Chapter 9

Matthew's grip tightened on Barnabas' wrist. He looked at his father, with something akin to joy. Barnabas realised with absolute horror, that he's son was enjoying this. He was actually getting some deranged pleasure out of it.

For a moment, he'd entertained the notion that he's son was simply trying to frighten him, and that he was only bluffing. If he'd wanted to frighten him, he had succeeded, he was frightened; badly.

Horror and fear on his face, he asked, in terrified disbelieve, "Matthew, surely you don't really want to do this?"

Matthew ignored him, instead he pulled his father's arm slightly, forcing Barnabas to take a step closer, but still remain enough in shadow, with only his arm, and hand showing in what would soon be in the path of the first rays of the rising sun.

"Please, Matthew!" he begged fearfully. "Please, do not do this!"

He began to struggle; the need to survive despite his detestable existence was strong. Matthew's grip became tighter. "I told you'd I'd break it," he said, coldly. "You know that I can."

"Matthew, let me go, please!" he begged, as the sun finally began to rise. "You don't have to do this! Matthew!"

Matthew remained deaf to his father's pleas of release, as he watched the sun begin to rise.

"No!" wailed Barnabas, as he felt the first rays touch his skin. "No!

Matthew's face became set, with fascination. A sneer Barnabas never thought he'd see on his son's face, shocked him to the core. That he's son would even consider doing what he now was utterly terrified him.

Barnabas cried out, as pain flashed from his hand and arm, travelling up to his shoulder. He tried to pull away, but Matthew held him firmly.

"Matthew!" he hissed his fangs exposed, in his grimace of pain and agony.

His face contorted, as the pain intensified. He could feel his hand, beginning to burn. Resistance was futile, as Matthew held him prisoner. He thought of vanishing, as he had countless times before, when faced with danger or an enemy, but Matthew's threat of hunting him down, and dragging him bodily into the sun, stopped him. He quite believed that he would carry out his threat. Fear kept him rooted to the spot.

Smoke began to raise form his exposed hand and arm, and Barnabas screamed in agony. "Matthew, please stop!" he wailed, his face paler than ever before, contorted with his agony.

His hand burst into flames, as the sun fell fully on it, and Barnabas sank to his knees with a moan.

With a flourish, Matthew released him, and Barnabas scuttled back into the shadows, cradling his hand, whimpering. He'd never felt such immense agony.

"Go on, crawl back to the darkness, like the worm you are!" hissed Matthew bending down, his face inches away from his father's face. "If I ever see you again…"

Barnabas heard no more. He vanished from his son's sight, before he could change his mind.

/

Matthew walked out into the sun; the feeling of pleasure, or the rush, he had expected, wasn't there. A wave of nausea washed over him, and he just had time to double over, as he vomited close to a clump of trees.

Still feeling ill, he wiped absently at his mouth when the wave had passed.

He suddenly felt very tired, as though he hadn't any sleep or rest for days. A slight breeze sprang up as he headed towards the path that would lead to the village, and for just a moment, he smelt something, he thought he recognised. He paused, frowning, as he sniffed at the air, experimentally. The scent came again, but was gone before he could be certain if it had ever been there. Thinking it was his imagination, he continued on his trek back to the village.

/

As Barnabas slumbered in his coffin, once more safely hidden from the daylight, a form tried to take shape beside his coffin, the scent Matthew had thought he'd imagined, was stronger here.

The vague form touched the closed lid of the coffin, almost fervidly. Slowly the coffin lid rose, with invisible hands, revealing the sleeping occupant. The form tried once more to make itself known, but couldn't quite do so. With a soft sight, it reached out, to gently touch a pallid cheek. A sobbing sound echoed around the hidden room, at the sight of the raw hand, before the lid slowly closed and the ghostly form faded. The sobbing echoed moments after the shape had gone, and then, that too, stopped.

/

When he reached the cottage, Sebastian was already up, having his breakfast. He watched the younger boy, carefully. He frowned. "Matthew, are you alright? You don't look well at all."

"I'm just tired," he said truthfully, sitting down heavily at the table, and covering his face with his hands.

Sebastian continued to watch him closely. "Well, its obvious you haven't been for your morning run," he said, trying to draw him into a conversation.

"I haven't. In fact, all I want to do, is crawl into bed, and sleep until next year."

