Ok, so this is truly a MEGA-CHAPTER, but it all needed saying. Forgive me that there is only a little bit of Wednesday in it. She'll get her say next.

Heed the rating ~ M ~ Not for the faint-hearted

That being said, Enjoy! Please Read and Review!

Part Four: The Dead and The Dying.

She couldn't sleep. It was well after 4am now and Wednesday knew she wouldn't get an ounce of sleep this night. Her rendezvous with Joel had ended hours ago when he rose silently, brushed the back of his hand against her cheek, and disappeared into the darkness. She'd sat on the stone bench alone for what seemed like a minute after he left, but when she got back to her room, she found she'd been sitting there for at least an hour. Her body ached with fatigue and her eyes refused to stay open, but her mind raced on, trying to put the new pieces of her puzzle into place.

The pieces made several pictures, several scenarios to explain the mystery of Joel, but none of them completely satisfied Wednesday. She tried again, starting with the piece she felt was the most crucial.

He'd died. That's what he told her. Aside from the fact that she'd seen him alive and breathing, she couldn't make her mind write off this statement as a lie. His eyes; she couldn't rip the horrifying image of his open, tormented, eyes from her mind.

She felt a strange impulse when she remembered them – an impulse to protect this strange creature, an impulse she'd never felt in her life. Self-preservation, sure, but protect someone else? Never. It gave her the creeps. She shook those eyes out of her mind.

One thing was sure though, those eyes didn't lie. And considering the horror she saw in them when he discussed his death, she couldn't even imagine what those eyes had seen. She guessed it wasn't white puffy clouds.

Ok, so if Joel had died, what did that make him now? What did that mean for her?

Growing up under her mother's tutelage made Wednesday something of an expert on demonology and the occult. It was her mother's passion, but Wednesday had never been a huge fan of it. She saw it as a good place to draw sadistic ideas from, but nothing more. She wasn't even sure if she really believed that things like demons, or conversely, angels, even existed. But she knew if she wanted answers about what can die but not be dead, there was only one person to ask. She groaned internally. Her mother was way too observant, so she'd have to go about this carefully if she wanted to avoid her mother knowing it was about a boy, let alone this boy. She sighed. Dammit, she thought. Dammit all.

Across town, Joel was thinking pretty much the same thing. He'd been up, like Wednesday, since their encounter and was mulling over the consequences of the information he'd revealed tonight.

He hadn't seen Wednesday in years, and then he suddenly shows up, looking completely different, acting completely different, and carrying around all of these dark, dangerous secrets. How would she respond to him? How should she?

He growled against his annoyance. Why was he doing this? He hadn't seen or heard from the girl in six years. She could be a totally different person now.

She certainly looked it. Well, he admitted to himself, not totally different. She still dressed in black, and that last day of school she'd had her hair in those black braids she used to love. But tonight she'd worn her hair down. Maybe the difference had been in her face. She looked older, more beautiful than cute (if Wednesday could ever have been called cute). Her heart-shaped face was still pale and her dark eyes burned in his memory, but her expressions – maybe that was it, the stoic mask that she'd worn so well as a child had slipped a bit. Her features now formed into expressions. She'd been angry when he'd pinned her against the car, and frightened. He'd noticed how her face became searching as she monitored his face while he spoke. He'd even seen how her burning eyes had seemed to melt a little when he'd spoken of his death. She felt. The Wednesday he remembered may have felt, but she sure as Hell didn't show it. He smiled at the memory.

However much she'd changed, he had to believe that there was still some piece of her that was his Wednesday, his first friend, his first love. He only hoped that she'd be able to find her Joel underneath whatever he'd become. He sent up a silent prayer that there still was piece of the Joel he used to be left for her to find.

As morning broke, he fell into a fitful sleep.

And he dreamed, as he often did, of the night that he died.

It was not the night of the fire, as he supposed Wednesday must think, but months earlier.

He saw himself, not quite as scrawny as he was at 12, but certainly not muscular, dressed in jeans and a tee-shirt, glasses askew, waiting nervously outside of her office. Dr. Lillian Stone, she went by, but he'd discovered her true name later.

It was evening, past curfew, but this was the time she'd said the club met. She'd even given him a signed pass. He waited. The school seemed creepy to him, after dark. They'd only left on about half of the lights, so patches of light and dark alternated down the long hallways. One old bulb overhead flickered and buzzed, putting Joel to mind of an old slasher movie he'd seen. He imagined Jason, or someone, was waiting in one of the dark patches, ready to spring.

Just as he had nearly decided to screw it and go to bed, the door swung inward, and he was bathed in light. "Come in Joel," he heard his name in the enchanting voice of Dr. Lillian.

Moving stiffly, he entered and was soon encircled by six other students and Dr. Lillian. They'd placed a single chair in the middle of the room and he was invited to sit. He remembered thinking this was a strange way to welcome a new member to a club, but before he could really think on it, his attention was diverted as she spoke again.

