21
Sam started up the stairs then turned and went back down. He walked into the street and looked down at the bright neon signs and the night life. He wasn't up for fun tonight. Sam was on a mission. He had to do this and get what he needed. The thing was that he still wasn't completely sure what that thing was.
He walked. He didn't want to get a cab. There was no need. The place he needed to get to wasn't too far away and he also needed time to consider exactly what it was he was going to do. He walked past bars and dark doorways leading into clubs. There were burger bars, and street vendors. The place was rattling with nightlife and Sam ignored it all. When he saw the building he wanted he ignored it and kept walking on the other side of the street. The place was dark. Only security lights seemed to be blinking… a warning for people to keep away. The huge downstairs lobby was guarded by a man sitting behind a desk with a monitor in front of him. Sam could see this shadow, but took little actual notice of him. He stayed on the other side of the street until he came to a place he could cross safely. Cars moved on by. This wasn't a place to pick someone up. This was a nice area. It was full of nice people having normal fun. No whores and rent boys hiding in the alleyways. Sam moved down one of these mostly empty alleys. There was a man and a woman necking and maybe a bit of heavy petting going on, but he scurried away quickly. Sam wasn't there for that sort of fun. Actually Sam didn't think this was going to be in the slightest.
The good thing – as far as Sam could see – was that since the slow and obvious decline of Floyd, he'd picked up on some handy skills which were obviously going free and he was going to make the most of the situation before it all fell apart again and he was back to being just the street scum whore which he knew he was, and secretly craved.
Sam was jonesing his previous life. The thought of skulking around in the back streets and walking up to cars when the window slowly opened, it made Sam's stomach churn and turn, but he also wanted desperately to be loved and needed and wanted and though whoring gave him a little bit of that it didn't give him everything. He wanted to feel that Floyd cared about what he was doing. Actually what he wanted most of all was for Floyd to come back to him – well to him and Spencer he supposed and he thought that Floyd was just going to sit back with his thumb up his arse waiting for someone to sort it out for him.
There was also the idea that by consuming what Iolanda had ripped out of Floyd that he could consume the soul and spirit of Floyd. Then Spencer would love him and not Floyd because essentially he would have become Floyd, at least in spirit and for the icing on the cake he would at last have a soul. A second hand, very used and embittered one, but that really didn't matter.
The rear of the building had a high wire fence around it. Again there were flashing lights letting Sam know that there were cameras. There were notices printed in white on a red background PRIVATE – KEEP OUT and there were some again in white but on a blue background telling Sam that the place had CCTV. Sam ran a hand over the fence. He could climb it easily.
He stood with both hands clutching the criss-cross of the wires and one foot balanced at the bottom and he felt his heart quickening and stalling and going into a wild frenzy in his chest. He felt the sweat pop out on his top lip and on his brow. He moved a hand away and wiped at his dripping nose and then licked his lips. Keeping out of sight of something like him or something other worldly was not easy, but keeping out of sight technology was relatively simple. It was easier for Floyd. Floyd didn't even have to think about it. It just seemed to happen, but Sam had to concentrate and it hurt and made him feel too hot and it made his back ache and his feet hurt. He pulled away from the fence and kicked off his shoes. His toe nails were long and dark and almost looking like the start of talons. As he walked back to the fence he could hear them clicking on the concrete flooring. He shrugged off the jacket he had on and then pulled off his shirt. He left them with his shoes, back in the dark where hopefully no one would see them.
Sam cracked his knuckles and ran his hands over his head of cropped off hair and this time he ran for the fence, leapt, landed and was dropping down the other side in two swift movements. 'I can do this.' He muttered and rubbed at his temples with his fingers. Then his hands moved to the ridge of bone just above his eyes and he felt the beginning of lumps growing there. He moved his hands down to his ribs and there again – lumps pressing out of his ribs – four each side. 'Help me do this.' Sam hissed as he dropped to his hands and knees. Again he licked his lips and had someone seen they might have noted that the tip of Sam's tongue seemed to be split and they might have picked up on the fact that Sam could run that tongue over the tip of his nose.
