20

Spencer thought that considering they were breaking into what classed as a prison to free what the brothers considered to be a demon, that there would be the sound of pursuit before now. Not that he wanted to have to face angry brothers, but the fact that he couldn't hear them was making him all the more nervous. Were they sneaking up behind them? Were they just around the corner waiting? Spencer stood with his back to Az who was still waving his hands around and muttering words Spencer didn't understand and looked back down the long passageway in the direction they'd come. He was tempted to go back up a level and see if there was any sign that someone had followed, but he didn't trust that Az would do what was required of him. Not that Az could get by him and not be noticed. No one could miss that whorish red garb he was wearing.

Spencer's expression changed from curiosity to hate as he turned again and looked at Az standing there like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

'How much longer?' He knew he shouldn't keep distracting him, but it was impossible not to.

Az gave a single shouldered shrug. 'Want to take my place?' He snapped back.

Of course Spencer didn't want to, and couldn't. And that narked him all the more. He wanted to be the one to rescue Sam. He didn't want to work with Az. The temptation to just smack Az's brains out on the door was getting stronger. The vile hatred he was feeling for him was building up to a point he didn't think he'd be able to just stand and do nothing for much longer.

'Why is no one coming yet?' Spencer now asked.

And Az spun around and glared at Spencer who was standing there in his slightly shredded clothes, looking more like a homeless person, and certainly smelling like one. 'I don't know! I don't know! Just keep your mouth shut and stand still! You want me to hurry up but you wont let me get on and do what I'm meant to do.'

'Because maybe I think you've been messing with me all along. I think I could have just of easily reached this point on my own and I wouldn't have had to suffer your arrogance along the way. You're just attempting to hold me up. You want to get caught.' These words sounded so rational to Spencer as he spat them out at Az. 'You can't open that door can you? Admit it!'

Az took a step closer towards Spencer. 'I'm doing my best!'

That wasn't good enough. Hadn't The Old Woman said that when he thought that he'd done his best that he had to do more… push harder… 'I don't think that you are. That's what I mean. You're holding me up here in the hopes that someone else will come and stop it. You're hoping… you want them to assume I dragged you down here. You want them to kill me and rescue you. You want somehow to look like the hero.'

Again both Spencer and Az had their hands in tight fists at their sides. 'I'm not trying to hold you up. I'm trying to do what Floyd requested. I'm trying to rescue The Sam for you. Why can't you just accept that?'

'It wont work.' Spencer took a step closer to Az… now only a few feet from each other.

'It will work, and Isgar-Quenell will see that I've done this for him and I'll be rewarded.' Az seemed to pull himself up and straighten his shoulders with the surety of his words. His manner changed abruptly when Spencer's fist smacked him in the mouth.

The fight that followed was a hair pulling, scratching, shin kicking, bitchfest. It was a shame no one was there to watch it. Floyd would have loved to have seen it and Sam would have placed bets. Spencer spat the words… 'You can't have him!'

… and Az spat back… 'He will reward me!'

'By not killing you himself! That's all. He doesn't want you! Why would he want you?' The rage built as the fists swung and smacked.

Az felt something give when Spencer backhanded him across his nose. He wailed and put his hands to his face and backed up against the door he'd been trying to open. 'I don't stink! I don't smell of sewers. I'm not old and ugly and… and I'm not about to go mad because I can't have my fix! I'm not a junky! I'm not a whore! I am perfection! I am perfect and…' He burst into pathetic tears again. 'I offer myself to him.'

'Why? Why offer yourself to him. Why become what you hate so much? Just open the door. Open it and let's get Sam.'

'No.' Az moved to the side. 'No. If the reward isn't coming then why should I do this? What's the point?' He rubbed at his scratched bruised face with the back of his hand. 'The door is unlocked. Good luck. I've done what I was asked to do. The rest is up to you. Get your demon from The Pit. Do it. I'm going to show my support to Isgar. See you around.' Az sidled by Spencer. 'Do your own dirty work human.' He hissed and broke into a long legged lope down the corridor back the way they'd come.

'Az!... no Az! Come back!' But there was no reply. He disappeared around the corner and was gone.

