(We're seen sitting by the computer; I'm looking over the shot)

Me: …I think you have a problem, WG.

WG: What makes you say that?

Me: Well, for one thing, we've done this pairing already- sort of. Plus, there's mentioning of… very dark things. (looks at document) Very, VERY dark things.

WG: Well, you're welcome to change it.

Me: Nah, it'll draw readers in. Though we'll have to issue a warning, just to be safe. But I think no one will have a problem with it.

WG: As long as no one misinterprets it as slash, we're good.

(pause)

Me: We need to do more boy-girl fluffs.

WG: Oh yeah.

Warning: Contains dark things… you have been warned.


Pairing: Fangs and Pugsy (WG picked, can you tell? *slap!* Ow!)

Disclaimer: We still own nothing.

He lie in the hospital bed, unmoving. Breathing, but not moving. Tubes were attached to him, keeping him alive, the slow beeping of the heart monitor mixed with raindrops hitting the window were the only sounds in the large, empty room. He was suffering a concussion, had a broken leg, shoulder dislocated, and damaged ribs.

The doctors said he won't make it.

In a chair, another sat, hanging his head low. It was his fault… he had to drag him into this, and now he was facing the blame for the tragedy. Thanks to him, his best friend, the only one who ever took his torment without much complaint or argument, was probably going to die.

Their last conversation still rang in his head…

"You sure you know how to drive a motorcycle?"

"Sure, I've done it a million times before."

"I don't believe that."

"Why not?"

"Wouldn't your hospital bill be a telephone number?"

"Ha ha, I forgot how to laugh. Get on, I'll show you how well I can steer it."

"Fine, but if I die, you're gonna regret it…"

He winced. He really regretted it… the only one who could possibly feel worse was that truck driver.

"Slow down, you're going too fast! We're gonna get a ticket!"

"I'm trying to… the brakes are out!"

"The brakes are WHAT?!"

"Don't worry, I'll just pull off to the side and cut the engine, then we'll-"

"Careful, that truck is getting close to our lane, it's almost over the l- LOOK OUT!"

He had tried to swerve out of the way, but it proved to be a fatal mistake. The truck swerved the same way and slammed into them. The last thing he saw were stars, millions of them, as the sky was suddenly red, and he only heard a frantic cry… then all went black. When he came to, there was a highway patrol car, an ambulance, and several people around. The truck driver had been pulling into the lane to make a turn, the motorcycle being in his blind spot he claimed… though the way he slurred, the officers could easily tell he was drunk. He would be sorry for the damage once he was sober.

Yet he still blamed himself. He should have been paying more attention- no, he shouldn't have taken his friend with him on a test-drive; he should have worked on the motorcycle first, made sure everything was in good quality…

But no. He was excited to show off the vehicle, and prove to his friend that he could drive it like a pro. Now, his friend was going to die… all he suffered from was a broken arm and a shattered kneecap, the doctors claiming his helmet was thick enough to protect his skull and prevent brain trauma- but it wasn't the helmet that was thick, he thought, but his head. While he was able to check out a week ago, his friend was still in critical condition, still unconscious, which was why he chose to stay, hoping that he would pull through…but his hopes faded away.

I should be the one to die, he told himself. It was my idea to go driving; I didn't give him a spare helmet; I should have spotted that truck first… I should be the one hooked up to all those tubes, struggling to stay alive, not him. He didn't do anything wrong.

Normally, he wouldn't be blaming himself- he'd be blaming that drunk driver, or the patrolman who failed to bust him a mile down the road, or the sap who sold him a faulty motorcycle…but he still knew, in some way, he was the one really responsible. He wanted to take his friend on a joyride… now he was on the stairway to Heaven.

He stood up, looking at the heart monitor. He couldn't handle being there anymore… he knew that his family would be coming in, as well as Biff and Kim, and the first thing they would do was snap at him for causing so much trouble; and if by the slim chance his friend did survive, there was no doubt he would yell at him for dragging him into this mess, claim he was always finding some way to torture him and call it the last straw, and forbid him to ever come near him again.