There was a rear entrance to something which was probably the services. The door was at the top of a ramp and the flashing light over it showed Sam that it was alarmed. Click, click he tapped the door with his nails and made a low hissing sound. The locks snapped back inside the door but it seemed to be chained on the inside. It didn't matter. The door pushed open a few inches and Sam slid his arm through the dark gap and after groping around for a few seconds found the lock. He let the chain drop and then pushed the door open a bit more. He didn't need much room. Sam seemed to almost shrink and flatten out as he slipped around the door which he closed silently behind himself.
He was in a corridor with rooms going off to the sides. It was lit up with red emergency lighting which reflected off Sam's solid dark eyes. He blinked and again on his hands and knees moved forwards quickly. The only sound he made was the occasional draw of air over his small but very sharp little teeth.
There had been a time when he couldn't control this and he thought that it had all been lost to him, but being out in the snow all that time had forced him to use talents which had lain dormant for nearly all of his life. He'd been forced to climb up into trees and spin a cocoon to keep the cold and wet off him long enough at least so that he could sleep.
And this was part of Sam's quandary. If he had a soul and became a real boy he would lose this. Death would suddenly become death and he'd be vulnerable and mortal and that scared him. Living an empty existence scared him too – or rather annoyed him. Sam wanted what Sam wanted and Sam wanted a soul… and he'd been denied it and so he wanted it all the more. It was typical really. Throw as many tantrums as he wanted and he was always told that it wasn't possible.
Except maybe it was…
But maybe he didn't want one after all… But he was still going to get Floyd what he needed at least he could return Floyd's spirit to him if not his soul. That would make both of them happy and things could then get back to normal and Sam decided that was probably for the best because being in this sort of sub-human form hurt his joints and made his nose run… and even the red lighting hurt his eyes.
The important thing was though that he was Floyd's spawn and the same way Floyd could have felt the pull, so could Sam. It was there in the middle of his brain tugging and spiking, forcing him forwards and now up a flight of stairs. These were the emergency stairs and as he half slid and half crawled up them he noted the signs over the doors FLOOR ONE – FIRE EXIT – KEEP DOORS CLOSED. He kept moving upwards gathering speed which meant that when he took the corners on the landings that his feet and hands left the floor and seemed to grip the wall. His hair had started to grow making Sam shake his head and flick his hair out of his eyes. In the red lighting his skin appeared to have turned a deep dark reddish hue, though once out of this weird lighting he would appear slightly more obvious that his skin was darkening. Down his spine his flesh was almost black and spreading out over his ribs on his back and chest. His toe and fingernails were dark and dull and his knuckles were slowly but definitely turning from the usual white to a dark grey.
The seventh floor. Sam stopped his crawling run and sat back on his heels, wrapping his arms around his chest and rubbing at the lumps which were now very obviously raised. The lab he needed was beyond this door. He shuddered and felt a strong creeping ice cold feeling wrap over him. He knew what it meant and in a way it was good. They'd frozen what they had. At least it wasn't soaking in chemicals. Sam could defrost it slowly. He would take it home and keep it under his bed and lay there on the floor next to it and watch the ice fall away and his future become real. Before he reached that stage though, he had to get what he'd come for. As far as he could tell no alarms had gone off. The place was in silence apart from the continual thrum of machinery keeping some things cool, some things warm… it kept other things in light and yet more in darkness. He could hear a tap, tap, tap of something and a very distant bleeping sound, but nothing to worry him. He pushed down the bar on the fire door and slipped through on his belly.