"Had any luck with finding Dane?"

"No," sad Matt, slowly rising to his feet. "I'm too tired for this, Sebastian," he said, heading out of the kitchen.

Sebastian continued to watch him as he left, the frown deepening. Something had happened to him, but what? Could it be possible that he was finally beginning to listen to his father's innocence? Still, the fatigue he felt was worrying. He rose from the table, his breakfast things in hand. After clearing away, he made a fresh cup of coffee, and then headed into the living room, and after searching through a number of volumes, began to read.

/

Later in the afternoon, Matthew returned to the Cannery, and began working restoring the boat. He'd just finished giving it the first coat of paint when he sensed that he wasn't alone. He paused in his work, and turned to find Ben, watching him.

"Thought I might find you here," he said, squatting down to see what his friend had been doing. "How is it going?"

"Slowly," said Matt, with a sigh. He put the brush down and glanced around. "Where's Megan?" he asked, curiously.

"Right now the far away from me, the better," stated Ben, in a tone that indicated he didn't really want to talk about it.

"Oh," said Matt, quietly, turning back to the boat, so his friend couldn't see his expression. "You two still fighting, huh?"

"I didn't come here, to talk about Megan," said Ben, bluntly. "How about coming down to Logansport with me? Just to get out of town for a while? You look like you could do with a change of scenery, too."

Matt hesitated, and then turned to his friend. "Alright, there's nothing much I can do anyway, until this dries."

/

Sebastian looked up from his writing at the quite knock on the door. He glanced at his watch, and frowned at the lateness.

He opened the door, and was surprised to find Barnabas in the doorway.

"Barnabas, please come in," he invited.

Barnabas entered the cottage slowly, his eyes moving restlessly around the cottage.

"I was beginning to think that perhaps you wouldn't be coming tonight," went on Sebastian, not noticing Barnabas' uneasiness. "You're rather late for your injection," he added, closing the door, turning to face his guest.

He frowned. "Barnabas, are you all right?" he asked, a hint of worry in his voice.

"Yes, I'm fine," said Barnabas, slowly. "Is... Matthew, here?" he asked, carefully, hoping that he's question didn't seem too odd.

"No, he isn't," said Sebastian, continuing to watch him carefully. "He went to the Cannery late this afternoon, and I haven't seen him, since. He's probably out with Ben and Megan. Barnabas, are you sure you're alright?"

Barnabas held himself stiffly, his right arm hidden from sight within the cape of his Inverness. He looked pale, and nervous. "I'm fine," he said, again, and fought the agony he felt from his injured hand.

Sebastian's curiosity was aroused. He came closer to the vampire. "Forgive my saying so, Barnabas, but you terrible."

Barnabas chuckled, albeit briefly. "I assure you, Sebastian, I'm fine."

"Well, if you're sure," Sebastian finally relented, reluctantly. "Well, if you'll get ready, I'll give you the injection."

He crossed over to his desk, and unlocked one of the drawers. He turned, with syringe and serum ready, and Barnabas still remained where he was, coat and all. "Barnabas?" he questioned. "Didn't you hear me?"

Fighting back against the pain, he said, through gritted teeth, "I won't be having the...injection tonight."

"Are they starting to fail again?" he asked, concerned, coming over to him again. "Barnabas, you must tell me."

"No…they haven't started to fail again," said Barnabas, and Sebastian saw a grimace cease his face.

"Barnabas, you're in pain!" he said, in surprise.

"It'll pass," he assured him. "I'll be alright in a few days."

"Barnabas, if the injections are the reason..."

"They aren't!" he insisted, and turned away from his friend.

Greatly concerned, Sebastian put down the things he was holding. "Barnabas, I demand you tell me what's going on!" he said, in a tone that brooked no argument.

Barnabas chuckled derisively, and turned to face the Watcher. "You demand?" he asked haughtily, raising his head slightly, almost appearing to look down his nose at the other man.

"Yes!" said Sebastian, resolutely. "You must tell me, Barnabas!" he said, in a tone that Barnabas, knew well, and longed to hear again.

His bravado fell, as he half turned away from Sebastian. "You almost sound like Julia," he said quietly.

"I'll take that, as a compliment, then," said Sebastian, his mouth twitching into a smile. It quickly vanished, as he's expression became one of horror, and shock. "Barnabas!" he cried. "Your hand!"