Chapter Twenty-Three

David's eyes shot open and he gasped when he was hit with a flare of white hot pain causing colourful dots to dance in front of his eyes, distorting his vision. He grit his teeth as the pain heightened, his chest feeling as though he were being stabbed with a thousand hot needles. "Fuck!" he hissed through panting growls as he clawed at his chest in a bid to find the source of his agony. His hand hit something hard, the resulting flare of pain strong enough to momentarily paralyse him as flashbacks of what lead to his torture flickered to life in his mind.

He remembered being woken by the sound of his brother's agonised screams only for his own to join the chorus of anguish when Alan's face hovered above him moments before he drove a dagger into his chest...

"Shit," David croaked, once again blindly clawing at his chest, grasping at the handle of the dagger that was embedded firmly in his chest, inches away from his heart. He exhaled sharply, bracing himself for the pain he knew was about to hit him full force as he pried the dagger from his ribcage with trembling fingers, roaring as white hot pain rocketed full-circuit throughout his body, leaving him feeling as though he was being torn apart at the seams. He grit his teeth hard enough that he was surprised they didn't crack and crumble from the force as he yanked out the blade with one last forceful tug.

David rolled onto his stomach, bracing his forearms against the cold stone, his forehead resting against his wrist as he panted, riding out the torture that was slowly starting to fade. Once the physical pain had finally abated, he was suddenly overwhelmed with a bout of mental agony, knowing that it was a good job that he was already on the floor because the realisation that he'd likely lost the only family he had would have ripped the feet out from beneath him. He flopped onto his back, covering his face with his hands as a he spiralled into an ice-cold panic, the notion of losing his pack enough to make him want to vomit.

They'd died divided, the animosity and anger between them unresolved.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, he should have cleared the air, he should have taken his head out of his ass and put the best interests of his pack first. He should have made sure they were on their guard, that they were prepared for the fight he'd known was coming. Yet instead he'd let his rage cloud his judgement, he'd let his own hurt come between their bond.

They were gone and he was alone.

Again...

Pushing down the panic making his chest feel tight, David sighed wearily and pushed himself to his feet, making his way out into the dirt tunnel leading to the main cavern, a lump forming in his throat when he passed Dwayne's room finding his lifeless body sprawled on an old, grubby mattress in a pool of his own congealed blood, his skin blistered and scarred, the blunt end of a stake protruding from his chest. David swallowed, turning away from the sight that made his core ache only to find himself once again struggling to keep his composure when he almost tripped on Marko's stone cold corpse a few feet down the tunnel. David ran shaking fingers through his hair and exhaled, forcing himself to keep moving while internally preparing himself for what he might find in the main cavern.

He stepped out into the main cavern, the dead silence stifling as his eyes roamed the macabre scene before him. Two mutilated corpses lay in the middle of the floor, a sense of relief washing over him when on closer inspection he found them to be the remains of Edgar and Alan. It was nothing the two dipshits didn't deserve, in fact he hoped they suffered the way he knew his brother's suffered and if when his time on earth came to an end and he found himself relegated to hell, he'd find the two assholes and kill them all over again. David turned his attention to the alcove finding the bed empty, a pile of blood stained blankets the only evidence to the possibility that Paul and Flick were injured in the fight. Where were their bodies? Did they make it out alive?

"Paul? Flick?" he hollered into the ether only to be met by a heavy silence.

Knowing that he couldn't just sit around and do nothing, he rummaged through the crates of forgotten crap they'd accumulated over the years, digging out an old, rusting shovel from beneath a pile of grease-stained rags. Dwayne and Marko deserved a burial, so did Paul and Flick if he ever found their bodies, it was the least he could do. He might not have always shown them how much he cared during their time alive but he silently vowed that he'd show them respect in death...

Paul's eyes slowly fluttered open and he found himself staring at the rocky ceiling of an unfamiliar cavern, the shadowed crevices covered with thick patches of moss. The air smelt damp and earthy while the sound of dripping water echoed in the silence. As the fog of sleep started to clear he quickly realised that he was floating and that his clothes felt heavy and cold, he felt wet.

Paul frowned and sat upright, coughing and spluttering when the action resulted in him swallowing a mouthful of water. "What the fuck," he choked as he looked around him, finding himself straddling water in some kind of pool. He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes and combed his fingers through his drenched hair trying to remember how the hell he ended up there.

Out of the blue he was hit with a flood of memories, memories that made his stomach twist. He remembered that he'd survived while his brother's had been taken out by three dumb fucking kids. He remembered cornering Flick's brother Sam, ready to avenge his lost brothers only for his world to be turned upside down when he felt like his whole body had been dipped in molten lava.

