Angel Dust

A/N: Things were a little slow at work today, so I did something I was determined not to do with this story - I started outlining. From the beginning, this story has flowed from me in a way that none of my stories have - and I've taken my hands off and tried my damnedest to just let it tell itself. But my "control freak" got the better of me today, and I mapped out the next eleven chapters. I'm excited with the direction that I'm headed, and I hope you continue to enjoy it.

With that being said, I know you've all been wondering what in the world is going through Dave's head after Courtney dropped the big confession. So here it is. Enjoy!

Everything inside him was aching, but since Dave no longer had the ability to cry actual tears, he settled for the next best thing – breaking everything he could get his hands on. Pottery was scattered in pieces on the floor of his room, amongst shards of glass and splintered wood. He had overturned the couch, obliterated the kitchen table, and kicked the platform in the center of the room onto it's side.

For the first time in his life, he felt completely betrayed. And it pissed him off.

Growling, he headed for the hallway. Punching every door that he passed, he felt the anger building as he advanced toward Eddie's room.

Pregnant. She had been fucking pregnant. With their child. His child. His wife had terminated the life of his unborn child without so much as a word to him. Throwing the door to Eddie's room open, he hissed, "That bitch killed my kid."

Both Eddie and Trish turned from their conversation on the couch, staring at Dave with a mixture of shock and confusion. They had each seen him angry, but this was beyond rage. This was beyond passion. Unadulterated hatred radiated from his eyes as he slammed the door behind him and punched the wall.

"Hey, man," Eddie stated, standing from the couch. "Clearly, you're not in a good mood. But go break your own shit," he scolded. The look on Dave's face sent him a step backward. "You already broke your own shit," he stated knowingly.

"Dave, what's going on?" Trish asked, her calm, soothing voice blanketing the room with a mild warmth.

Still shaking with fury, Dave forced himself to take a few deep breaths. Though he didn't really need the air, he found that the motion helped his nerves a bit. "Courtney just told that punk-ass Nitro all about how she fucking killed our baby," he spat.

Eddie's mouth dropped open and Trish sank to the sofa, her legs feeling weak. "What?" she whispered.

"Man, you need to have a seat," Eddie started, motioning for his friend to join them on the couch.

Dave sat, mostly because he didn't know what else to do. His body was moving on instinct. He damn sure wasn't in control anymore. "She was pregnant. Right before I died. And she terminated without telling me." His tone was low and even, though Eddie and Trish couldn't really be sure that was a good thing in his present state.

They were all silent for a moment, until Eddie shook his head. "Why would she do that? Courtney loved you, man. You guys used to talk about kids all the time."

"Apparently," Dave started, his voice thick with sarcasm, "I wasn't "daddy" material. I had a "problem." And she couldn't be sure that I would be a good enough father for her blessed offspring." He clenched his fists, the anger fighting to surface once more. "I just wish I could make her feel my pain right now."

"Because you didn't do that enough while you were alive," Trish accused, standing and stuffing her hands into her pockets.

Before she reached the door, Dave was on his feet, fists at his sides. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" When she turned, he narrowed his eyes further. "This is my fault now? She didn't even tell me!"

With a slight shrug, Trish gathered her courage and said what needed to be said. "Dave, you're the first to admit that you didn't treat her the way you should have when you were alive," she started. He shot her a look that said she should mind her own business, but as far as Trish was concerned, he had invited her into the center of all things Courtney when he asked her to help. "I'm sure it wasn't an easy decision. And I'm sure your habit didn't make it any easier," she added.

"I had my vices," Dave started.

But Eddie interrupted. "What you had, Homes, was an addiction. Not a vice, not a demon, not a problem. An addiction." He stood and faced Dave with a look of defiance. "You can't see things her way because you can't admit that your addiction took over your life. As much as you loved your wife, man, and I don't doubt that concept for a second, you loved the powder more."

Hanging his head, Dave sank to the couch again. What good was an argument? They would just gang up on him anyway. And he knew they were right. He did have an addiction – one that had cost him his own life. But it didn't make the news of Courtney's secret any easier to swallow. "She should have told me," he whispered through gritted teeth.

Turning from the door, Trish walked back around to Dave and sat next to him on the couch. "Are you more pissed that she terminated the pregnancy? Or that she didn't tell you about it?" After an awkward silence, she put a hand on his knee. "Or is it that she told Nitro about it?"

Dave's glare was hard when he met Trish's eye. "Are you saying I'm jealous of that motherfucker?" When neither Eddie nor Trish answered, he scoffed and stood again. "I am not jealous! Why the fuck would I be jealous of him? He's a nobody. He wears thrift store clothes and probably smells like the Village." With another laugh, he cracked his knuckles. "He barely has a job."

"Yeah, but he has your wife," Eddie pointed out. When Dave instinctively took a step in his direction, Eddie shrugged his shoulders. "What are you gonna do, Homes? Hit me?" When Dave relaxed his stance, Eddie smiled. "Look, Dave, it's not easy. But if Courtney is willing to open up to this guy, maybe that means he's okay. I mean, if you think about it, it's not so different than when she took a chance on your coked-up, co-dependent ass."

Dave growled again. "That kid is nothing like me," he insisted.

As Trish leaned forward on the couch, her arms resting on her knees and her hands clasped before her, she gazed up at Dave with a penetrating stare. "That's the problem, isn't it?"