12

Floyd blinked and for a moment thought he was flying. He was laying down and yet moving along laying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. There was strip lighting, white tiles and dare he even think that he could hear the thrum of air conditioning… nah… would have been nice though. He sat up and realised that he was being dragged along on a hospital bed.

'Spencer?' His voice was low and rough. He coughed and spoke again. The result was delightful! Really it was. Spencer was on him and wrapping his arms around him. Floyd got a kiss on the nose and then on the mouth. Fingers twisted through his hair and Floyd really wouldn't have been surprised if Spencer had offered sexual favours… nay! Insisted on them. There was no time.

'There's no time.' Floyd spoke into Spencer warm sweet mouth. 'I don't know how long we have. Quick, where are we? What happened to Sam.'

Floyd jumped down from the bed and gave a good show at disguising how shaky and wobbly he was feeling. He listened to Spencer's chatter, chatter… chat… blah, blah, blah… on and on and on… repeating the same thing… then Floyd just tuned out and walked to the bed Sam was laying on. The continual noise, a low buzzing of voice was going on in Floyd's ear as he looked down at Sam. Spencer had placed them both on hospital beds and was pushing one and pulling the other. Their things were hanging from the ends off the beds.

'He's going to be unhappy about that.' Floyd muttered over Spencer's drone.

'I'm not actually asleep.' Sam groaned. 'How bad is it?'

Floyd turned to Spencer and then looked back at Sam again. 'Have either of you slept today? Yesterday? Because you see it's sort of important that you do. Sammy-boy, you've got a gash up your mug and some glass in your eye. Well, you've got glass where your eye used to be, but before you get all dramatic, it doesn't matter because this is the dream. You need to sleep here so that you will awaken there. Does that make sense?' Floyd plucked the largest bit of glass out of Sam's eye socket and dropped it to the floor. This action as accompanied by much screaming and gnashing of teeth on Sam's behalf and a soft moan of disgust on Spencer's. 'I don't know how much time I have. I had to top some pretty boy who was trying to keep me awake. If we sleep over there we are awake here… vice versa. Get it? Pretty soon I'm going to be awake again and you two will do something else totally ridiculous. Well done on getting here though. You did good.' He now pulled on the glass in Sam's shoulder. 'What you need to do is this.' Floyd whispered secrets which he didn't want anyone else to hear… 'Get some sleeping pills and take as many as you can without killing yourself. You don't want to be dead, but you need to sleep. That way you will awaken over there. We are certainly in The Bastion. I am working on a plan but it's very vague.'

'Plan.' Spencer muttered. 'What sort of plan? How can we help?'

'As I said – it's very vague.'

'How vague?' Sam was still gritting his teeth and his voice came out as a muffled hiss.

'Oh – quite.' Floyd nodded. 'It's at the beginning of the planning stages.'

Spencer frowned. 'How near to the beginning?'

'It's at that point where I've just decided to make a plan. Stop fucking nagging me! I'm doing what I can. You're both still alive, but Sam… I think you're in trouble. Be nice. Be very nice. Keep your hands off our genitals and just…'

'Be nice?' Sam asked. 'Why. What have they got planned.'

Floyd turned to Spencer. 'If we were to be killed we would already be dead. That's not their plan. This is some kind of experiment. And they actually can't kill me. They can exorcise me and they can throw me down, or imprison me, but they can't kill me. I am – one of god's creatures – it's forbidden.' He thought briefly at how he'd killed Ashwin and then forgot about it again. 'Spencer you are too. They wont kill you.' Now, let's find something to clean Sam's wounds up with shall we? Don't look so worried.'

Sam snagged at Floyd's arm. 'They wont kill me either?'

That was such a pleading tone that Floyd was almost tempted to lie, but this was one occasion when the truth hurt so much that it was not possible to lie. 'No, Sam… Sammy-boy… my darling sweet little cunt-boy.' Floyd clicked his fingers in Sam's face. 'As quickly as that. They would and they probably will. You're nothing. You were created in hell my sweet thing and yes, they'll wipe you out of existence if they feel the need. Vivisection.' Again Floyd turned to Spencer.

'They'd not dare! They…' Without looking behind him, Floyd rested a hand o Sam's leg.

'No time to discuss how the bureaucracy works… no time. I could fall down asleep at any minute. Remember what you have to do. Sleep. When you are sleeping, your dreams are the reality. This is your dream. You are sleeping.'

