Chapter Fourteen.

BANE: That which causes death or destroys life.

Floyd knew that Spencer would have been just as happy to see him dead or alive. He could see, sense, feel and smell it on his Babes. This need for him to be alive now was just because of the surprise of seeing him in the loving arms of something else. Didn't matter that it was not even a human, not by anyone's standards, it was a petty need to own him. And Floyd didn't belong to anyone. However, that matter aside, he allowed Spencer to paw him and squish their lips together and do a bit of face sucking. It was not the best and most wonderful experience, but knowing Spencer's false heart made Floyd feel as though it was himself taking the advantage here and not Spencer. Let him grovel and beg forgiveness. Let him kneel and whimper and plead. It was the least Floyd could do for him.

That coldness was forming again. That feeling that he'd emptied Spencer of all he had and there really was nothing left but lies and false hope. Whatever there had been between them was gone. All there was now was the joint need to find Sam and get out again alive – yet Floyd wondered just how much each of them was going to help the other to survive this. Again the dynamics had shifted and Floyd was very sure that that small amount of trust he'd had... that surety that Spencer wouldn't try something if given the chance, that was gone. Yet give Spencer the illusion that all was well. Don't let him see the falsehood and boiling disappointment Floyd was feeling.

'It was going to drain you of blood.' Spencer moaned with quite a good show of remorse. It was fakery. It stank of shit and piss and week old vomit which had been laying in the sun.

Floyd sat, wiped his face with his forearm and sniffed. His face hurt, but it was nothing he could not recover from. His back felt as though someone had been stamping on his spine, but again, a quick smoke would cure his ills for now. He gave Spencer a sideways glance and lit up with his silver lighter which Rossi had been so kind to ensure followed him.

'I didn't mean to kick you so hard.' Oh such lies! It was a stink enough to make Floyd want to puke himself.

'Just shut up about it. It's done. Over. No damage done that won't heal in time.' He blew some smoke rings as Spencer put an arm over his shoulders. Cold... so fucking cold! It was like being hugged by a block of ice. 'I'll smoke this and we'll move on.'

'You're not angry?' Spencer was confused. And so should he be! Be fucking confused bitch!

'Of course... obviously I'm angry. You want me to slap you around? You want what you gave me? I mean, that would be what I'd expect. Throw yourself down the next flight. See if you come out of it with just a few aches and a dripping head. What about that? Huh? No, Babes, I'd not expect that of you. But raise a hand, or foot, to me again and my wrath will be felt with such magnitude that you'll puke just seeing my face. Understand? Oh and love and stuff, blah, blah, blah... all that loving shit you like... My god you look fabulous today! Have you done something different with your hair, washed it maybe? No... something else, I think. Babes, my loving sweetling and darling... the love and light of my life, and death... I forgive you all and everything. Now compliment me back and forgive me in return and we'll be even.'

Spencer's arm left Floyd and hands, twisting fingers, cracking knuckles in Spencer's lap. 'I need to pee.' He sighed. His bladder was screaming at him.

'Then go do it. There's plenty of room and I don't think some dribble of Spencer scented piss is going to make too much difference to the pong. I'll not look if you're shy... or I'll tip my head back and open my mouth in readiness if you're feeling a bit of a libertine. I'll have you piss on me any day of the week, my darling sweetness... my perfect delight.'

Spencer walked to the other side of the room, snuffing out some candles. 'You're revolting.' He muttered.

'You won't be the first to say that, you wouldn't have been the first to piss on me either. Though I know most say they'd not do that if I was on fire... which I recently have been... just a thought, but the experience is not something to just nudge out of the way. You take other fluids into your mouth quite readily, as do I... why not that?'

Spencer didn't answer. He'd done some odd things with Floyd in the past but that had never entered conversation before. Floyd had never even hinted at it. Was he being vile just to make Spencer react? Well he wasn't going to. Though he was thinking that Sam was more likely to want to do something like that. He stayed where he was for a moment. A puddle forming around his right foot. He moved away and back towards Floyd who was now on his knees, hands on the floor in front of him spitting some blackish coloured lumps onto the floor between his hands. It was nothing. It didn't bother Floyd. He would rather spit the shit out than sneeze it... now that was an eye-watering thing to do. He wiped at his nose and mouth with an open hand and in turn wiped his hand on his thigh.

'We should leave before Harry gets back.' Floyd got to his feet. Had Spencer been anything close to being a gent he'd had offered a hand, yet he failed. He failed in so many ways it would have made a lesser man's head spin.

Spencer was looking in the direction the creature had gone. 'He's called Harry?'