"Dear Joel, welcome to our little club," she crooned, stepping inside the circle of students and coming closer to Joel.

"Th-th-thank you," Joel had stuttered, "but I don't really know what type of club this is." His anxiety was beginning to punch through, and he was suddenly feeling very uncomfortable.

She laughed; it was an enchanting sound. Joel remembered smiling unintentionally when she laughed. "Don't worry, Joel. This is a special club, so special, in fact, that we chose you specifically for the last opening."

Joel was skeptical now. No one chose him specifically. "M-m-me?" he'd managed.

"Why yes," she continued. "You see we are a collective – like minds, like hearts, working toward a common goal." She stared at him intently now, "I believe you have just the kind of mind and heart that we need. You see, Joel," she began circling him, "we desire to change the world! To fix it!" she appeared suddenly at his ear and whispered inches from his skin, "to make it better. Isn't that what you want Joel?" she crooned.

Her voice was like a song, like a snare. He found he couldn't resist her, couldn't help but agree with whatever she said, so he nodded.

She smiled. "I knew it," she crooned, "I knew you were the right boy." She stood and faced the others. "Group, welcome Joel into our club."

"Welcome, Joel," they replied in unison.

"Um, thanks," Joel had murmured. He moved to get down off the chair, but she blocked him.

"Uh huh! We're not done," she chided. "First you must drink from the ceremonial cup!" With a snap of her fingers, one of the other students brought a chalice to her.

"What… what is this?" Joel asked.

"Red wine," she answered, "A nice merlot, actually."

Feeling the pressure of the eyes on him, Joel gathered his courage and took a small sip from the chalice.

Immediately, several sensations hit him at once. He tasted the wine and was not a fan. Not only did it have the dry flavor of merlot, it had an added rusty taste that he couldn't place. He considered spitting it out but decided that would be rude. He also tasted something sweet, cloying, almost like Novocain, that didn't seem to fit with the bitter-rusty taste of the wine. And then, out of nowhere, he stopped thinking about the flavor because he found that the entire room was spinning.

Wait, he'd thought, maybe it's just that the students are spinning around me. And, well, they were. And chanting. But Joel soon found that he couldn't concentrate on the spinning or foggy sounds of the chant. He felt adrift, weightless, foggy, and confused, but then – he heard her voice.

It was as if she was inside of his head; he heard her voice so clearly. It was so sweet, unbearably sweet, like a sigh. She called to him, "Joel, Joel come back to me dear."

He found he could focus now, but only on her voice, his vision was still a nauseating blur. "Here I am," he'd said, slurring his words slightly.

"Joel, I need you to do me a favor, will you do that, Joel?" she'd crooned. He nodded. "Good boy. Now, I've put something in your hand, do you feel it?"

He felt it. It was hard and cold, like a handle. He turned his eyes down to get a look at it, and although it was blurry, he was pretty sure it was a dagger.

"A dagger?" he'd said.

She'd laughed, and it was the sound of tinkling bells. "Not a dagger, silly," she giggled, "it's a marker, and all I want you to do is draw a nice straight line up your arm. Can you do that?"

"A line?" he muttered, "up my arm? Why?"

Her singing voice became a little bit harsh now, "Initiation," she said. She bit the end of the word as if she couldn't continue in that sweet voice.

He felt her cool hand on his hand as she brought the blade against the skin of his left wrist. Comprehension was breaking through and he was about to throw the blade away, when she plunged the tip into his skin. He felt the pain, but only distantly. All he could really feel was her hand on his hand, and all he could hear was her crooning voice, "Draw, Joel. You can do it. You want to do it, you want to join, don't you?"

Every second that he resisted pulling the blood-soaked blade up the inside of his arm he felt a terrible, burning pain in his head, radiating down his spine. He knew he shouldn't pull the blade. In some far off corner of his mind he knew that he was loosing too much blood. But every time he pulled, the burning stopped and every time he resisted, the burning intensified.

When he'd reached the crook of his elbow, she'd stopped him. "Good boy, Joel, that's enough." He felt heavy, immobile, paralyzed.

When she said 'enough,' the fog cleared and Joel looked down to see his bloodied arm, the blood pooling down the chair and covering the floor at his feet. He nearly puked at the sight, but he was startled out of his nausea by the look on Dr. Lillian's face. Her cold face was animated now and her blue eyes burned bright red.

He gasped when he saw her. She smiled. "Oh, I love that part." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, savoring the moment. "The moment they realize, the moment that true fear sets in. It's intoxicating." She turned her head to the others, "Don't you think?"

Joel turned to look at the others now, and, with a fear that turned his blood to ice, he noticed that all of their eyes burned red and their faces were alive with hunger. With thirst.

