Greetings Readers! Here's the second chapter of The Spool!

Warning: More horror, language

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin, or any of its characters.

"Arthur!" Gwen gasped, rushing forward and putting her hands on his face. "What happened? You look terrible!"

Arthur let out his breath shakily. "Just got a bit of a shock. I'm all right now, though." He sighed. "I think I'm not going to be messing with that thread anymore, though."

Gwen stepped back and looked at his face appraisingly before nodding.

"That might be for the best. You've been relying on it for quite a bit now."

An irrational anger began filling him, and he clenched his fist to fight it back. He blinked in surprise at the sensation, shaking his head. "You're right."

"Come on," Gwen said sympathetically, taking one of his arms and gently pulling him towards their bedroom, "you need some rest. Dinner will keep."

"You're right," Arthur replied, dropping the spool of thread on the dresser, ignoring the impulse to hold it close to him. "I think some sleep is exactly what I need."

Only an hour after he slipped into an easy doze Arthur jerked awake, the pounding in his chest impossible to ignore. His heart seemed calm in his chest, but the thudding echoed throughout his entire body. His lungs felt heavy, and his fingers began to burn and itch.

The spool was calling to him.

It was pounding in his chest from the dresser, begging him for the chance to make his lungs light and to relieve the burning itch of his fingers.

Arthur rolled over, covering his head with the pillow.

The thudding sounded loudly and resolutely in his ears, making his eyes and head sore. The itch in his fingers became irritated by their friction against the pillow. He was running out of air and could not breathe.

Arthur tightened every muscle in his body, valiantly struggling to ignore the spool's call.

He got no more sleep that night, each heartbeat echoed by the spool's pounding.

xxx

Coffee seemed insufficient the following week. His fingers, forced to be content merely with cupping around a hot thermos, itched petulantly for the feel of the thread. Work dragged by sluggishly slowly, and he had to restrain himself from snapping at random strangers in the subway.

His entire body felt sore and old again, and he ached for the relief of the string, but he resisted. He'd hoped that the struggle would become easier as time passed. It had not.

His bones creaked and popped more often as he moved. He was unable to run up stairs without gasping for gulps of air, forcing him to watch his younger employees dash by and give sympathetic looks. He would come home exhausted, slumping into the kitchen chair or recliner when he came home. And the one time he'd tried to sweep Gwen up into his arms, he'd wrenched his back and had to lie down the rest of the night.

Even Gwen's loving care and attention weren't enough to get rid of the embarrassment or the itching for the thread that was so close by.

Some nights, when the pounding became too much, he would slip out of bed and walk to the dresser. He would pull out the drawer and take the thread out, brushing his fingers across it. The itch would reduce a little, but nowhere near enough, and he was forced to hold back the revulsion as the thread seemed to slide like blood through his fingers.

Arthur was fighting the temptation, but with every aching day and sleepless night, his resolution began to weaken.

xxx

"It'll be good to see everyone, won't it?" Gwen said cheerfully as she pulled the picnic basket out of the boot. Arthur gave an answering grunt, as he popped the soreness from his neck and shoulders. "I'm glad that Merlin managed to get us all together – it's been ages since I've seen the old circle." She laughed, gently shoving his shoulder with her own. "Besides, seeing you lot all play footie again will be like old times."

Arthur groaned internally. He really wished Gwen wouldn't use the word "old." He felt ancient as he heard his bones pop in time with his movements.

"Artie!" Gwaine came barreling over, slapping Arthur on the back before sweeping Gwen into a bear hug. "It's been forever, mate. Where have you been?"

"Working," Arthur said dryly.

"Hmph," he snorted teasingly, "is work more important than your friends?"

Arthur rolled his eyes and shook his head, laughing as Gwaine got the wind taken out of him by a well-placed elbow from his girlfriend. "Leave him alone, tough guy," Elena laughed, "or he'll leave and it will be all your fault."

Elena walked over to Gwen and hugged her before easing the picnic basket out of her hands. "Come on, everyone else is waiting!"

Gwaine watched his girlfriend sweep away with a mix of surprise and awe. "That girl…" he shook his head, turning to Arthur. "Come on!"

They followed the girls to the football pitch, where the rest of their friends had set up camp on one of the bleachers. As they saw Arthur and Gwaine approach they began to wave frantically and yell.

"Finally!" Merlin said, grinning as he jumped off of the bleachers, "We wondered when you and Gwen were going to show up."

Leon, Elyan, and Percival came over, slapping Arthur on the back. Lance stopped first to help Gwen put down the basket and ask her how she was. Arthur winced a little internally at the sight, remembering how he'd not known about Lance's love for his wife until the day after they'd been engaged. With most other men, he would have been on guard and jealous, but Lance was one of the most noble people he knew.