Tears welled up in his eyes, but he held them back as he turned to the door. He had to get out of here before he caused any more harm. He limped down the hall, seeing their friends and parents in the lobby, giving him the notion to turn and go out another exit before they could see him, having heard enough from them already…

"How could you do this to my son?!"his friend's mother demanded.

"It wasn't his fault…" Kim tried to say, quietly.

"Who would buy a motorcycle off such a shady character?" his father scolded.

"Do you know the name of the original owner? Maybe we could get a trace…" Biff suggested.

"He's nothing but trouble! I knew one day he would end up getting my son killed!" his friend's father snarled.

"I told you to be careful… now look what's happened," his mother sobbed.

He was out the door, entering the rain. He didn't have a jacket, only a T-shirt and pants, but he felt too numb to feel any colder. He struggled along, pausing halfway down the walk to look up at the room his friend was still in, and his tears unleashed, mixing with the rain that hit his face.

"I'm sorry, Fangs," Pugsy whispered, then went on.


Three days passed since he left the hospital. It had been over two months since the accident. Fangs was still unconscious.

Biff and Kim went by every day with his family to see if he would wake up; Pugsy, feeling unwelcome, remained home. The two visited him as well, just to make sure he was doing alright, both of them knowing guilt weighed upon him. "You can't blame yourself, Pugsy- it was an accident," Kim always assured him. "It could have happened to anyone…"

"Yeah, and because of me, it happened to us," Pugsy would always mutter.

"Fangs is going to be fine- especially with Fangface still in there to help pull him through." Biff told him. "Just… don't beat yourself up about it,"

"It's been two months, Biff… he should have awakened up by now," Pugsy let out a heavy sigh. "I just want to be alone, guys… go see how he's doing,"

"Why don't you come with?" Kim asked.

He only shook his head. "Just go."

They sighed- it was hard to reason with someone so miserable. "If you change your mind, give us a call," Biff said, and they left.

He waited for them to leave, before going over to his dresser, pulling out something he had bought three days ago… just in case.


Two Days Later…

"LOOK OUT!"

Everything was black after that. The only things he could feel was scared… and pain. Lots of pain. Normally, whenever he was scared, he would cover his eyes and imagine happy thoughts. This time, however, he retreated to a different part of his mind… one much scarier than getting hit by a truck.

In his mind, he looked around, seeing he was on a dark highway, a full moon being the only light. Near a ditch there was a wrecked motorcycle… and beside it stood a werewolf, which drove him into a panic. "Please don't tell me I died and went to the bad place…" he whimpered.

"Huh? Oh. Nope, you're alive," the werewolf told him… sounding just like him but with more of a gruff edge to his tone, and what also confused him was how he also wore the same cap he wore.

"Are you going to hurt me?"

"Why would I do that? You look like you're already hurt,"

Fangs flinched, feeling the pain he felt earlier, and suddenly his leg, head, ribs, and shoulder were covered in bandages. He looked, and saw the werewolf was the same way. "What the…?"

"Ooh, ooh, guess I got hurt too. …Wish I remembered how, though."

He felt dizzy, looking at the motorcycle… "Did… did you get into an accident on a motorcycle?" he asked.

"I don't know, maybe. (grr) I only remember coming to beside this motorcycle… and hearing Pugsy scream."

"Pugsy! Oh, no… where is he? Is he alright?"

"You know him too?"

"Yeah… he's my best friend. How do you know him?"

"(grr) He's my best friend too!" the werewolf paused, rubbing his bandaged head. "I… I remember the last time I was with him, we were looking at motorcycles, and suddenly I fell asleep. Then, I don't know what happened, but I suddenly heard him screaming, followed by a crash… and I woke up here." he looked at Fangs, with sad eyes. "…do you know what happened to him?"

At that moment, the werewolf didn't seem scary… actually, Fangs was more scared for 'their' best friend than being in the presence of the werewolf. "I remember… what happened," he said, trembling a bit. "He bought a motorcycle, and we hauled it home in my truck. He wanted to prove he could ride it, so we took it out on the highway… suddenly, this truck swerved into our lane, and that's when I woke up here," he looked around. "Are you sure I'm not dead?"

"I'm positive… I think…. but if you're dead, that would mean I'm dead too- unless one of us can talk to ghosts, like that kid in 'The Sixth Sense'." the werewolf looked around. "I'm more worried about Pugs, though… I hope he's okay."