'Everything has a name, my darling one. Everything... the smallest dot of a creature has a name it is called by... loved by... Even you. Even you who I think, for now at least is going to have to go first down the steps of doom and pain because I'm a little bit concerned that you're going to kick just that little bit harder next time. And for your own pleasure and relief... I need you alive, even if you don't me. Bear that in mind, Spence.'

Spencer gave Floyd his angry expression. All it managed to do was to make Floyd almost smile.

'Floyd, I need you alive too. I thought we were in this together. We both need to get out alive. Stop with the empty threats and stop with the vileness.'

'And if I don't, little one? What then? What if I just run off and leave you here to Harry? Will you come chasing after me like some poor hungry puppy? Yes... yes you will, because you might pretend to dislike what I am and what I do and how I think, dress, speak... smell and everything else you can pin to my name, you don't, you don't dislike it... you need it. So stop fucking whining at me and start walking. We've two more flights to walk down and I'm not resting again until we get there.'

'And what is there?'

'Shut up and find out.'

'What will be waiting for us?' Spencer didn't look like he was getting ready to walk down the steps. It didn't look as though he was taking any interest or notice of anything Floyd was saying to him. His expression had gone from that cute anger to irritating disinterest.

Floyd didn't know what was waiting. It was not always the same things in the same place. It could be the pits, or the stepping stones... it could be the metal bridge of wires or the nursery or maybe even the Bloomery, which would have a small slave market attached and would cause Spencer some sort of tantrum and upset. It would be easier if it was just some never ending brothel, but somehow Floyd thought his luck was not going to go that far. There were also the head posts, the hang-mans' walk and all sorts of wondrous and interesting places to beg, plead, bargain and run for their lives through... these steps... HA! Nothing... a rest... a way down to the real horrors and where amongst them is Sam? He didn't know. It was going to cost finding out too.

'Come cully... don't sulk.' Floyd gestured to the steps. 'Had you not kicked, you'd have me as a barrier, but you did and so no longer do you have me as protection... at least not whilst on the steps. MOVE! Move your arse... my darling.'

They walked to the next landing without incident. Without talking. This was not going to work out well. Floyd could feel that. It was a damned curse to have Spencer with him here. He needed his energy to locate and bargain for Sam... if he'd not been seen to and sold on to some place out of his reach, which was always a chance. There was no time to worry about Spencer now. No room in his aching brain to fit that bit of worry in too.

As they took a short rest on the next landing, Spencer rubbing at his legs again and making his knee click – Floyd hoped it hurt. A lot. As they sat there Floyd actually wished he could deal with Spencer now. Yet he was no more willing to do it himself now as he had been when Levin had done it for him. Was that cowardly? Maybe.

'When we reach the bottom, don't step off the landing unless we're in physical contact or we might well end up in different places. A hand on a shoulder or cupping an elbow would be fine.'

Spencer nodded and smiled. 'I'll be glad to get off the steps.'

Floyd stared for a moment at Spencer's smile. Had he ever seen anything quite like that before on a human? He wasn't sure he had. How can someone possibly smile and show their back teeth? It surely was a deformity. Not that having a wide mouth or jaw was a problem and it made for all sorts of fancy stuff Spencer could do, but to smile like that? Floyd shuddered and looked away.

'Your teeth are dirty.'

Hopefully that would keep the bitch's mouth shut for a while.

'And yours are particularly clean?'

Oh he answered back. 'Mine are never clean, sweetness... you are constantly scrubbing at your fangs... nasty taste in your mouth, huh? It's not a problem, Babes, just don't bare them at me like you're some primate. It looks threatening and you don't want me to smash them out of your pretty mouth, now do you?'

Spencer sighed and Floyd gave a quick glance. He'd shut his mouth. Hopefully it would stay that way until the cull was prepared to open it for some sort of fun. Floyd smoked some more, blew more smoke rings and silently sort of almost worried about Sam... almost sort of got concerned about Spencer too. Got very worried about his own precious skin. This was his last chance. His last way out of the mess and he couldn't afford to make a mess. Too much had gone wrong. He had a pile of crap he had to make up for...

Not killing Spencer by his own hand – now he could argue that it would never have happened had he not paid Levin to do it for him. Levin was a twisted and sick little bunny. And apparently he was somewhere down here too, though Floyd had not hurt him. He'd left him very much alive so he was unsure what happened there.

