Author's Notes: See chapter one for disclaimer.

I think I should just change the update schedule for this fic from "every two weeks" to "whenever", especially now that the Christmas season is upon us. I'm sorry, you guys. I'm doing my best. Thanks for being so patient with me.

Many thanks to sunglassesANDunicorns, DoubtingSalmon, thesupernugget, 123-321, KitKatBarStory, khaosfire, CoriOreo, phx88gir, Invader Sideos, Tagi-sama, GuesssWho, xcorezombie, The Only Person Who Luvz Akito, Mafis, kalilamae, desdemona kakalose, kr0n, Osuwarii, JuleWooster, and Miscellaneous Penguin for reading and reviewing chapter thirteen! I'm so glad you all liked it as much as you did. Hugs 'n' kisses, all.

My Immortal
By Annie-chan
Chapter Fourteen: Tumble Dry Low

Devi ran her hairbrush slowly through her hair, letting the purple-pink strands slide soundlessly through the bristles. The feathery ends of her hair tickled her neck a little bit as they swayed gentle from side to side. Every once in a while, a stray droplet of water would fall to her shoulder or back, a tiny prick of cold in the otherwise warm bathroom.

The mirror in front of her was blurry. She had wiped the condensation from the shower steam off of it so she could see herself, but a thin sheen of moisture still clung to the smooth surface, distorting her reflection.

Setting the brush down on the edge of the sink, she looked down at the faucet. Rather, she looked through it, her gaze not focusing on anything in particular.

After her initial hysteria in the abandoned warehouse earlier that night, a numb feeling had descended upon her. She refused to let her mind replay the images of Derek's murder, forcing them down with sheer force of will. Though numb, she could still sense a shuddering vulnerability just beneath the surface, threatening to break through at any moment. Breathing deeply and steadily, she held onto her calmness as firmly as she could. It was too soon after the horrible ordeal. She knew she would have to face and come to terms with it eventually, but not now. She would rather forget it for the time being.

She looked toward the closed door, knowing that on the other side lay a short hallway, and then her living room. Her rational side was begging her not to go out there. Johnny was out there, and she was terrified of him. She was aware now of just how much brutality he possessed, and that only intensified her fear of the horrendously fucked-up young man.

Why did you invite him in? she asked herself silently, wringing her hands nervously. Why did you bring that monster into your home? He could attack you at any second. He could kill you at any second. Why did you let that freak into your one and only sanctuary?!

She chewed at her bottom lip, a fleeting image of him bursting through the door and hacking her to pieces flashing across her mind's eye.

It's because he saved you, she answered herself after a few moments of silence. He saved your dignity, and maybe even your life. He prevented that asshole from having his way with you, and he did it because he cares for you. The least you can do is show a little kindness in return.

Absently, she touched her chest over her heart, feeling the steady throbbing faintly through her ribs. Her hand slowly clenched into a loose fist, squeezing the soft fabric of her robe in her fingers.

He cares for me, she thought again. Does he? Or am I just assuming that he does because he saved me? If he cares for me, why did he try to—

She shook her head jerkily, shoving the thought away. She really didn't want to think about The Date right now.

Finally, after staring at her reflection for a few moments more, arguing with herself over whether it had been wise or not to bring Johnny into her apartment, she let out a long sigh and turned toward the closed and locked door.

Padding silently down the short hallway, her bare feet making no noise on the carpet as she walked, she hesitated for a moment before turning the corner. When she at last compelled herself to take those last couple of steps, bringing the living room into her line of sight, she stopped again almost immediately, coming to a halt just inside the doorway.

There was Johnny, sitting quietly on the couch. He had propped his feet up on the edge of the cushion, his arms wound loosely around his bent knees. His head was down, though she could still see his face. Slightly damp hair hung limply over his eyes, making his expression hard to read from Devi's angle. His boots stood on the carpet to his right, all of the blood cleaned off of the stiff, black leather. Johnny himself wore a plain grey pair of Devi's pajamas. As his clothes had been literally soaked through with blood and gore, Devi had insisted that he shower before her. He had protested, saying that it was her home, not his, but she had pushed, and he had finally relented. Their clothes were now in the wash, and Johnny had borrowed a pair of pajamas from Devi so he could stay decent. As the two of them were of the same height and more or less the same build, that hadn't been any problem. Now, he was just waiting to get his clothes back.