Fangs sat down beside him. "Me too…"

For the longest time, the two sat in silence. "How did you meet Pugs?"

"I was running scared through some woods one night, and ran into him. You?"

"(grr) I met him in the woods too- he ran into me… then ran away from me… then he punched me… but Kim and Biff kept us from killing each other, I saved him from some gangsters, and we became friends quick."

"You know Biff and Kim too?"

"(grr) Sure, I know a lot of people. Sue Chang, Harold Hal Hercules, Professor Boyd, Raquel Taylor… just to name a few."

His eyes widened. "I know all those people too! …What's your name?"

"Fangface."

Fangs paused. He had heard that name brought up by his friends, right before they'd show him some picture of the moon (why, he never understood, but afterwards he'd just black out, possibly from fright). Before so, his friends would always mention 'Fangface' when they were in a tight situation. Was this who they were talking about?

"What's your name?"

"Sherman Fangsworth, but everyone calls me Fangs."

"Fangs… huh, I've heard that name before. Hey! Wait a minute… you have the same last name as my parents!"

"Your parents?"

"Yeah, Kevin and Sally Fangsworth."

Fangs began to tremble again. "What do they look like?"

"Well… my mom has light-brown curly hair and eyes like yours, and my dad kind of has a face like yours but with a mustache and his hair his darker brown- are you okay? You look like you're about to get sick. What's wrong?"

Fangs gulped. "My parents look the same way… when were you born?"

"September 9, 1960."

"…Brooklyn Western Hospital?"

"Yeah! How did you know?"

"I was born on the same date, at the same hospital… and we know the same people, have the same parents… have the same injuries…" he looked at the werewolf. "I'm hoping I'm wrong, but… we might be the same person… er, werewolf-person."

Fangface scratched his head. "Huh. Well, that would explain a lot."

"I think I'm going to faint… but… I would have by now. Why am I still awake?"

"Maybe this is just some weird dream. (grr) You could try fainting after you wake up,"

"I'm really scared now. I wish Pugs were here…"

"You and me both. …Does he yell at you a lot?"

"Sometimes, and he calls me names."

"Me too, but he always apologizes after I growl at him."

"Does he hit you with his hat sometimes?"

"Yeah, yeah… it gets annoying, and one of these days I'm gonna get him for it. (grr)"

For what seemed like days, the two exchanged stories about their adventures with their friends, what it was like blacking out during situations and waking up in an entirely new one, and- for some weird reason- wondering if either of them found a girlfriend (Fangface bringing up the 'Robotic She Wolf' mishap, though stating she wasn't exactly girlfriend material after her attitude changed). Sometimes they'd sit in silence once they ran out of conversation, but always picked it back up when one of them brought up Pugsy.

*beep- beep- beep- beep*

"I hope Pugsy is alright," Fangs said for the thousandth time.

"Me too," Fangface replied as he always did.

*beep- beep- beep- beep*

"You think he survived the crash?" Fangs asked.

"I don't know… I hope so," Fangface replied. "I don't want to lose my best friend,"

"Neither do I. He was the first one I've had my whole life- the first one we've had, I mean."

"I know… I sure miss him."

*beep- beep- beep*

"I hope we can wake up soon, just to see if he's okay,"

"I hope so too… I'm tired of sitting here in the-"

*beep- beep- beep- beep- beep- beep*

"Where the heck is that beeping noise coming from?! (grr)" Fangface demanded.

"I don't know but… hey…" Fangs looked around, seeing that the scenery went from a dark highway to a hospital. "We're in a hospital… what…?"

"Fangs, you're waking up! We're waking up!"

"Ooh, ooh, you're right! We're alive! Maybe Pugs is alive too! Maybe…"

*beep- beep- beep- beep beep beep beepbeepbeepbeep*

Fangs opened his eyes, looking around the room, seeing his parents and friends sitting in chairs. "He's awake!" Kim exclaimed.

Everyone stood around him, stating how thankful they were that he was alright and how worried they were. Biff told him he and Kim had investigated who sold the faulty motorcycle and he had been arrested; his mother kept hugging him (as best she could without upsetting the tubes hooked to him or his damaged ribs); Kim teary eyed and smiling, holding his hand and saying over and over how thankful she was that he's alive; and his father kept asking if he was alright.

