Return Of The Demon


A/N: I hope this will be a nice chapter for you all. Get's a little more "funk-ified" from here on out. More strange happenings, more killing, and still a future appearence by a familiar character or two wink wink. Don't forget my friends, Janice's past is still to come!

Thank you all for the reviews! You have made this my most popular story and I thank you so much!


Chapter Nine

Sweeney changed his shirt, taking his time as he did so. The metallic smell of blood filled the air, the delicious scent making him smile. He did have to admit, it was a rather harsh thing to do, killing a man with a daughter. Even before striking, he knew it was wrong, but he'd be damned if it hadn't felt so good anyway. It was an itch that needed to be scratched. Sure the guilt was starting to sink in, but that wasn't anything compared to the eagerness that would wash over it with another kill.

Behind him, slumped in the chair, head against his chest, blood still trickling and gurgling down his neck, sat Darren James. During his momentary convulsions the curtain had fallen off and to floor, fortunately catching some of the blood that was dripping down. Sweeney reached down for the material and dabbed at the scarlet puddles with ease, inhaling the dead smell that inhabited the air.

"I quite thank you Mr. James. It was an honor," Sweeney smirked, "It really was. Come along on now." Sweeney couldn't help but feel slightly mad talking to something dead, full well knowing it wouldn't respond. Throwing the curtain back over the corpse's shoulder and slung it in such a way as so he could lean over and haul the body over his shoulder. Almost immediately, Sweeney's knees gave a protesting tremble, muscles in his thighs screaming in pain and making him cringe.

Sweeney had certainly not been ready for that as he allowed the body to slide off him and onto the chair once more. As the weight shifted away, his legs seemed to sigh with relief but Sweeney could now feel that awkward wrenched feeling you got when you pull a muscle. Like something inside you isn't as tight as it should be.

Plopping down on the edge of the bed, Sweeney thought, placing his chin in the palm of his hand, brow furrowed in thought. He stared at the sagging body in concentration as if the answer would appear upon it's mangled flesh. He had to think fast and he knew it. At the most, a shave should take at least fifteen minutes tops, if you're trying not only to be careful, but quick. If he didn't come up with something fast, not only would Janice start to get curious, but Geoffrey, already constantly breathing down his neck, would only become more suspicious.

Sweeney sighed and stood. There really was no other choice. He'd have to ignore the pain just like he had so many years ago. If he was able to do it for fifteen years, he sure as hell could pull it off in ten minutes at the most. With a grueling grunt, Sweeney hefted the man over his shoulder, his forehead wrinkling as pain flared up his legs. Staggering a moment, Sweeney shifted the body and stumbled forward and fumbled for the bathroom door.

A knock made him jump.

"Mr. Todd? Mr. Todd? It's awfully quiet in there! Are you two alright?" It was Janice. Damn it all. Sweeney twisted the knob, jerked open the door, and deposited the body on the floor all in one fluid motion. He closed the door with a silent click behind him.

"Mr. Todd? Mr.-ah, Mr. Todd. How are things going? I came to see if-" Janice stopped, glancing over Sweeney's shoulder. She was silent for a long time, just staring until she looked at Sweeney, something curious in her eyes.

"Where Mr. James?" She asked, her voice monotonous, no rise or range to it. The same pitch the entire way through. Sweeney looked over his shoulder for dramatic effect and then turned back to Janice, a small grin on his face.

"I let him out back, through the bathroom. It was easier, and faster. He's fine, well shaved, and has promised to come back." Sweeney said, making sure to keep his voice reassuring. Janice gave him a dangerous look, her eyes sharpening. The next thing out of her mouth surprised him.

"What'd you do to him?" Sweeney didn't say anything, remembering to keep his face impassive.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about Janice." Sweeney said calmly. Janice's eyes narrowed and she folded her arms across her chest. She cocked her head, the sudden bitterness of her mood palpable.

"That man has a daughter."

"I know that. He got upset when I mentioned her."

"He doesn't want no other man going after her. Only her fiancée. He gets so touchy about her." Janice said, nothing changing in her expression and stature. Sweeney glared at her, anger boiling inside of him. The box of blades was less than five feet from where he stood, on the window sill...

"I wasn't going to chase after her. I have no intention doing so." Sweeney retorted.

"What'd you do to that man?" Janice repeated, her eyes searching over his shoulder. Sweeney was well aware that the room had that bloody, rusty scent hanging in the air. Perhaps that's what she was getting all fired up over. But for the oddest reason, Sweeney didn't think so. And even more strange was that the feeling that Janice was crazy was starting to work it's way back into his head.

"I would've thought you to have some sense, Mr. Todd," Janice sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose, "Never kill those who have ties in the outside world." Sweeney's heart nearly leapt out of his chest. He wanted to hit the old hag as a gentle smirk graced her features.

"Janice, I would never kill another man. Especially one who was going to walk his daughter down the aisle next spring." Sweeney bit back. Janice raised an eyebrow, giving him a fond smile that made him feel sick to his stomach.

"He tell you that before you let the blood spill?" Janice said as-a-matter-of-factly.

What was that thing you did to stay alive again? Oh right...breathing.

Sweeney didn't move, couldn't move. Jesus Christ, it felt like every fucking limb was weighed down with lead or iron or steel or whatever the hell else was really heavy. He let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. And when he regained focus, Janice was no longer standing in front of him, but rather in the room, eyeing the chair cautiously.