'Crap.' Spencer muttered. He now stood next to a door - which he thought would probably blow him to pieces - alone and with no idea what to do next. He considered chasing Az and smacking his brains out and he considered chasing him and apologising. Though he didn't know what he should be apologising for! Az had the delusional idea that he could replace him in Floyds affections. He was going to be very disappointed. For a few minutes Spencer listened out for screams. There were none. There was nothing but the very, very distant sound of something crying. At first he thought it was from Az, but now Spencer realised that it was coming from behind the door.

'Sam.' Spencer moaned. He picked up the rope he'd dropped during his little scrap with Az and stood looking at the door handle. It would either open the door or kill him. There was going to be nothing in the middle. 'Sam! I'm on my way!' Spencer shouted out and then wished he'd not. Az might be waiting beyond the corner… he might be watching and waiting for the door to blow up and kill him. Az could then just walk in and do the final rescue. Again he was tempted to go and see if Az was there. He even turned and started to walk slowly away from the door.

'This is a trick. It's designed to stop me.' He spoke aloud and as he said the words all the hate and stupid jealousy he'd been feeling about Az fell away. 'Damn this. Damn it! I need Az back here.' But Spencer turned to the door and without thinking again wrapped his fingers around the handle and pulled it open.

Nothing dramatic happened. No bang. No gaseous mists and explosions. All there was, was the mosaic floor with a metal grill set in the middle… and a horrible pathetic mewling sound.

o-o-o

Floyd sat down in the chair his side of the desk. He rested back into it and ran his fingers of one hand through Shelton's hair and picked at a crust of blood on his neck with the other.

'I want a two storey home with a wrap around porch. I'd like three bedrooms. A nicely fitted kitchen and a small loo in a space under the stairs. I'd like the building to be painted white. I don't want no cheap and nasty coloured trim. All over white is so much easier to keep clean. I want a rocking chair on the front porch and a couple of hammocks out the back. A few acres of land… wooded land. I don't want animals. I've never really got on with animals all that well. Hard enough keeping Spencer and Sam in line… Sam is my dog. The only dog I'll every want or need. I want cosy evenings in front of an open fire. I want…' Floyd could feel his heart pounding, skipping, jumping in his chest. His face felt suddenly too hot. The room felt smoky and dark… '…Why am I telling you what I want? You can't provide me with my needs. You're not able. You're just someone's ape… an ape on a very short leash I'd imagine. You've no more power to give me what I want than that thing there in the corner. I do have some questions for you though. Why? Why did you send Sam into The Pit. You could have controlled him. Had a pretty little servant. Why did you hide him away? Wont They be pissed that you've captured one of their own? It makes no sense. Really it doesn't. Not if you have the power you say you have, which I know for fucking sure that you don't. You've got the ability to stomp your ugly size fifteens all over The Bastion. And you've got the ability to get some, but not many, brothers to do what you want? But when it comes down to it, really your only skill is that you are like me. You were created as a brother and so they can't kill you. That's some safety net don't you think? But then I have to ask myself something else… and this is the puzzling thing… and it's been there in the back of my head setting off alarm bells for a while now. A long fucking while if you take into account that I've live a whole fresh fucking lifetime since it happened, but this… Why did They send me here? Why is that do you think? They knew that the brothers wouldn't stop me from doing what I wanted. They knew that until very recently I'd never hurt a brother, whereas I've hurt a ton and a fucking half of their lot… so it puzzles me. Why did they send me over here when they knew full fucking well what was going to happen when I arrived. They fucking knew that the brothers would use me against you. Don't you think? They knew that the brothers wouldn't kill me. But I think they had a pretty good idea that I'd kill them… no proof as I've pointed out already, but it doesn't take much to get my blood up. So Vaas, why was I sent here?'

'The reasons are not important.' Vaas snarled.