The light in here was not the same as on the stairs. Out here the light was a normal white light, yet very dim. It was night time. It seemed strange to Sam that any lighting would be on at all, but he wasn't overly worried. He closed his eyes against what he saw as a glare of bright light and he moved fast, keeping to the edge of the corridor, moving past doors which clicked as he approached in anticipation of being asked to open. It was the fifth door that Sam stopped at and finally stood. He grinned a small and sharp toothed grin at the door, licked the snot off his nose and then placed his blotchy pale and dark hands on the control panel. It let out a small buzz and the door slid open. 'Beautiful.' Sam hissed and walked through into a room full of freezers. The door slid behind him and the lights in the room flickered and came on. Sam blinked and slid a third protective eyelid across his eye and filtered it out and into a deep red. 'Ah…' He walked to a freezer and put his hands on the lid. 'Lunch?' He asked it. Again it was locked so he moved his fingers over it and listened to the click. He pulled the lid open and looked in at containers with labels stuck on them. 'Come… come to me.' He put his hands in to the mist that was rising from the containers, but nothing moved. Floyd's bits were sleeping. 'Sleeping beauty.' Sam giggled and began moving the containers around until he saw the one he wanted FLANDERS F ONE it was printed on the blue plastic box clearly. Sam pulled it out and placed it on the work table next to him. He unclasped the box and had a look. 'Liver for one?' He enquired of himself and smirked. Really that was all that he personally needed, but he decided that whilst he was here he might as well get the heart too. That was in a box right at the side and near the bottom. It was as though it had been pushed there because it was of such small interest. Sam was sure that Floyd would have liked to think that his heart and liver were special and on display. Maybe stuffed and mounted… like everything Floyd likes. Sam took the heart out of the box and placed it with the liver. He put the empty box back and closed and locked the freezer.
Sam left as quickly as he'd arrived only now he was up right and carrying his prize. He was careful to lock doors behind him and once on the stairs again he dropped to his stomach and slid down them head first on his belly, pushing the box carefully in front of him. He thought that once the excitement of getting what he'd come for had died off a bit that his extra bumps and lumps would slide back into his body, but if anything they seemed to be getting bigger. His sides ached as his skin stretched over the protrusions and his forehead felt tight and uncomfortable as a couple of small but quite lovely horns pressed forwards out of his skull. He stopped for a moment on the fourth landing and rubbed his hands over them. They reminded him of the tiny nubs deer get when growing their first antlers. They were velvety and smooth and glorious. He grinned and drooled and then moved on downwards. He needed to get out of here before he made a mistake and set something off, but he also knew that in this form that nothing would see him unless he wanted it to… at least nothing technical. Maybe other things like him though.
Once at the door he'd entered by he placed the box outside, slipped the chain back into place and pulled the door almost closed then slipped his arm through and secured everything into place. All he had to do now was get back over the fence and then… well then he'd take his prize home.
Grasping the handle on the top of the box in one hand he leapt at the fence again and threw himself over the top then slid into the shadows where he'd left his clothes.
'Now home.' He muttered as he pulled his Tshirt back over his head and slipped his jacket back on. It felt tight and uncomfortable, but he didn't want to leave any of his clothes behind. The sneakers wouldn't fit back on over his feet for now, so he popped them in the ice box, picked it up and walked away.
Things felt slightly wrong. He knew that he was still looking at the world through his nictitating membrane was still across, giving the world a blood red appearance and as he filtered out the world carrying on around him, the world seemed to filter Sam out as well. It was dawn and there were more people around. The skulkers down the alleyways had gone and been replaced a stink of old used up sex and lust… He flared his nostrils at the smell and wiped some of the drool off his mouth onto the sleeve of his black jacket and then he moved out into the street.
Sam was used to being ignored, but he wasn't used to not being stared at. Now it felt as though he'd gone from being less than a person to being invisible. He tried it out by standing still as someone rushed towards him in his business suit. Sam even moved to get in his way, but the man just side stepped and kept on moving. He stood there for about ten minutes as people moved around him, never quite touching, never quite seeing him standing there with his hair now down to his shoulders and his eyes reflecting back life carrying on around him. He thought it would be a brilliant chance to go rob a jewellers, but he didn't want to risk losing his prize in the blue box. He also thought that he was going to go home and watch things slowly defrost under his bed. That had been the plan. That had been what he'd wanted to do, but that didn't seem to be what he was actually doing.