"Tell me you at least found a suitable place to put him? Bodies rot fast and they give off a great stink." Janice frowned as she stared at a bright red spot on the floor. Sweeney stared at her. This was not the reaction he was expecting. He had mostly figured if she had found out what he was doing (and it certainly surprised him that only after one kill, and without any suspicion from her at all, that she had jumped to the sudden conclusion of him killing a man...rather remarkable really), that he would most likely end up killing her himself and just walk away. He had done it before and he would do it again.

Now all he could do was just stand there and stare.

A loud "Mary Mother of God" caught Sweeney's attention. Janice had moved past him again and was standing in the bathroom doorway, her eyes down-cast as he knew her to be staring at the body.

"That's a bloody mess you've made there, Love." Janice sighed and closed the door with a shake of the head, looking paler than usual. Not that he could blame her...and unconsciously, whether out of habit or self defense, Sweeney had gotten a hold of the box of blades and had one, glinting and shining, in his hands. Janice stared from the silver to Sweeney, to the blade once more, and then met his eyes.

"Don't even think about it Benjamin." She said curtly. Sweeney showed no movement nor emotion, although something exploded in the back of his brain.

"What'd you say?" Sweeney asked, advancing upon her, blade still in hand. Her eyes flickered up and down again, from the blade to his dark eyes.

"Benjamin, please. Put that away before you hurt yourself."

"Don't say that. You don't know me." Sweeney snapped, twitching a bit. It took him a moment to realize the foreign feeling that he was grappling with, and when it came down to it, he still denied it. He wasn't angry, or upset, but he was scared. He refused to believe it, but it was still there, haunting him. Watching this woman who had seemed so gentle, if not crazy at some points (which he was sure of now), was standing in front of him, face unreadable, calling him by a name he had left so many years ago.

"Love, put down the knife."

"Stop talking like that. Stop it." Sweeney growled, but his grip faltered all the same. Mrs. Lovett's screams echoed through his head again. They hurt and his head groaned painfully, making him wince. She saw this and smiled. He hated her more than anything else in the world at the moment, wanting nothing more than to hurt her, make her scream, make her bleed.

"Don't you look at me like that." Janice said sternly. She sounded like a mother telling her child not to pout or he wouldn't get the ice cream he was promised on the way home. Sweeney was breathing hard now, the pounding of blood in his head making his temples throb.

"Benjamin Barker, I know what you did." A name he had abandoned no more than a decade ago, flew from her mouth. Sweeney dropped the blade to the floor at the sound of it, the name sound almost as foreign as "ten years" did. Almost.

"You can't fool a woman. There's just no real way.

"You can't fool me especially at this age.

"You think I am mindless, and maybe that's so.

"But dumb I am not, and that you must know." She sang gently. Sweeney backed away, not wanting to come to terms that he was frightened by this woman. This mad, crazy, insane, out of her ever-loving mind bitch who only thought she knew him.

"I too know the joy, in seeing the red.

"I too know the pain, of words left unsaid.

"And here you are before me, a past that I know.

"And here I am before you, with a past I don't show.

"They used to call me crazy, that loveless drove me mad.

"They called me un-motherly, with a son without a dad.

"They know nothing of what they speak, I know it's true.

"I loved my son dearly, but his life is now through.

"We all get up and move on, even if it hurts.

"And let things as before us, in hopes it doesn't worse.

"I stand here before you, with a secret I won't tell.

"And a past that you won't know, until you're in Hell." Janice fell silent, the expression on her face suddenly scared. She realized she had maybe said to much. Sweeney felt a burst of courage flood his system and he straightened, his eyes narrowing.

"What did you do Janice?"

"He called me crazy, didn't he?"

"I asked you a question."

"I bet he said I killed someone...my son. Did he say I killed my son?"

"I'm the one asking-"

"He did, didn't he? I would never-I could never-I-"

"Janice! What did you do?" Sweeney shouted, feeling a mad rush of delight as the old woman cringed away from him in surprise. She shook her head rapidly, her white hair falling askew. She put her hands up in defense and looked at the bathroom door.

"That is for another time. Hurry! We must take Mr. James out back," Janice urged, but Sweeney didn't move, "Please, Love, all will be explained. Someday. Sometime. I promise." She looked haggled and huffed, s light sheen of sweat breaking out across her head.

"What'd you do Janice. What...did...you...do?" Sweeney emphasized each word angrily. He wanted answers. She knew who he was, she did something terrible, she knew who he was, she had killed someone, she knew who he was, she might have killed her son, and she knew who he was. She froze and then moved for the bathroom, Sweeney catching her by the upper arm. She glared at him coldly.

"I did a lot of things, Mr. Todd," She answered, yanking out of his grasp, her gaze suddenly going soft, "Now help me, Love. We don't want Geoffrey to see this mess we've gotten ourselves into." The word "we" made Sweeney so infuriated, white spots danced before his eyes. There had been no "we", there was no "we", and there was never going to be a "we".

"Well, come on! Me old bones can't do this by themselves," Janine hissed as bones popped loudly as she bent over Mr. James, "You were thinking of the trench, yes? That'll be good for now. It's a nice thing I'm the caretaker of a cemetery."

"Yes, it'll prove useful when I bury you in it's dirt." Sweeney whispered. Janice looked up, her gaze questioning.

"What was that, Love?" She asked curiously. Sweeney shook his head, giving her hard look. She didn't say anything and looked away, muttering words he couldn't hear. He had the insane urge to try and listen but didn't. He didn't want to know almost as much as he did.

"Good," She finally huffed, taking Mr. James by his shoulders, "Then help me take him out."


Looks like Janice is a little more f'd up than we thought, eh? If you're still interested, stay tuned and see what happens!

Btw, trust me, the story is rolling now!