'They're very important! You see what I see is a totally different picture to what you see. I know you have enough power in your darling little finger to pick your own nose and that's it. You just have a big mouth and a muddle of words which are lies for the most part. You've learnt to lie. You've learnt to deceive. Not really much of a trick is it! Now I've been sitting here a while thinking… And when I get to thinking then I get to mulling over things said and why they're said and how and all the connotations which go along with it and I've come to the only logical conclusion I can think of…

'…I'm never going to see The Forest again. That's OK… I'm pissed, I'm actually gutted and I'll mourn that, but it's going to have to be that way I think. They actually don't much like you or Shelton or Rek… they knew that the brothers would recruit me. They knew I'd kill Az. They knew everything already. They needed rid of you… That lot which sit up in the clouds and play harps and shit, they knew… it's them who made the deal with the Dark. It was them who got me hauled over here. I'm an assassin. That's it. That's what I've decided. I'll likely get paid well. Life ever lasting for my Spencer? I don't think so. It's not good… living forever… immortality sucks the big one sometimes, but Spencer has enough to keep him going for now. If he eventually grows old, I'll care for him. If he needs nursing, I'll nurse him. If he needs to be loved, I'll love him. Exterior and interior don't often match. If that makes sense to you. It doesn't matter if my Spencer is a bent up old fuck… He will still be mine and he'll be mine in an honest way… no deals with things which aren't able to make them. You understand? And yes, I'll have Sam to love and screw around with once Spencer can't or doesn't want that anymore. So there we are. The end of it I suppose. I'm going to finish what I started. I'll recover Spencer, recover Sam… kill Az and everyone will be happy.' Floyd stood, wobbled and stood with his hands at his sides. 'Ready?'

'You're insane. If you really think that's what happened, then you're madder than we all thought you were.'

'Absolutely possible! I'll not deny that, but maybe we'll never find out and I don't need you to give me a wrap around porch and a rocking chair do I?'

A soft hiss as the sword left the scabbard.

'You wouldn't dare risk everything on your stupid ideas.'

'Oh but I would! And that's what makes me who I am. It's my I don't give a shit attitude that's so attractive. I'll make sure that your head is spiked along with this one on my belt and with Rek. I'll make sure Az joins them… if not for any other reason than I don't trust him and I don't want that pretty untrustworthy arse following me into hell.'

'You… Isgar-Quenell…'

It was the last thing Vaas said. Unless you count the thump his head made as it flew from his shoulders and hit the desk. Floyd turned to the creature cowering in the corner. 'Don't fucking look at me like that!'

It quivered and nodded. 'You were right.' It hissed at him.

'Of course I was right! I'm never fucking wrong. Go back to your master… you don't want to hang around here. I'd say all hell is about to break loose, but naaa… it's going to be singing and finger-painting for a year or so now. Unless you like Turkish delight and crazy happy clappy camp fire songs, I'd get the fuck out of here.'

o-o-o

Had Spencer followed Az and gone around the corner he'd have found him sitting on the stairs with his arms wrapped around his head sobbing silently. This was absolutely the worst day of Az's life. Even having his neck snapped didn't compare to how horrible today was. He'd messed everything up. If he didn't go back and help, Isgar would have no want or need to reward him… If he did go back he'd have to face Spencer and admit that he was wrong and Spencer was right. He couldn't do that either. There was only one other option and the thought of it made Az break out into goose bumps over his back. The red tunic top was stuck to the sweat on his back and was itching under his arms. Az pulled it off and threw it to the side. He didn't care any more if anyone saw that he got pleasure from some things. It really no longer mattered. Isgar had marked him and from that point Az's life as he'd known it was over. He wished so much that he could have told his masters that he didn't want to keep Isgar awake. He wished he'd had the guts to do that. He wished he'd known what danger he'd put himself into and he might have been better prepared for this mess. He grabbed the tunic and wiped blood and tears and sweat off his face and dropped it to the side again. Spencer had broken his pretty nose. He'd split his lip… he'd bitten the inside of his mouth and his ears stung. Az had grazed his knuckles though… that put a small smile on his face. He stood and glanced down at his torso. That was supreme. It was a beautiful torso… even Az could see that it was perfect. All he'd have to do was let Isgar see it and he'd throw that pathetic Spencer to the side and would pull him… Az, into his arms and all his troubles and problems would be over. He removed the smug smile from his face and walked down the few steps and out back down the corridor again. He could see that the door was open and he could see Spencer hunkered down just this side of it.

'Spencer?'