'Can you help me?' Something tugged on his leg. Sam looked down to see a thing laying there. Maybe once it had been a child, but it was really quite hard to tell.
'Er – Fuck off?' Sam hissed back at it.
'Can you help me cross the road?'
'No.' Sam kicked out at the dead thing grabbing at him. 'Go home.' But now he was kneeling down at the side of the road looking at this thing. 'You're dead.' He told it with tact and sympathy.
'I need to get to the other side of the street. Mom will be waiting for me.'
Sam reached out with one hand and ran his claws over the thing's face. 'Your mom?'
'She will wonder why I'm so long. Can you help me?'
'You're dead.' He told her again. But curiosity was keeping him there looking at this thing. It was like a squashed lump of something, but it didn't smell and it wasn't being consumed by rot. It looked like a fresh kill, though Sam could tell that it wasn't. He could smell the soul and spirit in the thing and it was slowly moving away from her like in an oily pool of water. 'What's your name?'
'Alison.' She moaned. 'Can you help me?'
'Na.' Sam patted her on the… on what he thought might have been her head. 'Looks like you got run down by a truck. But you'll move on soon enough. Don't try to stay here. I don't think your mom is waiting for you any more.'
She muttered something else to him but he moved away now and stepped back onto the kerb. It was unsettling. He wondered for a moment if he was trapped now in this other world and he'd never be seen by…
… he thought… I'll never be seen by those who love me…
… and then he remembered that no one did anyway. 'Fuck you!' He shouted at her and ran onwards with his box, but not in the direction of his apartment. He was moving faster and faster in the direction of Floyd. The box was pulling him. He was making him do it. He wanted to just stop and eat it still frozen, get it done before it was too late, but something was dragging him onwards with his claws clicking on the sidewalk and the people moving silently around him.
A weird and very uncomfortable feeling. In one respect Sam felt as though he was as he should be, but if this was how he was meant to be then his life was going to go from fucked up to fucked up beyond belief. He didn't want to be invisible… he didn't want only roadkill to be able to see him. He wanted what was in the blue box and even that seemed to have a mind of its own and wasn't letting him do what he wanted with it.
He was able to make a quick phone call on the way to where he was being dragged.
o-o-o
A sense of something bad was gradually closing in on Floyd. He watched the television until he thought that his head was going to explode and his eyes start to bleed and then he turned it off to go find Dave. He cared not a jot if Dave thought he was busy. Floyd needed to talk to him. He had so much he needed to still say to him. It was good! It felt so good to be able to get this all out in the open. He walked into the small office Dave had locked himself into and stood at the open door staring at Dave who was finger brushing his hair and then rubbing at his beard. 'I feel as though I am being crushed on the inside.' Floyd announced when Dave looked at him. 'This is a sign that my spirit is taking over…'
He was going to say more but Dave stood up so fast that his chair toppled back and smacked onto the boards behind him. 'No.' Dave snapped at Floyd. 'Whatever story it is I'm not in the mood to hear it.'
'Oho.' Floyd said with a raised eyebrow. 'And I thought we were buddies. I thought that we could open up and talk to each other and I assumed thus that you'd want to know that there is a deep feeling of foreboding filling my senses.'
Dave walked around his desk and pointed at the telephone. 'Where did you go last night?'
Now it was Dave's turn to ask the unexpected. 'Why – I went to my room like a good boy.' Floyd used his best sarcastic tone.
'Where did you go! What did you do. How?'
Floyd walked right into the room and kicked the door shut behind him. He looked at the awards and certificates dressing Rossi's wall. For the most part they didn't interest him even slightly, but he feigned interest as a distraction from the boiling angry look on Dave's face. 'I went to my room… I lay there for a while and then got up and sat in the kitchen where you found me sitting once you got up. This is nice! Nice frame. Nice room. I might get my colouring book and join you in here. May I?'
'You left the house.' Dave told him.
'Maybe… maybe not. What does it matter? The only thing that matters right now is this feeling that something very shitty is going to happen and I'm not sure what that thing is.'
'Sheerwater.' Dave growled… yes growled at Floyd. 'You went there last night.'