His head snapped up, finding Flick sat on the side of the pool staring back at him with haunted eyes. "You're still here? I thought you might have gone on the run with the little bitch of a brother you betrayed me for," he hissed angrily as he launched himself out of the water.

"Paul I'm so sorry I-" she hauled herself to her feet, jogging to catch up to him as he strode toward the opening leading out into a dark, dirt tunnel.

"-Save your bullshit. You chose him over me, over us, over the pack!" he yelled.

"I didn't I swear-" she implored, grabbing his wrist, "-Sam saved me Paul, if it wasn't for him then I wouldn't be standing here now and neither would you. I owed him for that at least, didn't I?"

"No-" Paul spat, "-you didn't owe him shit. He killed my brothers, my friends, our family, the family that took you in and cared for you when your own blood turned their backs on you and you let him walk away."

"Sam never turned his back on me Paul – he wanted to save me! I told him that I didn't need saving, that it was my choice. It was Edgar and Alan that pushed him into it, he'd never have known how to handle the situation without those two pulling the strings. He was their puppet, I was just the excuse they needed! He didn't deserve to die..."

"But the boys did? Is that what your saying?" Paul countered, his voice strained with hurt.

"No that's not what I'm saying. No-one deserved to die."

"Fuck off," he growled, shoving her back.

"You don't just get to tell me to fuck off, we need to talk through this, there's only us now, we can't turn on each other."

"I can tell you what the fuck I like-" Paul snarled, "- in fact fuck you and while you're out there fucking yourself, you might as well fuck off while your at it," he added, making a move to push her out of the way. "Move," he growled, shouldering past her.

Paul was caught off guard when Flick grabbed him by the collar of his jacket and yanked him backward, using all her strength to twist his body and slam him back against the wall. "Listen to me you emotionally retarded fuck," she growled, pinning him by his chest.

Too blinded by grief, Paul matched her aggression right back, hammering her against the opposite wall, his hands wrapping around her throat. He wasn't purposely trying to hurt and no matter how angry he was in that moment he knew he never could, he just wanted to get his point across. "You just don't know when to shut the fuck up, do you?" he snarled.

Flick raised her leg, taking advantage of the gap he'd left between their bodies and managed to get her foot on his hip, kicking him backwards causing him to slam against the wall with a heavy thud. "You need to learn to fucking listen," she retorted angrily.

"And I suppose you're gonna be the one to teach me a lesson and make me listen, am I right?" he scoffed and Flick screamed in frustration while Paul chuckled wickedly. "Cute."

"Don't fucking patronise me you asshole, you're so fucking frustrating sometimes. I want to wipe that smug fucking smile of your dumb face!" she yelled.

"Go ahead, I dare you..."

Instead of punching him in the face like he could see she wanted to judging by the fire burning in her eyes, Flick punched the wall, cracking the stone down the middle from the force of the blow. He heard the skin on her knuckles rip and when she pulled her hand back, he saw she'd left a bloody knuckle print behind as blood dripped from the back of her hand. The sight of the blood dripping between her fingers brought back memories of her tortured screams along with the stake that had very nearly ended up lodged in her heart.

He'd almost lost her...

"What the fuck did you do that for?" he growled, instinctively grabbing her wrist to inspect her hand.

Flick angrily tore her arm out of his reach. "Because as much as I want to right now, I can't hit you."

"Why the fuck not? You'd rather tear your knuckles to shreds instead?"

"Yeah I would-" she swallowed as her eyes misted with tears, "-because despite what you think of me right now, I don't want to hurt you."

"What makes you fucking think it would hurt? A little full of yourself, don't you think?" he countered haughtily.

Flick screamed, throwing her hands in the air with exasperation. "Do you really think you're the only one who lost something tonight? Do you really think the decisions I made were easy? You don't know how hard it was for me to be the cause of your pain, to see you in such agony and knowing I was to blame. Do you think I saved Sam so that I can continue playing big sister because let me tell you asshole, I chose you over my family. I killed my own fucking brother to make what we have official. You're my everything Paul, you're my world, you're all I have, I just couldn't bring myself to let Sam suffer because of me. He was the only one who ever gave a shit about me. He might have been an asshole on occasion but I loved him Paul-" she sniffed, "-but I guess there's not point trying to talk to a guy with the emotional capacity of a fucking doorknob!" she exclaimed before turning her back on him and walking away.

Paul pinched the bridge of his nose pushing back the wave of emotion he could feel bubbling in his chest, scared that if he actually acknowledged it rather than focusing on the anger and finding someone to blame that the hurt would overwhelm him and it would never stop. He'd lost his family. He'd lost his best friends. He'd almost lost the woman he loved and the thought alone was enough to break him, he didn't know how to handle everything he was feeling and he was taking it out on the one person he had left.