Spencer understood. Sam understood and didn't like it one tiny bit. 'So you suggest that I sleep here where I am mostly alive and go somewhere where they're going to cut me open and see how my insides work? And I'll be alive? I'll be awake?'

Too many questions and not enough time. Floyd started to push Sam's bed down the corridor. 'Do the elevators work?' There was a small positive sound from Spencer and a whining cry of distress from Sam.

As it happened they didn't end up using the elevator. There was a small hospital pharmacy which Floyd raided quickly, taking only what he really needed. He grabbed some dressings and sticky tape and got to work on Sam right there. He told Spencer to go find a machine or something with drinks in it other that water. 'I'd even drink some of the herbal green tea shit.' He informed Spencer. 'Take a gun! Don't go anywhere unarmed. Never. Understand me?'

He understood. Maybe he didn't like the idea of wandering off alone again, but he understood. 'He's going to be all right?' Spencer gestured to Sam who now had a big white pad covering his eye. If this was a dream though, what good was fixing Sam up going to do? 'Can I have a quick word in private?' Spencer had a gun stuffed in his pocket and was jigging from foot to foot. He watched Floyd pat Sam on the arm and say something in his ear and then walked off quickly with Spencer.

'Be quick. I don't have much time.' He spoke quietly, but probably his voice still travelled to Sam's ears.

'Why are you fixing up Sam? Can't we just go to sleep and try to wake up… If you get my meaning.' Spencer was still jigging foot to foot like a junky needing his next fix. It wasn't the first time and probably wouldn't be the last he'd seen Spencer like this. He seemed hyped up to the gills. Ready to explode into junky boy action.

Floyd took his arm and pulled him close. He breathed in Spencer's scent and rested his head on Spencer's shoulder. His voice was quiet and muffled. 'Because I love him? Because if it was you I'd do the same? Because I can't stand to see him in that mess… and probably because if I help him here I'm helping him elsewhere. I'm attempting to show them that I care for you. That I need you as much as you need me.' He stood back slightly now but took Spencer's hand and walked a short way down the corridor and around the corner. Here he pushed Spencer against the wall and placed his hands on Spencer's shoulders. 'Initially, I was sent… not by Them, but by the lot who have us now. I was told to go protect you. Guardian Angel shit. That's what I've been doing. I can't not do it. I have no desire to stop doing it, but Spencer… I need to show them that I'm still up to the job, even if my methods are not always to their liking.' He moved away from Spencer and walked to a vending machine and prodded buttons that didn't work. 'You're special. Not second coming of Christ sort of special, but you have so much to offer. So much to give. But they've put me in a situation where they have put you in danger and I feel I'm going to have to kill the bastards to get you out of it.' He pointed to the machine. 'I'm really tired. Get me something with caffeine in it. Something to keep me awake. I'm going to see to Sam and knowing how difficult he is to sedate, I'm going to have to force him to sleep.'

'My Guardian Angel.' Spencer looked around him, felt the weight of the gun in his pocket, saw the stress on Floyd's face and Sam's blood on Floyd's hands. 'You're doing a bang up job. I'll get you a drink. Go see to Sam.'

Spencer used the butt of the gun to cause some minor vandalism to the vending machine. It wasn't easy to smash his way in, but not impossible either. Between each crack of noise he made he could hear Sam's wailing of pain – or annoyance; it was hard to tell which it was, but eventually he had three bottles of coke in his hands. The gun back in his pocket and a quiet apology to the machine and Spencer was walking back to the corner.

Floyd was bent over Sam muttering, when Spencer arrived back again. That was his first concern. Sam's shouts were his second.

'Don't! Don't you dare! Don't fall asleep! Floyd!'

Spencer could see Sam's hands moving rapidly over Floyd but it wasn't until he was up close that he could see that Sam was pinching and scratching at him. Floyd though was still mumbling… he wasn't asleep again yet. Spencer thrust an open bottle into Floyd's hand and as he looked up to take it a spray of blood issued from his mouth as though someone had punched or kicked him in the face. Floyd's hand raised to take the bottle but never made it. He gave Spencer a slightly alarmed look and folded up onto the floor.

'They're killing him! Do something! Wake him up!' Sam was now trying to scrabble off the bed, but Spencer was shaking his head.

'Sam.' He grabbed him and pushed him back onto the hospital bed. 'There is nothing we can do. They're woken him up. His part in this dream is over. Now we have to go too. You need to sleep.' He picked up the sleeping pills Floyd had taken from the pharmacy and looked at them. Floyd had said they'd not work on Sam. He'd have to do something else. 'Just lay back and relax. Try to sleep.'