He raised his head after a moment, as if sensing her eyes on him. Briefly, their eyes met from across the room, and then Johnny averted his gaze again. Devi thought she saw nervousness glimmering in his dark eyes, the same nervousness she herself was feeling. That reassured her somewhat, and she felt the butterflies in her stomach diminish a little bit.

She slowly crossed the room, willing her feet to take her toward him. He didn't stir as she approached, but she knew he was aware of her movement.

Finally standing over him, she looked down upon his narrow frame. A jolt of pity shot through her as she realized just how painfully thin he was. Even through the pajama fabric, she could see his bones sharply protruding through his skin. If she wanted to, she'd be able to count his ribs and vertebrae even without him removing his shirt.

She had never seen anybody so emaciated, save for the old films she had viewed in history class of the prisoners starving to death in the Nazi concentration camps. It was as if sheer force of will was all that was keeping Johnny going. No one could possibly be that thin and still be able to move like he could.

She sat down next to him, careful to keep a noticeable distance between them. She threaded her fingers together and rested her hands in her lap, staring blankly at the coffee table in front of her.

Neither of them spoke for a long while.

"Hi," she finally said, her voice sounding weak and scratchy even in her own ears. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him lift his hand and run his fingers through his spiky black hair. He didn't immediately answer, but then responded in kind, his voice just as quiet as hers had been.

"Hi."

Finally looking over at him, her eyes rested on the jagged cut just below his hairline. The area around it was badly swollen, and the cut itself was still an angry red. It was the place where his head had connected with the cement wall in the narrow alleyway.

"How did you recover so quickly?" she heard herself asking.

"Hm?"

"How did you recover so quickly from that concussion?" she asked again. She had this strange urge to reach out and touch the injured area, but she refrained.

"Oh," Johnny replied, gingerly touching his forehead just to the side of the goose-egg. "It's not as bad as it probably looks. It hurt like fuck and knocked me out, but it's nothing debilitating. I think I was unconscious for just a few minutes."

"Nny, you can't self-assess head injuries," Devi replied, looking directly at him now. "You have to go to a hospital and have them X-ray your skull. There are so many things that could be going wrong in there that you'd have no idea about."

"No," Johnny said simply. "I hate doctors."

"Nny, I'm serious. Some severe head injuries don't actually hit you until a while after they're inflicted. Your brain could suddenly shut down at any moment." It felt odd giving medical advice to someone she thought she wanted to see dead. She felt like she had to say it, however. He had taken that injury in her defense, so she felt partly responsible for it.

"I'm serious, too. I have enough people scrutinizing my outside every god-damn day. The last thing I need is someone poking around my insides, too." His voice sounded bitter and jaded. A lifetime of being picked on for his looks had taken its toll on him. It was likely that the thought of someone looking inside him, even for medical purposes, scared him.

Devi sighed. "Nny…"

"I had a worse concussion after you smashed my head through the mirror that one night," Johnny interrupted. "If I could get through that okay, I can get through this."

Devi rubbed her temples with her forefingers. She knew that a person's reaction to one concussion was almost never an accurate indicator of how they'd react to another, and she also knew that the outward appearance of head injuries could be vastly different than the actual extent of the damage. She wasn't in any mood for an argument, however, especially not with someone like Johnny C.

After several more minutes of silence, she asked another question that had been bugging her.

"How did you know where to find us? How did you know he'd take me to GLS Incorporated?"

"What, you didn't notice?" he answered, finally looking over at her. "He was in his work clothes. The name of the place was right there on his shirt. I'd be an idiot not to look there first." He faced forward again and put his feet on the floor. "I heard screaming coming from the abandoned warehouse as I got close. I figured that that's where you guys were." He shrugged. "I was right."

Devi nodded slowly. Truth be told, she hadn't noticed that Derek had been wearing his work uniform. She had had more pressing things on her mind at the moment, such as getting away from her delusional ex-boyfriend. What he had chosen to wear while assaulting her hadn't even entered her thoughts.

"Idiot," Johnny snorted, sounding as if he were speaking to himself. "He was probably coming right from work when he caught you. Real smart idea, wearing work-issued clothing while attacking someone. It's like wearing a big sign around your neck saying This is where you can find me!"

Devi nodded absently. It was probably the stupidest mistake Derek had ever made. It had led Johnny right to them, resulting in Derek's slow, agonizing death.

"Lucky thing he was wearing his guard uniform, though," she found herself saying. "It allowed you to get there before anything bad could happen."