She lifted his bleeding arm, and in gesture that reminded him sickly how one might offer a drink to a friend, she passed it over to them. He watched in horror as six mouths bent to his arm. He felt the softness of six lips on his skin and then heard with disgust the slurping sound as they sucked his blood from his gushing wound. He turned his head away, unable to watch anymore, and met her eyes.

She was standing in front of him, towering over his chair, watching her pets with immense satisfaction. Her eyes were alight with what he would come to know as thirst, and she leaned over him.

She brought her face right up against his, her cheek touching his, and she whispered into his ear, "I am Lilith, and I claim you."

Then with a fearsome suddenness, she gripped the left side of his face and plunged her teeth into the skin on the right side of his neck. He felt a sudden thrill at being touched so fiercely, and the feel of her lips on his neck tightened the muscles in his stomach. But as she bit, and clung, and drank, he felt his body revolt against the invasion. He bucked in his chair, tried to wrench his arm from the students, and, with his free arm, push Lilith off of him, but their grips were inhuman. He couldn't budge.

And then he was drowning, drowning in pain as his muscles and lungs ached for the blood they were not receiving, drowning in fog as unconsciousness struggled to claim him.

Suddenly, her hold on him loosened and he heard her in his ear again.

"Drink," she commanded. He tried to open his eyes to see what she wanted him to drink, but he found he couldn't move at all. She wiped something wet against his lips and he shied away. He didn't know what it was at first, but it had that same rusty taste as the wine.

"Drink," she commanded again, "Drink and live." This time she laid her whole wrist against his mouth, and he realized what the rust flavor was, it was her blood, dripping out of her own opened vein. The urge to vomit almost overcame him, but she continued to press her wrist against his mouth, forcing the blood down his throat. Whatever bit of consciousness he'd had slipped away, and he felt himself falling, falling into himself, falling into darkness.

The heat, he'd never forget that heat. And the wind. And the bodies, the mangled bodies, and the beasts that chewed on the rotting flesh of the still moving bodies. And ­–

Joel awoke with a start, in his own bed in the dingy motel he'd been calling home since he returned to this dump of town. Panting and gasping for air, he struggled to shake off the final remnants of his dream that had not been a dream, but a memory.

He dropped his head into his hands and curled up in a little ball on the bed, trying to regain some composure and push the images from his dream out of his head. It was then that he felt her presence.

No, not really her. Just her spirit. He lifted his eyes, searching the room until he saw her transparent form standing in the darkest corner.

"Lilith," he said.

"Ah, my dear boy, I'm so pleased to hear you haven't forgotten me over these past three years," she crooned.

"What's three years to someone of your years?" Joel mumbled.

She giggled, "You're quite right. Three years is but a finger's snap for me, but young men are always so quick to move on," she mused.

Joel was tired of the charade. "What do you want, Lilith? How did you find me?"

"Joel, Joel, Joel," she chided, "so impetuous, never enjoying the sport, just jumping to the finish." Her voice became dangerous now, "We have some unfinished business, Joel, you know that. I gave you your space, but the time is come. You didn't think I'd move on and forget about you, did you?"

"A man can hope," he muttered to himself. Her form floated across the room until it was inches from his bed.

"And why would I do that? After I put some much time and effort into you." She shook her head, "I chose you. I claimed you. I made you." She brought her face up against his, "You are mine."

Joel got up and put the distance of the room between them. "I'm no one's," he said, crossing his arms.

Lilith became abruptly irritated with the conversation. She snapped out, "The time of the gathering is near, and by the full moon, you will return to me and take your place among the seven."

He turned his back on her before answering, "And if I don't?"

She hissed and Joel felt an unbearable pain in his heart. It brought tears to his eyes and he fell to his knees, clutching his chest.

"I claim you. I own you. When I brought your soul back from Hell you didn't believe I gave it all back to you, did you?" she cackled.

Joel turned horror-stricken eyes on her.

"How did I find you? I followed the pull of your soul. It will always lead me directly back to you." She floated across the room and was inches from him again. He didn't have the strength to move away.

"You're inside me now, Joel," she whispered. "Just like I am inside you." She caressed his cheek with a transparent hand. She giggled, "And you thought I had influence over you before you died."

She rose now, and spoke, business-like, "You will come to me before the full moon. Or else, I will come to you." She blew him a kiss, and turned as if to leave.

Pausing, she added, "If I have to come for you, I may need to find some reason to make the journey worthwhile. That girl you've been seeing…"

Joel shot to his feet, his hands balling up into fists.

Lilith faced him again, "She's pretty. Pale, like the moon. I can only imagine what she tastes like…" As she disappeared, he heard her giggling to herself. The sound lingered in his room long after the vision was gone.

Joel fell to his knees again, and threw his fists, hard, against the floor, cracking the linoleum.