Not having his own head removed – Oh he'd asked. He'd been on his virtual knees begging for that to be done, but that had been very much out of his control. He hoped Rossi and Hotchner enjoyed watching him burn alive. Bastards. He'd trusted Rossi and he'd let him down. Though he had to admit that the man had done everything else he'd asked. However, there was a chance of some sort of bargaining and maybe a move forwards. It would cost. He'd lose something in return... and as he thought this he glanced over to Spencer... so maybe he was here for a reason. Maybe Spencer was what he was going to use to pay for his own life... and Sam's... maybe Levin's? No... Spencer was not even worth Floyd's life... he'd never stretch it out to the others too. Or was it really time to cross the river and be home.

Was it even home any more?

Floyd wondered where Spencer considered home. Was it that apartment? His old place in Vegas? Some hole somewhere... a den, somewhere secret? Could Spencer keep that sort of secret from him? Floyd thought not.

'So...' Floyd started to ask. Changed his mind. Spencer was finger brushing his hair. He actually looked perfectly delightful.

'I should never have gone with you that day.' Spencer suddenly said.

Floyd had no idea what day he was going on about and asked... which particular day was he whining about now?

'The first time I went with you on the back of the bike. Scared me half to death.'

'I kept you safe.' Floyd told him. 'Kept you from those bastards.'

'You did. But I was warned, as all kids are, to keep away from strangers. Don't accept lifts... and I did. More than once I did. You were not the first to offer me a lift home, you know? I should have just walked away.'

This was news to Floyd. Not the first? 'You accepted lifts? Who from?'

Spencer shrugged. 'It was a long time ago, Floyd. It no longer matters. As soon as you showed up there was no need to turn to strangers.'

'You... you went with pedos? You gave out favours when you were a kid?'

Spencer's eyes widened. 'Oh god! No! No... I didn't mean that! They were good people, Floyd. Not like... not... they...'

'Not like me, you mean?'

'No... stop putting words into my mouth! No... they were honest people.'

'Not even a grope?' Floyd's eyes had also gone wide. 'Never? Not once? No one ever wanted anything from you?'

Spencer looked down at his hands once again twisting in his lap. 'I was a child.'

'So you did.'

'I told you no.'

'And you lied. Tell me what happened.' Floyd moved closer to Spencer. Tears! Jolly good. It's upsetting the poor bitch.

Spencer rubbed at his face with his hands. 'I told you. Nothing happened. I just got a lift home.'

'Offered anything? Asked anything? Given anything?'

Silence. No answer.

'So you got lifts, got a few bucks for a fondle? They touched you? Took photos?'

Still a deathly silence.

'You never mentioned this before.' Floyd placed a comforting hand on Spencer's knee. At least it was meant to appear as a comfort, it was more of a tell me more, tell me all... I need to know, sort of hand.

'There's nothing to tell.' Spencer placed his own hand over Floyd's. 'Do you really think that if I thought there was danger in it, that I'd have accepted?'

'There is always danger accepting lifts from strangers. You knew that and did it anyway and never any trouble? Not once. I'm not including me in this because by the time your alarm bells started ringing I was no longer a stranger, so tell me, never? Not once did you realise that something odd was going on?'

Spencer's hand squeezed Floyd's. He licked his lips and chewed on the edge of his thumbnail. Thinking. Floyd could see Spencer was deciding what he should say. How much he should admit and how much to leave out. 'A man... Italian – I'd seen him around before. Other kids got lifts from him. I thought he was one of the dads. Might well have been. He was often parked outside the school. A red pick-up. Battered. Old rubbish in the back... I can't remember what it was now, but I know I thought he was going to the dump to get rid of it all. He called out. Knew my name. Offered me a lift home. I accepted. And he drove by my turning and further on, but I didn't say anything because he seemed nice and was probably just going a different way. You could circle round you see? Come in from the other way... but again he drove by the turning and eventually pulled in at a lay-by... He closed the windows. Un-buckled and moved towards me, put a hand on my leg. Told me I was a good boy... a nice boy... I opened the door and ran. That was the only time anything untoward happened. I remember running home, and throwing down my books and going to my room... wondering if he knew father, if he'd tell him. If I'd get a beating for running. I never saw him again. I never told anyone until now. It should have been a warning. I should never have taken that lift with you.'

'I didn't want to grope you, Spencer. I wanted to protect you. That's all. Just keep you safe. Make you happy... it must have been... years – months... it was a long old while before I even thought that this was going to be a long haul job... that I'd have to wait for you and you for me, of course.'

'A long haul job. Is that all I've ever been to you?'

Oh for god's sake... crying again.

'That's about it, Babes... that's not a bad thing though is it?' Surely that meant he intended to stay. If Spencer found that terminology offensive or worth a few tears or even a snarky look then it was worth saying it. In truth he'd not minded one second of his time spent waiting.