'No! I've had glimpses of the other place. I don't want to be there!' Again Sam tried to get up and off the bed. 'I want to be with Floyd!'

Ah – that surge of jealousy again. It wasn't good. It wasn't a nice feeling. It was a sick and low feeling which made Spencer's stomach ach and his heart thump faster in his chest. 'You will be with him if you sleep. Nothing here is real. Sleep and all this damage you've taken will be gone. Your eye will be better. That's got to be good hasn't it?'

Sam had to agree that was good. He put a hand over the patch and nodded. 'But I can't sleep and those pills wont work.'

Now Spencer nodded. 'I know, so I'm going to help you. I will sleep and curl up and hold you tight. You will be safe. I'll be right here with you. OK? Nothing to worry about. Just let the sleep come to you. We will be together again. Everything will be as it should be.' He hated the lies. Lies which came to him so easily when Floyd was involved. 'It's nice here. Not too hot. Easy to sleep.' Spencer climbed up onto the bed next to Sam. 'Roll over and close your eyes. I'm here. Floyd is sleeping on the floor there. Everything is good. We are together.' He waited for Sam to roll over onto his side and then Spencer gently ran his fingers through Sam's hair. 'Just relax. You wont sleep if you're not relaxed.' He slipped the hand gun out of his pocket as he spoke. 'I'll look after you. I'll protect you.' More stroking of the hair and a finger running over the line of Sam's ear. He pulled his hair back off his face and looked at the place he was going to clout Sam. 'See you again soon.' He gave Sam a kiss goodbye. For all Spencer knew this was the end. Sam would die, he would take the sleeping pills and die. It would be over. What happens when you die in hell? Do you fall further? Do you end up on the pit or hanging from that weird bridge of bars, like a fly caught in a spider's web? He had no idea. He sighed as he heard Sam's breathing relax. Not so much to fool Spencer that he was sleeping.

There was a loud crunch as the metal of the gun hit the side of Sam's head. A small spray of blood and a surprised twitch from Sam… finally he was relaxed. Sam was sleeping. He hoped. Spencer did as he promised though, but not up here on the bed. He climbed back down again and lifted Sam off, placing him on the floor with Floyd. He put Sam in front of Floyd and draped Floyd's arms around Sam, and then Spencer lay on the floor in front of Sam.

He took twelve sleeping pills. An hour later he was still awake. He took five more, crunching down on them and this time using water to wash it down and not coke. Slowly the world darkened. Spencer had hoped for at least a small moment, maybe just a few minutes of peace, but it didt happen.

o-o-o

Floyd woke up being kicked in the face.

Sam woke up dangling by one arm from the wall. He could feel something wet sliding down his face and as he looked up to try to see what was going on, firstly it was obvious that the wet stuff was the contents of his eye, secondly that his mouth seemed to be full of blood. He coughed and sprayed the man standing in front of him.

Spencer woke up too. He was still hanging by his wrists. Like Sam he lifted his head to look around. Two men stood there. Two men holding what looked to be batons.

'You need to go back to sleep.' One of them told him and moved forwards with his weapon raised.

Spencer took a long shuddering breath. 'Do what you must do, but I know now what's going on. My dream over there has ended. The game is over. Either end it and remove me as a playing piece or bring someone here who will talk to me.'

'You can talk to us.' The man still standing back a bit said with amusement in his voice.

'I can, but I don't think you will understand me.' He watched the baton rise again. 'Hit me… send me to sleep, but as I said, I can't go back because that game has ended.'

It didn't stop the baton from coming down on the side of Spencer's head. He felt his teeth rattle in his head… blood filled his mouth and a nasty crunch joined in the second smack from the weapon as it caught him across the nose. Spencer cried out in anger more than pain, but the sleeping tablets, even though only from a dream were doing their work here. He was still awake. They hit him in the stomach, pushing all the air out of his lungs as he howled in pain. This was going to be painful… Very painful. The smack under the jaw caused very briefly a glimpse of somewhere dark and cold, but it was the pain of a broken jaw which was keeping him awake now. He hoped that Floyd and Sam were having a better time of it. He couldn't hear them screaming. That had to be good didn't it? He wanted to scream at them to stop! But he didn't. He wasn't going to let them win this. He'd cheated maybe, had used a fixed dice when he made that last roll, but that was their problem. They wouldn't kill him. He knew that. But they could cause him a lot of pain.

a/n: Sorry, been very distracted by the riots over here in London. Another short chapter. :(