Spencer heard his name being called and turned his head to look. He knew it was Az. A slightly nasal speaking Az, but the whining voice was unmistakable. 'What? I thought you'd gone running to Floyd to get your candy.' Spencer's eyes were locked on that fit, lithe body walking towards him, but most of the anger had gone now. He was just overwhelmed by the stress, he was tired, his head, face, hands, shins, toes… all hurt… and there was Az coming back like a lost kitten. Spencer wanted to be annoyed but he just turned his head and looked over at the mosaic floor. 'Do these patterns mean anything?' He asked… He didn't care if he was talking to himself.

Az knelt down next to Spencer and pointed out a couple of patterns set in which looked like spokes of a wheel. 'Just avoid those. The rest should be OK. I'm not sure that it'll be OK for The Sam though. We'll need to be careful. I'll unlock the grate.' Az stood… wafting his smells in Spencer's direction and then he placed a hand on Spencer's shoulder. 'I think this place makes people argue… get irrational. I apologise.'

Spencer shrugged the hand off his shoulder and stood. He said nothing. This feeling he had inside of himself now wasn't something put there to slow them down, this was raw dislike. Not hatred. Really Spencer didn't think he could hate anyone for any length of time. He could feel sorry for them and dislike them… even feel intense jealousy… hate? Maybe… maybe he could. Maybe Spencer didn't like that side of him. That side of him which swung as quickly from hate to love… just as Floyd did. Another habit he'd picked up from him. Or maybe he'd picked it up from Sam. Spencer felt this teeth clench. Whatever the reason for smacking Az in the face, Spencer wasn't going to apologise. It had felt good. It had felt damned wonderful to feel that cute nose give way. Spencer shook the thoughts from his head and nodded. He stood, glanced again at Az's perfect body and bit back any comment of sluttish behaviour he was beginning to think.

'Well go on then. Unlock it. I need to get Sam out of there.' No sign of gratitude. Spencer would have torn his own tongue out before doing that. If this place was meant to be a place of peace and happiness, Spencer didn't think it suited him too well. Spencer looked down at his arms which suddenly felt sore and noted that he'd scratched and pinched his inner arms until in places they were bleeding. I need something to calm me down he moaned inwardly… Either to calm me down or to intensify everything… either would allow him to think clearing than having this fog of confusion eating away at his emotions and thoughts. He started scratching at his neck as the pair of them walked over the patterns on the floor towards the grate. Az pointed to a place for Spencer to stand, and then muttered words and drew patterns over the grate. There was a small groaning clicking sound and a small red light central to the grate suddenly lit up.

'We have thirty seconds to remove it.' Az pointed to the grate. 'Maybe some help? It's heavy.'

Spencer looked at Az's muscled back. He looked at the small but very well formed smooth muscles in his arms and hated him all over again. His own arms were messed up. Never to be smooth and beautiful again. Some of it he'd done. Some of it Floyd had done. Spencer bit down on his bottom lip, crouched and stuck his fingers between the grate. 'Sam… we're here!' He tried to sound happy. He thought he just sounded pissed off and tired.

o-o-o

Sam had huddled to the side. He had his back to the wall, his arms around his shins and his head on his knees. He had been doing a lot of crying. A hell of a lot of crying. Sam didn't think he deserved this treatment. He hurt… every part of him hurt. He was dirty, smelly and he felt sick, hungry and thirsty. His lips were swollen and sore and his tongue felt like a big furry creature had crawled into his mouth. There was also the matter that his hair was matted and caked in goo and blood and all sorts of other nasty things. He'd been sitting in darkness, feeling his bones knit back together, feeling his brain itch and itch and itch until he didn't think he could stand it any longer. His back hurt and his neck ached. The only part of him that felt like it hadn't been smashed was the small toe on his left foot. He was better than he was though. Now that the itching and scraping and pulling and digging feelings were dying away he had allowed himself to tumble into deep self pity. When light suddenly shone down from above he thought they'd come to taunt and mess with his mind. He had been sure that he'd heard Spencer's voice, but that couldn't be. It would be Floyd who would rescue him, not Spencer. Floyd would have come and got him. Floyd would have killed everything to get to him… but yes, that was Spencer calling down. There was another voice there, but for now Sam couldn't place whose voice that was. It wasn't Floyd. That's all that mattered.