That didn't stop the pangs of unease and guilt when he could see the visible love in Lance's eyes when he looked at Gwen.

"So," Leon began, breaking Arthur from his thoughts, "how has everything been?"

Arthur popped a kink in his neck. "Been having its ups and downs, you know how it is. Work has been sucking up more and more of my time."

Leon nodded sympathetically. "I know what you mean – Mithian's been getting frustrated with my late hours, and I can't blame her." He looked over at his fiancée, who was tying up her trainers while talking to Gwen and Elena. "But that's life."

"It's a shame, though," Elyan countered, "that it keeps us all apart so much. I miss hanging out with you guys during uni." He grinned, "Back when we were the knights."

Percival let out a deep rumbling chuckle. "We got some weird looks when we put down that name for our team, but what else could we do with King Arthur as our team captain."

Arthur slapped his forehead, grimacing at the impact as the others laughed. "Hilarious," he said dryly, although he was grinning.

"You always did seem more like a princess to me," Gwaine countered, his rakish smile in fine form. He'd already pulled off his shirt in preparation for the game, showing off his finely toned muscles. "Let's see if you lot can still play, or if all that work has made you old and boring!"

Elyan shoved him good-naturedly. "Sod off, just because your job just has you take off your shirt and pose all day –"

Gwaine stuck his chin in the air, striking one of his more internationally known poses. His modeling career had sky-rocketed since they'd all graduated from university. "And keeps me in peak physical condition," he bragged. "You all are going down!"

"Even your teammates?" Merlin asked, his brow arching in a fashion eerily similar to one of his mentors at the hospital. "Might want to rethink this one, Gwaine…"

"Enough of that," Arthur said briskly, pulling off his jacket and throwing it to the side, "let's start a game. We'll see who's going down."

xxx

Arthur pushed up with one elbow from the ground, a glob of mud falling from his face onto the ground. His every bone and muscle ached, and he panted for breath. This was humiliating.

This was the third time he'd been knocked down since they'd begun playing. And unlike the times they played when they were younger, he stayed down rather than darting away to victory. And each time, it had been Gwaine.

He waved off the hands offering to help him to his feet, and stood up, his bones creaking. "I just need a drink – I'll be back."

Gwaine's crowing echoed in his ears as he stomped over to his gym bag, and he gritted his teeth. His friend meant well, but this was too much. Arthur hated not coming first in anything, and he was being summarily stomped into the ground.

"Sorry, mate!" Gwaine called, "I don't mean to be that rough. It's just a game."

Arthur's fingers clenched about his water bottle, the plastic squeaking in protest. So, his humiliation was all a game, was it? He shook off the frustration. He knew he was taking things too seriously.

He opened the bag to slide the water bottle back in, when something inside caught the afternoon light.

Arthur stared. He didn't remember having put the spool in the bag.
The ever-present itch in his fingers, and numbly he reached for the spool. It felt good and solid, waiting for him patiently. His hand slid down the slick strands of his thread. Only one pull…

He yanked his hand back. He could not forget what the thread back.

"Come on, Arthur! Not afraid, are you?"

Arthur's brows furrowed with a vengeance. Without any more hesitation, he reached forward and pulled hard.

Energy, pulsing, hot energy, filled him and he ran back towards the pitch.

They began the play, and Arthur kicked the ball hard to Merlin who ran off with it. As Arthur sprinted down the pitch, he caught up with Gwaine who was laughing exuberantly with the adrenaline rush. "Not too bad, Princess!" he chuckled, "How come you didn't do that be-"

Before Arthur knew what was happening, he was blinded by the hot gold red of rage and anger and energy, and he tackled Gwaine to the ground hard. Balling up both of his fists, he became pummeling Gwaine's smug, pretty-boy face. Where did he get off on calling Arthur weak? Where did he get off on judging Arthur? Just some stupid man with a face that some cameras liked, but without a single bloody brain in his-

The cries of joy down the pitch became shrieks of horror, and feet thundered down the pitch towards him. "Arthur!" Someone shrieked.

Arthur felt a heavy thud knock him off of Gwaine, and looked up though his clearing vision at Percival, who looked shocked. They both turned to look at Gwaine laying on the ground, watching as Elena began mopping up his bruised, bloody face. "Gwaine? Gwaine!" She cried out, "Can you hear me?"

The adrenaline rush had receded somewhat, and Arthur began shaking violently. He pushed Percival off and stared down at Gwaine, who struggled to look up at him through his swollen eye.