He only smiled, though his smile faded as he looked around the room. "What is it, Sherman?" his mother asked.

"Is something wrong?" Kim added.

"No… but… I have a question," Fangs replied, concern filling his mind. "Where's Pugs?"

"He's not here, Sherman." his father replied. "He was sent home days ago,"

"We haven't heard anything from him, either." Biff said, concerned as well.

"I'll call him up and told him the good news," Kim told him, and ran out to use the phone in the hall.

Fangs leaned back, and looked at Biff. "So… I found out I'm a werewolf." he put bluntly.

"How did you figure it out?" Biff asked.

"Met him in my mind… it was weird. How come you never told me before?"

"Well… we were afraid you'd freak out."

"You were never one to take shocking news so well," Mrs. Fangsworth told him.

"You're not upset, are you?" Mr. Fangsworth asked.

"A little, but it's not so bad…" Fangs began to say.

Kim walked back into the room just then, tears in her eyes. "Kim? What is it? What's wrong?" Biff asked.

"I called Pugsy's house… and his mom, she…" Kim sniffled. "She told me something awful. Pugsy's locked himself in his room and won't come out,"

"He's probably still upset over the situation. Once we tell him Sherman is okay-" Mrs. Fangsworth tried to assure.

"That's not it. Last night, she found a receipt in his jean-pockets from a gun-shop… and in the living room, while she was cleaning, she found a piece of paper hidden under one of the couch cushions… it was a suicide note."

"No…" Biff gasped.

Mrs. Fangsworth was right- Fangs didn't take to shock so well, and relapsed back into his mind. Pugsy's going to kill himself… what if he's already dead?! he panicked.

Don't just lie there, go find him! Fangface ordered.

But…

Go!

Whether it was the werewolf's own power or his own, Fangs found himself getting out of bed and- despite the aches in his still-healing wounds- staggering into the hall. "Fangs! Where are you going?" Mr. Fangsworth called as his parents rushed up to him.

"I'm going to see my best friend!" Fangs snapped.

"Not in your condition… you're going to need a ride," Biff said.


He came to in the middle of the street, his father right beside him. "Dad…? What's going on?" he moaned.

"Take it easy, Pugs. You got into a nasty wreck. Some drunk swerved into you," his father answered.

"I know… I tried to dodge him. The brakes on that motorcycle were shot, and I was trying to pull over to the side. Suddenly, Fangs screamed…" he paused. "Where is Fangs?"

His father bit his bottom lip. "During the collision, you were thrown off the bike, landing in the middle of the road. Fangs…"

Out of the corner of his eye, Pugsy saw the motorcycle wrecked by a ditch… and a lanky figure crushed beneath it. "No… NO!" he tried to get up, but pain shot through his body. Still he continued to thrash around. "No! Please, God, not Fangs! Someone help him… help him, HELP HIM!"

He had never been so scared. It was the first time he was ever so frantic that he started to scream at the top of his lungs until his throat was sore, paying no mind to his senses and trying to run. But the pain weighed him down.

He looked to the floor, where a gun sat, loaded with only one bullet. He had locked his door to look at it… never really holding it. No, not unless he heard the news he was expecting- the news that Fangs hadn't survived. That's when he'd pick it up.

His mother continued to knock on the door, seeing if he was alright… becoming frantic every time he didn't answer. He hadn't answered her for three hours, and could hear her sobbing downstairs. I'm hurting everyone no matter what I do… he thought. They'd be hurt if I… do this, but it would go away. They'd learn to understand… wouldn't they?

Beside him were several pieces of paper, crumpled up, torn, or set aside, all messages he had been trying to write for if the moment came, but none of them had a good enough excuse for why he decided to kill himself… but, if something happened to Fangs, he didn't have much of a reason to live. Not if he was the one who caused it.

He heard the door open downstairs, hearing his father call his name- seconds later he heard more voices, frantic it sounded. Suddenly, they were all quieted down… "Let me talk to him," came a voice.

Great… they called in a negotiator… this had better not end up on the news. Pugsy thought bitterly.

