threw it down in a frenzy, the glasses sliding off to the side. "Francesca, stop!" Dan was thrown onto the table, stunned and about to be killed in her fury.

Don't you let me die...choose her over me...

Herbert's words came back with a vengeance. Thankfully, Dan's hand found another rock to hold in hand; he brought it up and smashed it into Francesca's face. He should have listened to his instincts and left her dead, so she wouldn't have had to suffer anymore. It was clear that no more women were allowed as long as he was shackled to Herbert, who had become his responsibility since the night he walked into Dan's life. He had an oath to honor now.

After finishing off with bashing the rock into her face so she was dead once again, Dan threw it aside and looked back at Herbert West's severed head, now lying less than a few feet away from him, the glasses broken for sure; he would have to get him another pair, but getting away with both their skins intact came first. Picking up his friend's head by the hair and leaving Francesca's corpse with the other monsters hidden underneath the collapse, Dan went back into the lab and repeated the process.

This time, he got a much calmer response than anticipated, but the fury was there in those eyes.

"Look at what you let her do to me," Herbert raged, blinking uncontrollably. "And where are my glasses? I can't see a damn thing!"

He almost laughed, but now wasn't the time. "We're getting the hell out of dodge first, before the police come here. I'm going to do what you asked in the event of time, as your friend."

"If you're my friend, then get me a body soon!"

~o~

"Did you have a good day?"

Dan still stood at the bottom of the stairs as he looked at the back of the dark head facing him, his legs frozen until he finally willed himself forward and circled around the table. The head of Herbert West rested in a silver square dish, filled with blood and human plasma to keep it sustained, and more from the blood bag and IV for the sake of it. It was held straight up with a spike through what was left of the spine in the neck. The eyes behind the glasses were closed, lips parted slightly to let in raspy breaths even though it had no lungs for support. As soon as Dan stood before it, the eyes opened and blinked, the mouth closing and pursing into a thin line, waiting for his answer.

"Was that meant to be sarcastic?" Dan asked with a slight smile, leaning forward to look deeper into crystal green eyes.

West glared up at him in return. This was pretty much the only facial reaction he ever got from his friend in a year since that night. "You tell me," he returned, making Dan draw his head back.

"Only two lost, but you know how I am," he answered sadly, remembering the college frat boy who died of an overdose during a party - something he brought on himself, someone among the team had whispered - and the older woman who had a stroke, which was natural. She reminded Dan of his grandmother who died when he had just started going through puberty.

"You could have brought them by for the re-agent," Herbert scolded.

"On my own with two of them, risking the police finding out? Like they almost did back in Arkham?" he countered. "And neither of them would have met your standards, anyways. An old woman, as well as a burly guy whose body structure isn't even close to your old one."

Herbert considered this and sighed, closing his eyes. It had been a year since he had been able to help Dan with these things - minus with the mixing of the serum, batch after batch - move and touch things, but now his days and nights were in that dish filled with life's blood. His own as well as another's which matched his blood type. Dan would unwillingly steal blood bags from the hospital upon shortage and fill his friend's dish to keep him from drying out, and it was a miracle he hadn't even rotted over the last year. But despite being alive all this time, having no body was taking a toll on what was left of his sanity.

"All of these delays despite the subjects successful and retaining rational thought - WHY NO BODY FOR ME?!" he exploded, eyes wild and blazing like fire. "You promised me that you would find me one, and it's been a year!"

Dan sighed and sat down in the chair pulled up. "And I will find you one, but it hasn't been easy. Not when you got me doing all the work. I wish I could find someone else to help, but it's too risky. As much as I want you back on your feet, this is going to be much longer than we thought before, Herbert. You're going to have to be patient just a while longer."

"I'VE BEEN PATIENT!" Herbert roared, his glasses sliding down his nose. Dan reached over and pushed them back into place. "I HAVE NOT TOUCHED ANYTHING WITH MY OWN HANDS IN A YEAR, WALKED PLACE TO PLACE OF MY OWN FREE WILL, AND HAVE NOT WORKED ON MY OWN SUBJECTS BECAUSE IT IS MY LIFE TAKEN FROM ME!"

He wanted to shout back, but it was useless. Herbert was suffering a hell no one - not even enemies - deserved, and once in awhile, Dan was hoping it would make him see that re-animation of the dead wasn't as blissful as he thought it was, but nothing ever changed Herbert's mind. "Your life will come back to you," he promised, "but don't be thinking I'm abandoning you just because this is taking forever. We'll take however long it will until I get you a body." He paused there, thinking of the person he had been working alongside the past four months. She was a new face in Boston, her and her personal secretary, and she was an intriguing, brilliant woman who excelled in the field.

"There's one person I know who might help, but I am still not sure if we can trust her," he said finally.

Herbert scoffed. "Her? You're honestly thinking of a woman on our team to give me a new body? You're that much of a weak link than I thought before."

"Maybe I am, but she's a possibility. She is much better at saving lives than I am, so that's why I'm thinking of her."

"Her name?"

"Dr. Mirela Vale."

Besides "There's a Head in the Box", there's this incredible fic called "Re-AnimATE" on Tumblr, and it's crossed with "Silence of the Lambs". Very gruesome, but fun to read. :D