He squinted up at the bright circle of light and heard a scraping popping sound as something was moved. 'Hey Sam!' That was Spencer again.

'Spencer?' URG! His voice sounded like an old man. An old man who had been chewing razor blades for the past fifty years.

'I'm here. I'm going to drop a rope down. Can you climb?'

Could he climb? Yes he probably could. He had a feeling that he could put his hands and feet on the side of the pit and climb up like a big juicy spider. The lumps on his ribs throbbed at the thought. 'No…' He told Spencer. 'You'll have to pull me out.' Sod climbing. Sod it. He'd have climbed for Floyd but not for Spencer.

'I'll put a loop on the end and you can slip it around you. We will pull you out.' Spencer sounded tired, but maybe relieved.

We? There was someone else there then. Sam had been right. 'Who are you with?' Sam slowly, using the wall for support, stood. He still had to squint though. The bright light was digging into his eyes like shards of glass. Eyes? He had two eyes! At least for now he did. Ah… wonderful. Sam smiled for a second then put back on his pained miserable face. Wouldn't do good to look happy. 'Who else is there?' He mumbled with his tongue which was too big for his mouth.

'It's OK!' Spencer replied. 'It's just Az.'

Just. Just Az. Great! How can the day improve? He didn't bother replying. He really didn't know what to say other than calling Az a dirty cunt and he wasn't really in the right place to express that sort of endearment. At least not yet. Soon. Oh soon. He watched the snake of rope fall down from the circle of light and saw the loop he was expected to be hauled up with. It was going to hurt like a son of a bitch, but he gritted his lovely new razor sharp teeth and moved slowly over towards it. He picked it up and stood holding it for a while. He could see his hands for the first time and he could see how long and sharp his fingernails were. Whatever this place had done to him, it had improved on all sorts of fabulous things.

'Sam?' Spencer's worried voice called down.

'Wait. Just wait a fucking second. I'm in deep and dreadful agony here.' Again his voice sounded strange. 'Do you have water? I'm as thirsty as a whore in heat.' He wondered if Az was thirsty too as he dropped the loop over his head and pushed his slender pale arms through. He pulled the loop tight and held on to the length above his head. 'OK… but just slow… I don't want you ripping my arms off.'

Spencer pulled slowly on the rope and Sam felt his feet leave the floor and then his toes and he was swinging. The rope scraped up his ribs and dug into his armpits. He gripped tighter onto the rough rope and moaned and whined and bitched. He told Spencer to slow down, speed up, be careful, stop swinging him like a monkey. He bounced off the side a few times and cried out in pain – and then exaggerated it and cried louder. The rope dug in harder, grazing his skin and skinning his hands. He yelped out a few times when he thought he'd broken a fingernail, but no, it was all good… but causing a fuss was what Sam did best and so he made the most of the situation and cried and yelped out some more. When the circle of light was close enough Sam reached up and grabbed at the edge of the opening. He cried out now in delight and happiness… but not for long.

Spencer grabbed at Sam's upper arms and helped him out the last little bit. Sam knelt on the edge of the opening and wrapped his arms tightly around Spencer. 'Thank you, thank you.' He felt Spencer hugging him back and life for a short while seemed to be perfect. Then he looked up and saw Az standing there in his impossibly tight small red jeans and no top. And Sam's world fell apart again for a while. Az looked wonderful. He was sweaty and beautiful… his eyes shone and that body! That lovely body which needed to be used so badly… and it was all Sam could take. He was sure that Floyd had been screwing him. He was sure that Spencer had joined in. He was sure that all the time he'd been down that pit, which had felt to Sam like a thousand years, that they'd been playing their games with a pretty boy replacement. Sam howled and coughed and sobbed and Spencer held him tight and told him that everything was going to be wonderful. He was safe. Everything was great.

And Sam rubbed desperately against Spencer… he pressed his dirty stinking horrible body against Spencer and he wanted to… really wanted to bite Spencer on the neck and suck the blood out of him. He ran his tongue over the throbbing on the side of Spencer's neck and he felt the hot skin with his teeth.

'We need to go.' Spencer pushed him away slightly. Pushed him away! That was proof… all the proof he wanted. All the proof he needed. He'd been replaced by that red whore standing there all… all… slutty!