Floyd picked up a framed photo off the shelf and ran a finger over the image. 'Woman… who is this? An old squeeze? I didn't go there last night. I was sitting in contemplation in the kitchen last night… who is this woman?'
Dave snatched it from Floyd's hands and replaced it on the shelf. 'Mind your own business.' He grabbed Floyd by the arm and directed him to the chair next to his desk. 'Sheerwater was broken into last night.'
'And so you assume it was me. It wasn't. Was anything taken?'
'You know it was.' Dave picked up his chair and sat down again.
'Wasn't me. And whoever it was I'm sure will be seen on security tapes, but how did someone get in anyway? Don't they have alarms and shit?'
'Nothing caught on camera, Floyd. Does that remind you of anyone we both know? Someone sitting in this room with me for example?'
Floyd sniffed in irritation. 'No. I was going to get things done legally. Why would I have been here talking my situation over with you if I planned on walking in and grabbing what I wanted. I know I could have done that. I am aware of that. It wasn't me. I can't prove it wasn't me. Except that I don't have what was apparently taken. The only other person I feel could have done that would be Iolanda. Which is going to be a problem. There have been others. Taki… good example of someone who would have done that just to irritate the fuck out of me, but he's gone… so that leaves Iolanda and therefore I'm going to have to go to your kitchen and start throwing crockery, because I'm a bit pissed off about that. However… I'm feeling something strange in my… in my being. It's as though something threatening is approaching. Something which is going to… maybe if I'm not using extraordinary care, going to hurt me. And by that I mean… hurt me. Do you know what I mean? Do you have a cellar? This might sound as though I want to run away and hide, but I was just curious if there is somewhere secure I can erm – go to.'
Rossi thought of his expensive bottles of wine and the damage and costs and shook his head. 'This is bothering you more than I thought it would. Dare I say that you looked worried?'
'Worried.' Floyd echoed. 'Can I tell you a little story… it will put things into perspective I think. A long time ago, well a few years now, I was with my Spencer and we were in a car. He was moaning and getting lippy with me. Irritating me. Trying to mouth me. Becoming so that I had to silence him. I admit that I hit him. I smacked him under the jaw with my elbow and Spencer shut up. He went limp and… and I think that was the very first time that a direct action from me caused me to panic. I did panic, though I'm loath to admit such shit now. I can't fully get a grasp on why I felt fear that I'd done harm to him that I might not be able to fix. I wasn't so… I wasn't as capable back then. I tried to wake him and couldn't. I honestly tried. I shook him, prodded him and maybe even slapped him a bit, but he wouldn't wake.' Floyd sighed and walked to the door, opening it and peering out into the hallway. 'I drove him to a hospital, even though it was putting my own self in mortal peril.'
'What a hero.' Rossi snapped.
'Think what you want! As I said, I don't fully understand that now myself. Why would I panic over such? Why should it matter to me that he might have died? It's not something which should happen. I'm not meant to feel an emotional tie to my dogs… my boys… to the mark… oh hell I don't know what to call it. See how confused this is making me? My mind is being swamped as though something has reached in there and removed everything I felt.' He walked right out into the passage and looked back at Dave who was still sitting. 'What happens when a psychopath who had control over his actions because of emotional attachment suddenly has nothing to stop him from doing the most… well… what's to stop me if I no longer give a shit? It's a worrying concept, don't you think? I've lost communication with The Old Woman. That is… it's like having your air supply cut off. It feels like I have a mask over my face but the tank is empty… what's going to happen?'
Well Dave had no idea what Floyd was babbling on about. But it seemed that the man was saying that he was suffering some kind of break down, or a psychotic break, but surely when that happens you don't know it's happened. You don't realise that what you're saying or doing is different… it wasn't a normal reaction. 'Maybe you need to sleep.' Dave suggested. Did he sound nervous? He thought that he did, but he didn't know if Floyd had noted the change in the pitch and tone of his voice. He walked out into the passageway and stood with Floyd looking down towards the door.