Every where he looked, he could see the faces staring at him in horror, in shock, in angry disbelief. Their gazes burned him like a brand, and he stepped back, his head weakly shaking back and forth.

And then he ran.

xxx

"Arthur," Gwen called out, almost fearfully, as the door opened and shut behind her, "what happened back there?"

Arthur exhaled heavily through his nose, trying to stop the rushing of the world about his ears. "Nothing – just a bunch of mates getting too rough."

Gwen stamped her foot in frustration. "No! It's more than that. Arthur, you were beating Gwaine – you humiliated him! That's not the Arthur I know!"

Wishing his heart would slow down, Arthur gritted his teeth and faced her. "And who is that man, exactly?"

"He certainly wouldn't humiliate his friends! He wouldn't nearly beat someone to death."

Arthur shrugged, nearly choking on the hidden shame. "It got out of hand."

"I just don't understand –" Gwen froze, her gaze riveted to just below his hip. "Arthur, what is that?"

He looked down to follow her gaze, which was focused on his pocket. The glint of dark gold thread peeked through the opening. Arthur shoved it in hastily.

"I thought you got rid of that," Gwen said slowly, "what are you doing with it again?"

"That's none of your business, Guinevere."

Gwen stiffened, as though stung. "Arthur, it's the thread. It's doing something to you." She came closer. "Come along, let's get rid of it. Then everything will be all right!"

Arthur turned, sheltering the string. "Get away!"

"Please," she pleaded, reaching for the pocket, "it will make you better…"

He shoved her hand out of the pocket, grabbing the string protectively – accidentally pulling it out an arm's length as he stumbled backwards.

Light and rage and anger and frustration engulfed all his senses. He could vaguely feel his hand clamping into a fist, and letting the fist fly forward. Fist met flesh, and he suddenly felt a wet crunching followed a surprised cry.

When the light receded, he felt his entire body shaking with exertion, and his right hand felt bound and sticky. The thread had ensnared his fingers and was dripping red. He slowly turned to face his wife and found her on the ground. Her eyes were welling with tears, which seeped past her badly bruised eye and profusely bleeding nose.

His body stiffened in horror. "Gwen…"

She flinched back, trembling.

The door flew open, and Merlin and Lance rushed in. "What happened?" Lance began, "We thought we heard –" He looked down at Gwen on the floor and his face paled. "Gwen!"

He knelt down beside her, trying to ease her into a comfortable sitting position, secured against his chest. Arthur's free hand balled into a fist, and he took a step forward. Merlin slid in between him and the other two, his hands splayed in front of him. "Stop it!" he yelled. "What is wrong with you, Arthur? Why did you hit –" His eyes caught on Arthur's bloodied hand and widened. "No…"

Arthur shoved the thread protectively into his pocket and advanced on Merlin. "Nothing is wrong with me! Why do you think anything's wrong?"

"Gwen bleeding on the floor?" Merlin retorted, as Lance shifted Gwen closer to him and wiping away the blood from her nose.

"Guinevere," Arthur snapped, his mind boiling with rage at his wife in his once-rival's arms, "clearly has no complaints with how she is right now. Surprised she hasn't betrayed me before this."

"Betrayed?" Honor and anger warred in Lance's voice as he stopped his ministrations. "She has never betrayed you, and neither would I. I am just comforting her after her husband brutalized her!"

Arthur turned his head sharply away, his hand clenching on the bloody spool. "Whatever. I don't care anymore." He shoved Merlin, who had moved closer to Gwen during his tirade, as he stomped out of the flat. "You're welcome to her!" He snapped at Lance, slamming the front door behind him.

xxx

"The bloody hell is your problem!"

Arthur turned away from the accusing voice, taking a gulp of his beer. "You don't know when to quit, do you?"

Merlin slammed his fist on the bar. "Neither do you, apparently! Why did you do that to Gwen?"

Arthur slammed down his mug. "That's hardly any of your business, is it?"

"You made it my business when you started hurting my friends. Our friends, Arthur!" Merlin shook his head. "Gwen is probably still crying – I think you broke her nose!"

He shrugged a shoulder. "I'm sure Lancelot is there to keep her company, and good riddance."

"Arthur," Merlin's voice became desperate, "can't you see what's happening? I know you used the spool – I saw it during the game. Stop it, please. There's still time – you can leave this behind you. You can apologize to Gwaine, make it up to Gwen-"

"You're hardly one," Arthur snarled, "to be giving any advice on romance. You didn't do such a good job of keeping your own fiancé safe!"