"Point," Johnny concurred with a slight tilt of his head. "Lucky for you; not so lucky for him." Perhaps Devi was imagining it, but it seemed that a hint of his old easy-going tone had crept back into his voice. Before she knew it, she found herself starting to smile.

Oh my God, she thought, her eyes going wide as her shock wiped the smile from her face. It felt like we were back in the bookstore for a moment. Jesus, Devi, don't let your guard down so fast!

"So…what have you been up to these past few months?" Johnny asked after another stretch of silence. There was a note of hesitation in his voice, as if he wasn't sure if she would welcome this topic of conversation or not. He glanced quickly over at her, but she didn't notice.

Devi took a deep breath through her nose. She had this strange feeling that she was standing up in front of class back in grade school, feeling all sixty eyes trained upon her as she was about to give an oral presentation. Swallowing, she shook off the feeling as best she could before she answered.

"Well, I'm not working at the bookstore anymore," she began, not looking at him. "I quit several months ago to work for Nerve Publishing as an illustrator. That…didn't go too well. I quit that job after a while, too. But then I got hired for the same thing by Doppelganger Press. They're so much easier to work for than Nerve, and I'm really liking my job there." She stopped for a moment, a flush of nervousness reddening her cheeks. "The first book I illustrated for them is due out next month. I…I really hope my work is received well."

"A graphic artist, hm?" he said quietly, again as if speaking to himself. "Doing what you love for a living."

She nodded. "Yeah."

She caught movement at the very edge of her vision, and she looked over. A small jolt of surprise buzzed through her when she found him looking at her, a thin, almost sad smile on his face.

"I know how much you wanted to be a professional artist, Devi," he said softly. "I'm really glad to hear that your dream is coming true. It…it means a lot to me to see you happy. You are happy, right?"

"Work-wise, yes," she replied. Her voice then dropped significantly in volume. "I still have plenty of shit on my plate, though."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Johnny said, just barely above a whisper.

"Don't be," she shrugged. "It's nothing for you to bother yourself over." She shifted in her seat, bringing her legs up and tucking them under herself. "Now, I've told you what's been going on in my life. What about yours?" A voice in the back of her head told her that she really didn't want to know, but she felt compelled to ask anyway.

Johnny propped his feet up on the couch again, wound his arms around his legs, and leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. "I don't suppose that you'll believe this, but…" He paused.

"I can believe some pretty fucked-up shit," Devi assured him, her tone almost wry. "With all I've been through, there's not much that would surprise me anymore."

Johnny chuckled briefly, closing his eyes. "All right, then. I died, when to Heaven, got kicked out of Heaven, went to Hell, got kicked out of Hell, and then finally came back home."

Devi stared dumbly at him. There wasn't much he could say that would surprise her, but that was definitely one thing that could.

"You're serious," she managed to say after a moment. It was more a statement than a question. For some reason, she didn't think that this was just his deranged imagination. He just sounded too sure of himself.

"Well," he shrugged, "I suppose it could have been just a really fucked-up dream, but it sure as shit felt real. There was no place for me in Hell, the Devil said, so he sent me back home. I woke up in a pool of my own blood with most of my hair gone, and the bullet hole in my head was healed. I don't think I'd be alive right now if it had just been a dream."

"What do you mean, 'there's no place for you in Hell'? I thought Hell was supposed to be boundless, with endless capacity for new souls."

"It wasn't my time to die, I guess you could say. I expired prematurely because I was waste-lock, so I was sent back to live out the remainder of my life."

"You were a waste-lock?" Devi asked, totally confused by now. "What the hell is that?" She was looking at him as if she expected him to sprout another head at any moment.

Johnny chuckled again, but this time there was a hint of bitterness in the sound. "Oh, Lord, what a question…"

He told her everything he knew about waste-locks, everything he could remember of what the Devil had told him about the scattered individuals who, totally unaware, kept the balance between good and evil in the world. Almost in a whisper, he divulged the details behind their existence, from the role they played in the cosmic balance of things to the death and rebirth that awaited them at the end of their crucial task. With a slight tremor in his voice, he explained that he had been a poorly thought-out choice as a waste-lock, as he had apparently been quite unbalanced to begin with. However, he had unwittingly served his purpose, and had met the same fate as everyone else unfortunate enough to become such indispensable cogs in the universe's machine.