'There is someone there.' Floyd said. 'I can feel it pulling at me and I can feel myself being repelled by it. Something wants me.'
The sudden hammering on the door made Dave jump, but Floyd just tipped his head to the side as though he was listening to a voice in his head. 'It's not Iolanda.' He moved forwards.
The hammering continued.
'Don't let it in. It's demonic. It's diabolical.'
'And you're not?' Dave moved closer to the door. The hammering carried on echoing through the house.
'I'm pure. I'm angelic. I am the giver of life and I am… Dave… don't open the fucking door! It can't come in if you don't… oh fucking fuck. Why don't you listen to me?'
Sam stood there holding out the blue box. 'Trick or treat?' He asked.
Dave tried to understand what he was looking at. It sounded like Sam and it looked a bit like Sam, but that thing standing there was either in very good makeup or was as Floyd had said… Demonic.
'Can you see me?' Sam waved his free hand in front of Dave's face. 'People can't see me. This is so much shit! I am going to get so fucking lonely and bored if I can only interact with road kill and shadows.'
'I can see you.' Dave muttered in a voice that sounded like his mouth was full of mud.
'I guess that's because you've had a close encounter of the Floydian Kind.' He pushed by Dave and grinned at Floyd. 'I got you something. And to be honest with you I was going to keep it for me, but I seem to be here and the contents of this blue box dragged me here. I think I'd probably just keel over and die if I tried to eat it. So yeah… happy birthday I guess.' He walked to Floyd who was still standing with his head cocked to one side. No willing waiting hands came up to take the box from Sam. There seemed to be no reaction at all.
'Sam?' Dave now managed to say. 'What's going on?'
Now Floyd spoke. He spat his words with venom that hurt Sam's feelings as much as a knife across is pretty throat would have hurt. 'I'll tell you what's going on. This thing… this creature from the pits of hell it self is trying to trick me. I'll not accept your gift you vile animal. Go back to the gutter. Crawl with your own filth. I don't want you. No one will want you now. I reject you as my spawn. Go to hell Sam.'
'Eat shit and die.' Sam replied. 'I did this for you!'
'No.' Floyd backed away from the box. 'You didn't. If you had thought then you'd know that what is in that box will kill me as easily as…'
'Bollocks!' Sam howled. 'I brought this here so you would stop whining on about what a sorry story your life is. You've let the other… that stuff inside of you… you've allowed it take over. Oh my fucking God! I don't believe you! Look at me! Look! Is that why I can't change back? You can't reject me! You can't tell me to go back! I'm yours!'
'Excuse me?' Dave said. 'Exactly what is going on?'
Sam turned to look at Dave as Floyd backed into the kitchen and stood behind one of the stools. He placed his hands over the low backrest and waited. He waited for Sam to get close enough.
'Hey.' Another voice from the doorway now and Spencer stood there wearing clothes that needed ironing and a face that needed a slap. 'Sam called me and said to meet here. What's going on?'
'Well fuck! Why can't you mind your own fucking business?' Floyd shouted at the gathering. 'I've been… I've… Go home Spencer. Just get the fuck out of here…' He glanced between Spencer and Sam and then back again. 'Oh I get it. I get what's going on here. What the fuck was I thinking? All this time I was facing my trials here and attempting to figure out what to do next and how it would effect you as my companions… all that time I was suffering you were fucking Sam! You…'
'Suffering?' Sam asked. 'You think you're suffering? I'm the one who had the brains to go find what you needed. I'm the one who actually did it without killing people in the process. I'm the one who's been thrown to the side and told you don't want me! I'm the one stuck looking like a Halloween costume! And you say you're suffering! You don't know the first…' The stool took off and as if it was connected to Sam's face with a bit of string impacted hard enough to knock him back off his feet. The box flew from his hand, opened on impact, and his sneakers and a couple of internal organs slipped to the hardwood floor.
'Suffering!' Floyd bellowed but didn't move from the spot he was standing. 'Feel that? That's pain, that's suffering. I give you permission to bawl like an angry child, you stupid dickwad! Look at you!'