There was a lot to do. Not with Spencer, but roaming around just doing stuff whilst the lad grew into something worth putting his hands over. There was waiting... sitting alone watching the clock and doing a jig-saw, and there was waiting... screwing around, eating illegal things, getting high and drinking too much. Floyd tended to go for the latter, whereas Spencer was certainly a jig-saw type. At least most of the time.

'Will you ever tell me the truth about Constance?' Spencer asked.

It was amazing how long the cur would hold on to something so petty. Floyd had all but forgotten about funny Constance and the games played there. It no longer mattered. It was in a different life and a different time.

'She was wired. On some joints, not all of them. Through the bottom of the cabinet. They could be pulled on from understairs. Like an upside down puppet. That's all it was, Spencer. A toy is all. Nothing.'

'Then where did she go? Who moved her?'

'I put her in the walk in freezer. I knew that was a place you'd never go. Thought it funny to have you think she was walking about the house. It was a set up, my sweet. Nothing was real there. I played a little game on you. Levin helped me out. I recruited him. That's why he was there to pay for the job he did for me. I screwed him a few times. He's got, or had, a lovely arse. You need to shop around. See some sights. You might actually like it.'

'A joke. It was a joke?' Spencer shook his head. 'What about the books?'

'What about them. Levin again... small trip wires and stuff, passages behind the walls... spy holes and all sorts of fancy crap. What larks.'

'What larks, indeed.' Spencer's eyes had narrowed now. He was looking annoyed. Tell him that the place was haunted and he'd cry... tell him that it was a joke and he'd look all pissed off. Can't win with some people!

'Time to get going. Remember, don't walk off the bottom step unless we are in physical contact. Not even if you think you can see where we'll end up. We might not be seeing the same thing. OK?'

'Understood. You go first though. With a promise I'll not kick you.'

'Understood.'

Again the trip downwards was mostly in silence. There were a couple of places where a lantern had guttered and gone out, so Floyd nabbed one still burning and carried it. Now – if Spencer kicked him down the stairs now he'd break his face and catch fire! Floyd was not in the mood to be aflame again, just yet. He was still feeling the heat from the previous time. Walking through flames had never been too much of a problem. A bit melty occasionally, a bit singed, but never had he been incinerated before! Never again! Next time he'd demand a proper burial. He'd dig himself out of that easier than this damned mess.

Overhead now were fans sitting and swirling on the ceiling. The noise of the mechanisms set to swirl those ancient things thrummed in Floyd's head like wings battering overhead. He stopped to check Spencer was not too alarmed by it, held up the lantern and peered at his beloved's face. Such a pretty sight in the shadows, glaring down at him like an old oil painting of some debauched letch. What a sweet sight to see.

'How am I looking?' Floyd asked. He knew that his general appearance had taken a knocking and Spencer had seen behind the shroud he wore to disguise what he was, but how much had Spencer really seen and how much had he, Floyd, managed to pull back again.

'Well your tongue isn't black. I suppose that's a start. You're looking almost like you should.'

How he should? How he should in Spencer's mind, not how he should in his own. Floyd nodded. Accepted that for now and pointed upwards.

'Demonic aircon.' He twitched a tiny smile. 'Not that it makes too much difference to the air quality, but it's a sign that we are very close.'

Spencer looked to where Floyd was pointing. He'd already noted them. Had already been told about them when the sounds first filtered up the stairwell.

'Floyd' Spencer's eyes flickered back to the monster a few steps below him. 'Don't run off and leave me here.'

There was no reply to that. If but he could! He'd have run... run a million times over, but this bloody curse was so tight that it hobbled him and pulled him back. Threw him down a hundred times over and over again. Like a fairground bull being baited by some cruel master. Floyd's brow creased into a light frown.

'I can inject all sorts of shit into me. I can smoke it, eat it... drink it and debauch with it, yet there I am knowing each time that I can filter it out, take a load, feel small amounts of joy from it. You're the only thing that's ever been, only one I can't do that with. A terrible drug, Spencer. Horrific. It's ruined me. Now with that in mind, I'll not leave you, because I can't leave you. I need you as you need food, water and air. Happy now?'

He turned and moved off, noting mist forming around his feet. The steps harder to make out... would be his luck to fall now that he was nearly there – nearly where through? Somewhere to sit, relax and have some joy? No... damned if that would happen, and maybe it would as he was damned... He held the lantern out in front, but moved so he was standing sideways.

'It's time. Hold my hand. We're going.'