Casey was sitting on her bed, still feeling the soft material of the nightgown when her door suddenly opened. She hardly had time to react before Hedwig bounded in.
"Hey!" She was genuinely happy to see him, and more than a little surprised.
"Heya Casey. Guess what I saw today!"
Casey listened as Hedwig launched into a dramatic recounting of the dog he had seen, and she laughed at his easy excitement.
He bounded abruptly off of the bed, "Hey, you wanna play tag?"
Casey perked up. As insane as it sounded, she had so much frustrating energy running through the house after Hedwig sounded like a great plan.
"Sure! I'm it!"
Hedwig's eyes widened and he dashed out of the door, leaving Casey to chase after him.
The made into the living room, circling the couch a few times, Hedwig kept laughing so much he almost ran into things, making Casey laugh so hard she almost fell over.
He darted for the kitchen and she sprinted after him, hand out-stretched, almost reaching him, when Hedwig suddenly stopped in place and turned.
She smacked into him, about to ask him what he was doing when hands suddenly gripped her waist in a painful vice.
She felt the hiss of breath, the tremors and cracks as he changed and Casey's eyes turned upward as if pulled by a sick force to stare into the face of the beast.
She saw the blood from his mouth and anger flashed that he had cut through the little boy's body to be here. Hedwig didn't deserve that. None of them did.
"They've been keeping you from me..." he growled, shoulders moving as he panted in air. Casey trembled, trying to look brave anyway.
"What do you mean."
His hands tightened further and Casey couldn't hold back the gasp of pain.
"I. am coming for you. There is no escape."
"w-w-when?" Casey gasped, unable to look away from the black anger in his eyes as the beast's face leaned into hers.
"Soooon." the word trembled into her.
Before she could ask anything else, the beast lurched suddenly, growling fiercely. Its hands locked around her, dragging her down as it crumbled. She was tangled against it, struggling to move, to breath as it twisted and lurched before falling deathly still, body crushing her beneath it.
Then with a jerk its chest expanded with air and she felt hands, rough but gentler now, pushing her out from under him.
He groaned as his body fell back onto the ground, and he shook in a way that terrified her.
"Casey. I'm sorry. Casey. I shouldn't have."
He groaned when Casey touched him, as she pulled on his arm, trying to get him up.
"Come on, Dennis. You need to rest."
He was a dead weight, and she tried to tug him up.
"Dennis the floor is dirty," she snapped and she heard him grunt, heard him mutter something that sounded like an eyeroll as he got his hands under him.
He staggered up, exhausted and in obvious pain, and Casey pressed herself against his side, his crutch as they shuffled toward the bedroom. He half fell into the bed, his face darkening as he cursed himself for being so weak.
Casey helped him lie back, her hands beginning to tremble as she pulled the blankets over him, saw his head sink into the pillow. Her entire body was shaking by the time she had him safely in. Then, weak with her own fear, Casey climbed onto the bed beside him. He didn't move as she slipped down beside him, huddling into his side. She was too afraid to leave him, too afraid to be alone. She settled just against him, resisting the urge to bury into his chest, and counted her breaths as he slept.
Dennis woke slowly, groaning into consciousness as the dark of sleep pulled on his mind like sludge. He was in his bed. There was warm beside him. Casey was stretched, a light weight against his side. Her head just barely rested on his arm, but her hand had closed around his fingers that lay between then. He blinked, trying to remember what had happened.
"Dennis?" There came a whisper at his side, a soft breath of relief and Casey pushed herself up as he blinked. "Is that you?
His eyes found her face. It was pale and wane, her eyes reddened with the remnant of tears. He remembered suddenly her burst of laughter while watching that movie, the way her eyes had sparkled before they had met his own and the light died.
She never looked happy with him.
He never gave her any reason to be.
"What happened?" Dennis asked, pressing up on his elbows. Casey's hands went to his chest, as if to keep him from rising, and Dennis stilled, staring at them there as she answered.
"Hedwig and I were playing, but then, the beast, he..."
Dennis closed his eyes, groaning. He'd given Hedwig the light. The beast had taken over.
Hedwig's panicked screeches had reached him almost too late. The beast had been almost fully formed by the time Dennis had reached for the light. Dennis fell back, remembering the feeling of fighting the beasts hold on the light. It was like tearing through a layer of his body, skin and blood ripped away as he grated against the beast, vying for the light. He almost hadn't managed it.
Casey's gasped as Dennis collapsed back beneath her hands, his body beginning to convulse.
"Dennis?" She heard the panicky breath in her voice, "Dennis!"
She gripped his shoulders, not having any idea what to do, almost sobbing with relief when his body calmed. She fell forward, her head landing in the small dib in his chest, buried into his neck. His breath evened out, the chest rising and falling beneath her. Casey curled against him, tears falling into him, listening to him breathe. He had stopped the beast and she swore it had almost killed him. Guilt passed dimly in the back of her mind, knowing how negatively Dennis reacted to her touch. The little voice growing stronger until Casey forced herself to straighten and back away.
It wasn't fair to him, when he was weak and sleeping, to curl against his body just because she needed to feel his strength. Needed to feel the proof that he was ok, that the beast had been pushed back. She stretched out beside him, careful to keep a sliver of distance between, her eyes locked on the rhythm of his chest as he slept.