Spencer looked at the things on the floor and then looked at Floyd. 'I'm not going to apologise for anything. You've been insufferable for a while now. What did you want or expect me to do? Did you want me to return to storage until you were ready for me again? Even though you'd been playing around? Yes I got a phone call… yes I know what you did. What did you think I was going to do? Hide under the bed and cry?'
'Well it would have been a start.' Floyd snapped back at him. 'I didn't expect you to go sticking your disgusting dick up Sam's backside.'
Spencer opened his mouth to shout something back, but Rossi was staring at him now and Sam was crawling over the floor dripping blood from his mouth. He looked at Sam, Floyd, Dave… then back to Floyd again. 'Can we talk without shouting.'
'NO!' Floyd howled back at him. 'Look at that!' He jabbed a finger in Sam's direction. 'The creature… the… you… you fucked that!'
Dave scooped up the things on the floor and put Sam's sneakers by the floor. It was to Sam he went and tried to give a form of comfort, but this still was making no sense at all. There seemed to be things pushing up from under Sam's skin as though his bones were growing lumps. His skin was a horrible grey colour and his eyes were almost glowing… and red… no white… or pupil… just red. It wasn't possible unless Sam had gone and gotten implants done and had contacts in. It was the only explanation, but why he would have done it, Dave didn't know.
Spencer approached Floyd slowly. No sudden moves. For a change it looked like it was Floyd who was caught in the headlights. He stood eyes wide and sweat dripping down the side of his face. 'Floyd.' Spencer put a hand out to him. 'We need to sort things out.'
'We don't.' Floyd told Spencer, but he took his hand and gripped it tightly. 'I don't need you, Spence. I don't need you. I can't need you. It makes me weak. It makes me sloppy and I make mistakes.'
Spencer moved closer now, squeezing on Floyd's hand. 'You've protected me most of my life. And yes I had fun with Sam, but that was just spite. I wanted to hurt you for hurting me. It was stupid and it wont happen again.'
'It will. You will do it again. And I don't care. Go to him.' Floyd's fingers unwrapped from Spencer's but Reid kept holding tight.
'You do care. You were shouting and angry at what I did. Why?'
'You fucked him.' Floyd growled at Spencer. 'You and Sam… you…'
'And that bothers you.' Spencer still kept a tight hold on Floyd's hand.
'Yes it bothers me! Of course it fucking bothers me! I love you!' Floyd jerked his hand in an attempt to get away, but it wasn't really much of an attempt. 'Fuck… I don't love you Spencer. I can't…'
'Because admitting that makes you vulnerable?' Spencer asked him.
'Babes, because if I admit that fully… if I let that happen, then I'll take back into me what Sam brought and I'll be violently ill for a while, but I'll go back to how I was and those feelings and those emotions… they got me killed and I'm not going to risk that again.'
Spencer turned slightly to look at Sam who was now sitting bawling like a child with his arms wrapped around his shins. 'He's your spawn, Floyd. You can't reject him. Look what's happening to him! You're killing him as well as yourself. He's reverting. He will fade away and die. You want to kill Sam? Because that's what's going to happen. He phoned me. He told me what was going on. It's fairly obvious, don't you think, that your rejection and now refusal to take back what is yours is killing Sam.'
Floyd ground his teeth and looked over to where Sam was sobbing. 'I don't want to hurt you.' Floyd muttered.
Spencer pulled Floyd around to look at him again. 'Listen to me. Listen… you are killing Sam. You will die too and you'll have solved nothing… nothing except for letting Iolanda get his own way. He's poisoned you. He's done that to Sam. Are you going to let him? Are you going to let him continue to have his own way here?'
There was a nod from Floyd and then he looked over to Dave. 'Have you got a food blender I can use?'
'What?' Images of Floyd feeding Spencer and Sam into his lovely blender went through his mind. 'What for?'
'I'll do what Sam and Spencer want. I'll take it back, but I'll drink it.'
'No.' Dave told Floyd. 'I certainly don't have a blender.'