There was the sound of footsteps slowly coming up the stairs… followed by a step-slide-stepping sound. It stopped right outside the door. There was a moment of silence, and he waited- waited for some stranger to tell him 'life's worth living' and 'it's not worth it' and stuff like that, as well as the therapy sessions to follow and his father calling up officers to keep him on a 'suicide watch'. The more he thought about it, the more he really wanted to pick up that gun just to get rid of the headache that began to develop.

"Pugs? …please still be alive."

He froze, his head jerking up. Is it really…?

"I'm afraid to open the door… please be alright… I can't stand the sight of blood."

He stood up quick, and unlocked the door. Breathing slowly, he opened the door a crack, peeking out.

"Are you-"

Pugsy opened the door wide, then grabbed his friend, trying to hug him… but with their wounded legs, Pugsy's arm, and Fangs' shoulder and ribs, they ended up falling to the ground. "OOF!" they both cried, sprawling on his bedroom floor.

"Pugs… are you okay?" Fangs grunted.

"Yeah… are you?" Pugsy replied.

"Uh-huh…"

They slowly got up until they were standing again, ignoring the pains… as well as balancing themselves on stationary objects so not to risk breaking anything else, and made their way toward the bed, sitting down on it. After a few breaths, Pugsy picked up the conversation. "Fangs, listen… I'm really sorry about all of this," he told him. "I shouldn't have been such an ignorpotamas on that motorcycle… I should have been more careful. I'm sorry,"

"It's okay, Pugs, it wasn't your fault- it was an accident. Plus, I didn't wear a helmet, so I should share the blame," Fangs replied, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Though… you do owe me an apology for trying to commit suicide. …What were you thinking?! You had me scared!"

Pugsy bowed his head. "I was worried that you wouldn't make it… you were in a coma for two months, and the way you looked in the wreck…" his voice began to tremble, but he took a deep breath- he didn't want to crack now. "I was scared. If you died, I… I couldn't forgive myself."

Fangs nodded. "I guess I can understand that… that's the way I was feeling when we found out you were going to kill yourself. Heck, even Fangface was scared."

"Lets just not bring it up, I… Fangface? How do you know about him?"

"While I was unconscious, we met in a dream. It was freaky at first, but I got over it. It was good to have company in a dark place… we kept thinking about you, though, wondering if you were alive too."

"Guess we both had our moments of paranoia, huh?" He smirked a little, but it faded. "I'm glad you're alive, Fangs… but I still feel awful about what happened."

Fangs put an arm around him. "It's alright, Pugs… everything is alright now." he hugged him. "If it helps, we both forgive you… even though it wasn't your fault. I'm just happy to know my best friend is alive," he paused, feeling teardrops run down his neck. "Pugs… are you…?"

"Yeah… I've been holding them in a while… and you're putting pressure on my bad-arm,"

"Sorry…"

"It's alright… just goes to show I'm still alive… and still got my best friend." he hugged him back.

Fangs bit his bottom lip, tears running down his face. "Promise me you'll never do something like this again, Pugsy… I don't want to lose you,"

"I ain't going anywhere for a while, pal, you can count on that… you don't have to cry about it, either."

"Actually… you're resting your head on my bad shoulder…"

"Sorry about that…"

"It's fine… at least I know I'm still alive too,"

They chuckled, pulling out of their tight (yet painful) hug, wiping away their tears. "C'mon, lets go let the others know we're okay,"

"Ooh, ooh, good idea, they're probably worried sick. Won't they be glad to know we're still up and kicking,"

"Yeah… Oh, Fangs, one more thing."

"What's that?"

"If you tell anyone I cried, you're going to end up in a body-cast."

Fangs rolled his eyes. It was good to be back with his friend.


A/N: Long, dark, dramatic… yet all the while heart-warming.

Me: You're taking therapy.

WG: I don't need it. Writing is my therapy.

Me: You're taking therapy.

WG: I. Don't. NEED it.

Me: I'll make you an appointment.

WG: No way! I've already spent enough time on that couch!

Me: (on phone) Hello, Doctor Scratchensniff? Yes, I need to set an-

WG: YAAAAAH! (tackles ATF)

*PLEASE STAND BY*