Hunger pushed her from her place some time later, and Casey padded softly to the kitchen. She fixed herself a quick sandwich, throwing together whatever she found onto some bread.
It eased the pang, and Casey carefully began constructing another. She laid the meat and cheese symmetrically on the bread, cutting it in an even line, not wanting to stress Dennis any more than his body already was.
She carried the plate back to the room, pushing the door gently open. She started when she saw Dennis was sitting up, feet hanging off of the bed, preparing to stand.
Setting the plate down on the end table, Casey came forward, slipping against him as he stood, steading him.
He blinked heavily down at her like he wasn't sure how he had gotten there, his arms hanging by his sides.
"You shouldn't be up," Casey tried to sound stern, but her voice was light as she stared up at him. Exhaustion was etched into every feature, deepening them, shading them grey.
"I need to shower." He spoke evenly, but Casey felt him sway and she used her body to guide him back to sit on the edge of the bed.
"No, you can't."
"I need to wash it off of me." Dennis muttered, darkly, and a spark flashed in his eye, like desperate anger, and Casey shivered a little at the sight of him slowly returning in strength.
"After you shower will you sleep?" Casey asked. His face was blank as he nodded.
Biting her lip, Casey moved back, letting him stand. He swayed, but waved her off roughly, and Casey followed just beside as he crossed to the bathroom.
Briefly she wondered what she had any hope of doing if he fell. Too well she remembered the weight of that body crushing her, and she shuddered.
He stepped in the bathroom, standing in the middle of the floor. Casey stepped around him to turn on the water, letting the shower heat, pretending not to notice the way his hands fumbled with the button of his shirt.
They slipped clumsily, completely lacking their normal dexterity and she watched his hands fall to his sides. His face turned skyward and he breathed out a long, frustrated puff of breath.
Casey crossed the small room, filled with the sound of falling water, covering the silence between. She stepped in front of Dennis, her gaze traveling over his face, his eyes closed in frustration as his jaw worked, as if trying to hold back anger he was too weak to do anything with.
She pretended not to notice her fingers weren't trembling as Casey gently reached forward, finding the button at his throat.
He jerked slightly at her touch, his hands coming out to steady himself, gripping the only thing close to him. She tried to ignore the way his fingers closed around her arms, wrapping the back of each elbow, almost like it was him steadying her.
She felt unsteady. Her eyes fixed on the button in front of her until her fingers had freed it and she lowered them simply to the next one. His hands moved with her arms, not releasing them.
He seemed trapped, frozen in widening uncertainty as her hands moved down his shirt. She stared at each button, gaze not moving until it was free and she could look to the next.
Her fingers found the last, and she watched her hands part the grey fabric, press against the neat white undershirt beneath. They traced upward, pushing the over shirt open, lost in the simple movement. There were tremors beneath her fingertips. She worried he was growing too weak to stand.
Her hands reached his chest and they widened, pushing the shirt towards his shoulders.
His fingers tightened slightly on her arms, steading himself as Casey pushed the shirt over his shoulders, her fingers brushing bare skin at the edge of his undershirt.
She heard his sharp intake of breath, made the mistake of glancing up. His gaze was fixed on her, frozen and intent, wide with something Casey didn't understand.
Her body stepped closer, his fingers flexing on her arms as she pushed the shirt off his shoulders, her hands tracing the line of his biceps, trailing against his skin.
"Casey," he whispered, sounding slightly strangled as Casey stepped nearer so she could pull the shirt further down.
"Casey, stop." It was a desperate gasp, and Casey looked up as something cold filled her. She took in his expression, lit with panicked desperation, and Casey felt her stomach drop.
"I was just trying to help," she whispered thickly, clasping her hands to herself, "I didn't mean to touch you. I shouldn't have."
"No, you shouldn't have," he agreed gruffly, but when she tried to step back, he hadn't let her go. He was staring at the floor between them, as if he was trying to summon the strength for the simple action of releasing her arms. Casey drew in a breath, forcing away embarrassment, she tried to be honest. She didn't know what had come over her.
"You're right. I know you don't want me touch-"
His hands suddenly seized on her arms, his head whipping up to stare at her with something dark raging inside, like fire burning so hot it was black.
"You don't know what I want." he growled, and Casey's stomach flipped at the sound. He was moving, pushing her backward until her back met the wall beside the shower and he nearly pressed against her.
"The others, they hate me for what I want, how I want."
He trembled above her, part of her thinking he was out of control, but knowing inside of her that control was the only thing holding him back.
Dennis was raging, black desire slamming against the reason in his mind. He was weak, so disgustingly weak and his control was slipping, dangerously slipping. Her hands against him, her body so close, it seared deep into his mind and he spun into the memory like a downward spiral.
"I am not Barry." He bit the words at her, hands shaking her arms slightly with each word as if trying to force her to understand. "You don't touch me like you touch him."
She couldn't tell what it was, a warning? A demand? He broke back from her suddenly, harsh anger melding with the molten steel in his eye, and Casey shivered as the air that had been compressed from between them suddenly rushed back.
"Get out."
Dennis watched Casey blink, pressing back into the wall as if she could disappear. He didn't have the energy to warn her again. He turned his back, listening to her retreat from the room, feeling his walls slip back into place.