"It's why I was never successful at suicide until the very end," he finished. "My job wasn't over, so something was deliberately making me fail each and every time. It's also why I was never caught, even after slicing people up in the middle of the street in broad daylight. That same something was steering everyone who sought me out away from me, so I always got away with what I did." He looked at his boney hands. "Figures that such a 'talent' would come to someone with such…interesting…hobbies as myself."

Devi made no response at first. She just stared at her hands in her lap, feeling a dull chill spread through her insides. Something sinister was fluttering at the edge of her thoughts, something she was terrified to let herself acknowledge. This new information had sent a lance of fear and horror through her chest, and she refused to let herself fully realize what it meant.

Oh my God, she gasped internally. Oh my God! This is…!

"Devi," he said suddenly, cutting through her thoughts. "I don't expect you to believe this. I just have to say it, and I mean it from the bottom of my heart. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I did to you, for all the pain I caused you. I never…I never wanted to hurt you. If I could take it all back, I would do so in a heartbeat. It's been eating at me ever since that night, and I want you to know how much I regret what I did. I don't expect forgiveness. I just…I'm sorry."

She clenched her hands into fists, trying to still their shaking. The raw emotion in his voice, the overwhelming feeling that he was laying open his heart to her was staggering. Never before had she been spoken to with such quiet intensity, and it shook her to the core.

"Why did you do it?" she managed to ask, feeling bitterness creeping into her words. "If you care so much for me, why did you…?!" She bit her lip, unable to finish. She wanted to scream at him, to shake him until his teeth rattled, demand an explanation for why he had so gloriously fucked up what had been the best and most promising thing that had ever happened to her. All her resentment for him came bubbling up in that instant, and she didn't realize that she was biting her lip hard enough to bleed.

Johnny visibly flinched at the venom in her voice. "The Doughboys…they—"

"Doughboys," Devi repeated, her face suddenly blank. "You mentioned a Psycho-Doughboy to me before." For some inexplicable reason, that one word completely changed her demeanor. As if someone had flipped a switch, all the anger had drained from her, replaced by an unexplainable urgency to find out just what the hell these "Doughboys" were.

"Him and Mr. Eff," Johnny nodded, looking confused. "There were two of them. They…talked to me." He had mentioned D-boy to Devi before, yet only once, and it had been in passing. He was surprised she even remembered it.

"You mean…voices in your head," Devi clarified, more for herself than for Johnny.

"Just at first," Johnny said, a note of dread appearing in his already strained voice. "It…it seems that the emotional waste that I was keeping locked up had been fermenting in its prison for so long, that it grew a consciousness of its own. It wanted out of there. It seized hold of my inner voices and…took them away from me. They were no longer mine. They became extensions of the thing living in my wall. They kept talking and talking and talking…telling me to do things, to kill myself, to kill others. They were constantly arguing with each other, and with me, pulling me in two different directions. Eventually, they could even move on their own."

Devi stared at him, wide-eyed. A faint, scratchy voice crept unbidden into her thoughts, whispering words that still sent a chill down her spine, even this many months after she had last heard the hated voice.

Your friend thought he could fight, too, and he ended up introducing us to you.

And then, even louder:

When you're with us, you don't have to worry about almost anything. We take care of you, protect you. You can walk through this world like you're a god, without fear, without damage. You can do whatever you want. Anything. Even kill. Now, doesn't that sound nice?

"They were using you to become real," she found herself saying, "draining you of your creative force, your personality, your memories…everything. You were just a means to an end, an energy source for them to draw upon at their leisure." Just like Sickness…those Doughboys were just like Sickness!

Johnny gaped at her, a look of utter shock on his face. "How do you…how do you know that…?" he managed to choke out, no small amount of horror in his voice.

"Because I went through the same thing," she said, pity in her green eyes. "An offshoot of the thing that had a hold of you latched onto me…through my contact with you. I fought it, and managed to defeat it, but God it was hard. It came within a hair's breadth of becoming truly real before I could finally put it down. It literally made me sick when I realized that you had experienced the same thing, only a hundred times stronger. I just couldn't imagine going through what you did. I still can't."

"You…you know," Johnny muttered numbly, looking away.

Devi nodded. "I know."

"And it's…because of me?"

"Please, don't blame yourself, Nny." It felt odd saying those words. She herself had resented him deeply for exposing her to such a menace, however unwittingly. It just seemed like the right thing to say, though.

Johnny's thin hands closed into fists in his lap. His already large eyes were as wide as they could possibly get, and Devi could faintly hear his teeth chattering behind his closed lips. She saw as well as heard him swallow, and flinched slightly at how painful it sounded. He looked so confused, so scared…

DING

Both of them jumped at the sudden, loud noise. It took Devi a few seconds before she realized what it was.