'Just remember not to walk on the…' Az started to talk.

Spencer cut him off with the look he gave him. 'We are not going back with you.' Spencer snapped at him. 'Your job is done.'

Sam gave Az a dirty look as Spencer dug into his pocket and pulled out the purple candy. He just hoped it worked.

'I can…' Again Az started to speak.

'No…' Spencer muttered. 'We're not going back that way.' And he popped the candy into his mouth and sucked furiously on it. If nothing happened he was going to look pretty stupid!

o-o-o

Floyd sat on the green leather chair with the sword in his hand and the new head on his lap. He closed his eyes… at least what was left of his eyes and took a long deep breath. He'd played their game. Now what was going to happen?

It was the temperature change which alerted Floyd that something had happened. He then realised that he wasn't sitting on the chair any more but on his butt on a smooth floor. At first he thought he'd been shot straight back to hell, but when he opened his eyes all he saw was white… white going on forever. Smooth whiteness with nothing to disturb it. He still had his heads and he still had the sword, which he now put down. He moved a hand slowly over his face feeling again for the damage. One eye was swollen and sore, the other was a scabby lump. His nose was broken, he had smashed teeth… apart from that everything was great. He stood up, letting the new head roll off his lap and tumble across the floor. He had no idea where he was. Not a clue. He tried to remember if he'd been to a place like this before and there was nothing there. So he guessed this was death. This was his eternity. Which was better than the pits of hell. But not really what he wanted. 'Hello?' He spoke… his voice was loud and clear. There was no echo…

'What do you want?'

The voice spoke into Floyd's head with such volume that he clapped his hands over his ears. What was it with things trying to deafen him recently? 'Well, I dunno where the fuck I am… how did I get here?'

'We brought you here.'

Wow… that made his brain vibrate. 'Then why are you asking me why I'm here?' Floyd spoke almost as a whisper.

'I asked you what you want, not why are you here.' A small pause. 'You served well. You have a reward. What do you want?'

Floyd tried to raise an eyebrow and couldn't. His face seemed to have lost some of its usual flexibility. 'I want…' He said no more. He really didn't know how to put it in words… he didn't want to make a mistake. 'I…'

'Shall we just pull your needs from your head, Isgar?' The voice didn't sound angry. It sounded curious. It sounded calm. It sounded like a patient parent talking to a slightly slow child.

'Yeah. I think.' Floyd mumbled.

It felt like there were ants crawling over his brain. He scratched at his head and winced, but didn't complain. He didn't seem able to complain. 'Your thoughts are confused.' The voice said. 'I will have to go deeper and take what you really want. I know that these surface needs are not true.'

'Well they just might be.' Floyd mumbled… but it made no difference. The pain hit him like a truck had just smacked into him. He flailed backwards… then as he fell clutched his head which he was very sure was going to explode with the pressure which was suddenly there. He arched his back, cracked his head on the floor repeatedly, bit his tongue, and did a fair bit of old fashioned screaming and kicking. It didn't stop. Floyd didn't think it was ever going to stop. So this was his punishment? Eternal pain?

He felt his heart stop. He felt his lungs stop taking in air… he clawed at his chest, his throat, his face… he rolled onto his front and tried to get away… he moved one arm… one leg and fell on his face - still.

Something moved next to his arm.

Something cool was under the side of his face.

Floyd lay unmoving on his front and sobbed like a small child. How long had it been since he'd cried like this? He didn't know. He could feel a hand stroking the back of his neck, he could feel someone holding him and rocking him and Floyd like the spoilt child he was kept his eyes closed and cried… He cried for Spencer who he thought he'd lost. He cried for Sam who he thought he'd lost. He cried for The Forest. He cried for his bike… he cried for Anthony and Little River. He cried for those nights he could have been with Spencer, holding him tight, but had wandered off to have fun somewhere else. He cried until he thought he was going to puke and then slowly stopped.

Someone else took hold of him. More hands touched him and stroked him.

Floyd wanted death to hurry up.

He couldn't take these shadows of memories playing with him any more. He should have listened. He should have taken the offer. He should have begged for Spencer and Sam… mainly for Spencer.

'Oh god… what have I done?' He moaned.