Merlin looked as though he'd been stabbed through the heart, and Arthur felt a twang of guilt. Mentioning Freya, whom terminal illness Merlin had not been able to cure despite his years of medical training, was a low blow, and he knew it. "Merlin…"

Merlin let out a shaky breath, his complexion turning a dark red and then deathly pale before it resumed its normal shade. "This isn't you," he said shakily, "it's the thread. For everyone's sakes, Arthur, get rid of it!"

"I'm tired," Arthur snapped, his repentance gone, "of you always trying to tell me what to do. Merlin, always sure he knows best. Poor Arthur, never having a clue." He stood up, waving a fist at Merlin. "Leave now, Merlin. You're a self-righteous idiot, and I'm sorry I ever met you."

"Arthur…"

"LEAVE! I NEVER WANT TO SEE YOUR UGLY FACE AGAIN!"

Merlin glanced around at the shocked patrons and sighed. "Fine, Arthur," he said, turning away, "I'll leave."

"Good."

Arthur glared after his friend's slouching form as he left the bar. As he turned back to the stool, he felt the shocked, accusing gazes of the other people in the bar and slumped forward. Everything he had said and done came rushing back, and he hid his face in his hands.

"My God, what have I done?"

xxx

Once realizing he had no place to go, Arthur attempted to remedy his ache with beer, even though the spool within his pocket was incessantly calling for his touch. All the adrenaline of the last day had left him and he slumped against the bar, too tired and aching and sore to do anything. His head pounded at the thought of all he would have to do to try and make amends, while his heart bled at the knowledge that it was probably too late.

He had lost everything.

"Closing time," the bartender said, tapping his hand on the bar to rouse Arthur from his stupor, "you gotta get out of here."

Arthur listlessly pushed off the bar, his arms and legs limp and heavy as he tried to pop the catch in his back. His feet dragged as he slowly walked out into the street.

He turned into the alleyway besides the bar, and promptly threw up, his body convulsing as he fought the waves of sickness engulfing him. The exertion left him weak, and he slumped against the wall, desperately trying to breathe.

"Well, well."

Arthur turned to the sound and his eyes narrowed. "You!" He spat.

"I wondered," Nim drawled, smug pleasure almost dripping from her words, "when we'd meet again." She looked at Arthur's hand, which was shaking about the spool, and clucked disapprovingly. "I knew you'd not be able to resist."

Arthur struggled to stand strong, feeling tiredness pull at his bones and his breathing became rattled. "What," he coughed out, "do you want from me?"

"Oh, my dear Arthur," she smiled, sliding closer in the darkness, "don't you know everything has a price?"

He gritted his teeth, wincing at the cracking sound his jaw made. "Haven't I paid enough already? I've lost my wife, my friends…"

"Clearly they weren't worth all that much," she replied, not stopping in her approach, "you gave them up easily enough."

The aching pull brought Arthur down to his knees, and he glared up at the smug woman. "Damn you."

Her nails, red like blood, brushed the front of her chest as she gasped mockingly. "Really, now, that just hurts. But I'm not here to make nice, Arthur," she smiled, "I'm here to collect."

"Get away!" He stumbled to his feet, staggering backwards beneath the weight. The spool dangled by the thread from his fingers.

She stepped forward. "Oh, poor you," she drawled, "you really don't understand that there's nothing that can be done now, do you?"

Arthur felt the thread keenly, felt its pulse and gripped it with determination. "You're wrong," he coughed defiantly as he prepared to pull the string for the burst of energy, "I can-"

Twang.

The words stopped in his throat and he stared down at his two hands, one was clutching the black, charred end of string, and the other –

An empty spool.

Arthur attempted to recover from the freezing shock, but his lungs wouldn't pull in air, his muscles refusing to obey his commands. He fell to the ground.

"It was so very obvious," Nim crooned as she knelt beside him, her eyes growing dark and pupilless, "I'm astonished really that a man like you missed it. Merlin was close to figuring it out, but it'll be too late now." She eyed her blood-red nails with a sly satisfaction. "That adrenaline rush you always felt when you pulled the thread, the ideas and feelings and abilities that were rushing past…that wasn't just anyone's life flashing before your eyes. It was yours."

"And now," she continued as her hair darkened to midnight and her face became pale as death, "you've run out."

Arthur gritted his teeth, forced the words out. "You…tricked me."

"Oh, don't give me all the credit," she crooned, "you made it all too easy."

Arthur gasped for air, his heart slowing when no more air came.
He felt the muscles and sinews stiffen, his bones fall heavy and hollow, and the light began to blind him.

He felt her laughter, mockingly pleased, by his ear as the world came to a stop.

"Bright at the end, isn't it?"

A/N: And that's the end! What did you think? Did you see that coming?

Thanks for reading and please review! They make me happy!