"Oh, there's the dryer," she said quickly, seizing the opportunity to change the subject. She fairly jumped up from the couch. "I'll go get your clothes so you can get dressed." With that, she disappeared into the kitchen.

Calm down, Devi, she admonished herself as she pulled the still warm clothes from the dryer. Remember that the man sitting next to you is a deranged, bipolar lunatic. Don't get him too upset, or he might go berserk.

Gathering his clothes together and tossing her own on top of the dryer, she took a deep breath and reentered the living room. Johnny seemed to have calmed down somewhat, though he still looked deeply disturbed. He was hugging himself, pressed back against the couch, his bent knees almost against his chest. He looked like he was protecting himself, shielding himself from further hurt or damage. A touch of sympathy fluttered through her heart.

"Here you go," she said, holding his clothes out to him. Slowly, as if it hurt to do so, he uncurled himself and stood up, gingerly taking the garments from her.

Devi sat down again as he went into the bathroom to change. She clasped her hands together in her lap, staring blankly at a calligraphy pen she had left on the coffee table that morning.

So, now you know exactly what it was that fucked him up so badly, she said to herself. She had known since her conflict with Sickness that what she had experienced was a shadow of what Johnny had experienced, yet she hadn't known what it was exactly. Everything about the Doughboys and being a waste-lock seemed to fit in with what she had gone through, though. The sapping of creativity, the theft of their minds to make their mental parasites "real", the eventual ability of those parasites to actually move around on their own, the total immunity from any and all lasting harm…it all fit together too perfectly to be a coincidence. She shivered as she realized that it wasn't just some malevolent entity that had fucked with their sanity, but a necessary process in the wellbeing of the universe having gone haywire, a disastrous flaw in an indispensable system.

Are there other people in the world for whom being a waste-lock has gotten so out of control? she wondered. Are there other accumulations of emotional waste that have grown minds of their own? Are they ensnaring other people to help them break free, like Nny's monster did with me? She felt a sudden coldness bloom in her guts. What if one of them succeeds in getting out? Is this Earth mere inches away from utter chaos even now? Oh, God, please don't let that happen…

He thoughts were cut short as Johnny came out of the bathroom. He had Devi's grey pajamas draped over one forearm, and he was picking at little bits of lint that clung to his shirt. He looked odd without his boots on, but Devi paid no mind to that.

"Thanks for washing my clothes," he said, handing her the pajamas. "I really appreciate it. And…it was nice talking to you again. Brings back fond memories." His hollow cheeks reddened a little bit, a shy smile gracing his thin lips. Looking away quickly, he grabbed his boots from the floor and pulled them on, fastening the numerous buckles with practiced ease.

"You're welcome," she said. Steeling herself, she turned to face him directly. "Thank you for saving me, Nny. I'd probably be dead right now if it weren't for you."

Johnny stopped, though he didn't immediately look at her. She saw him bite his lip briefly, and then he met her eyes, his own eyes flickering in malice.

"I'd do it again if I had the chance," he said, a subtle growl in his voice. "I'd tear him limb from limb if I could. Shit like that doesn't deserve to live, not when he tried to…do that to you."

Devi bit the inside of her lower lip, yet she held his gaze steady. His words chilled her to the core, but she pushed the cold feeling down. If there had ever been any doubt that he cared for her, there certainly wasn't any now.

"I should go now," he muttered, fastening the last buckle and standing up straight. "I guess I'll…see you around."

Devi nodded silently, watching as he turned and walked toward the front door. He paused for just a moment with his hand on the doorknob, and then he was gone.

Heaving a great sigh, she collapsed back on the couch, her arm flung over her eyes.

"What a day…what a completely fucked-up day…"

To be continued…

Author's Notes: Ugh, finally I got this done. I put a lot of time and effort into this. It got rather intense toward the end, and I hope I didn't overdo it any. With any luck, I kept both Nny and Devi in-character. I realize Devi's probably a little too…I dunno…open with Nny, and Nny seems a bit too eager to divulge the details of his being a waste-lock, but I tried to keep the OOC-ness to a minimum. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and I should tell you that the next one probably won't be written until after the Christmas season is over. I've been crazy busy lately, and I barely had enough time to write this.

Thanks for your continuing patience, you guys. It really means a lot to me. Love ya.