He sighed wearily, reaching out to gently grab her arm and drew her back, turning her so they were once again face to face finding the fire in her eyes had extinguished leaving only the glossy mist of tears and sorrow. "I'm sorry Flick, I just don't know what the fuck to do, I'm so fucking angry-" he exhaled, swallowing thickly, "-it hurts so fucking much," he whispered.

The tears pooling in her eyes spilled over, silently rolling down her ashen cheeks. "It's all my fault, I'm so sorry."

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight against him and breathed in the scent of her, kissing her crown. "It's not your fault baby, we knew it was coming and instead of listening to David we got cocky and left ourselves open. No wonder he hated us... I just wish I got a chance to tell him how grateful I was for everything he did for us... but he fucking died thinking I hate him."

He buried his face against the crook of her neck, guilt, hurt and shame making his chest feel overly tight.

"I'm so sorry," she sobbed, clinging to him desperately.

"Sshh, it's OK baby, I understand why you did what you did as much as it hurts..."

"I don't wanna go out there, I don't wanna see it," she whispered and Paul's stomach lurched.

"Me neither-" he admitted, "-but I can't leave them like that, they deserve a burial or something..."

"Yeah, you're right," Flick nodded, exhaling a shaky breath as she wiped her eyes and followed him out of the cavern.

Paul frowned as the two of them stepped out of the underground network into the tunnel leading to the main cavern finding it devoid of the carnage he'd been expecting. "I don't understand, Marko... he was right there..." Flick whispered, pointing toward the door to the bathroom.

"They can't have just disappeared," Paul's frown deepened, his confusion growing. He ushered Flick in the direction of the main cavern, startled by the throbbing pulse in his core as he sensed they weren't alone, the presence familiar. Hope soared in his chest as he quickened his stride, practically dragging Flick behind him as he made a bee-line for the main cavern, the pulse in his core growing stronger. He stepped out into the cavern, his eyes widening in disbelief when he found David slumped on the couch, his hands, face and clothes covered in a thick dusting of dirt as he burned his way through a cigarette.

"David?" Paul croaked and David's head snapped up, his expression one of complete shock as he slowly rose to his feet while Flick came to a jerky stop beside him.

"I thought you were-" David shook his head, unwilling to finish the thought, "-look I'll leave OK? I know I'm not the one you wanted to find out here."

"Actually you are," Paul countered awkwardly.

"I don't understand," David's brows furrowed, bewildered.

"I'm sorry man. I'm sorry for what I said that night. I'm sorry for being such a fucking prick to you when all you've done is cover my ass this whole time. You're the one that kept us in line, you're the one that warned us to be on our guard and we basically laughed in your face and now look at us-" Paul swallowed around the lump of emotion lodged in his throat, "-you need to know that Dwayne, Marko and Flick chewed my ass out for what I said to you that night. They cared about you as much as I do but we were just dicks who preferred to take the piss rather than show it and I'm sorry we made you feel so shit about yourself because the truth is that you're a better friend to us than any of us were to you."

"I thought you'd all died thinking I hated you," David stated, combing dirty fingers through his dishevelled hair.

"Ah fuck this," Paul sighed, crossing the cavern and yanked David into a brotherly embrace, steeling himself against the torrent of emotion that hit him in wave after wave.

Flick stood back, her stomach twisting with guilt as she watched Paul and David embrace, the two friends re-united in their grief. Grief that she'd caused... The two friends parted, turning their attention to her and she averted her eyes, unable to look either of them in the eyes. "I know you blame yourself Felicity," David broke the stifling silence that had fallen over them and she stared down at her bare feet, focusing on the build up of dirt between her toes.

"I let him go-" she murmured, wiping at her leaking eyes with the sleeve of her torn shirt, "-I let him go even though I knew he'd helped kill Dwayne and Marko and at the time – you too."

Her breath hitched.

"Though your brother was complicit in what happened, he wasn't necessarily to blame. He was a pawn in a game of chess we'd been playing with Edgar and Alan long before you arrived in Santa Carla. Those two leeches used your brother's love for you to their advantage. I can't say that I ever want to be left alone with your brother after having to bury two people I considered my brother's but I do understand why you did what you did. Sam wasn't Michael, your bond was deeper."

"You don't hate me?" she stammered, finding the courage to look him in the eyes.

"I won't lie, I wanted to-" he frowned, "-but I know that I would have done the same if I was in your position."

"No, you would have killed him yourself or you wouldn't have stood in the way of letting someone else do it. You don't have to spare my feelings."

"Since when did I ever spare anyone's feelings?" David's lips quirked in the ghost of a smirk.

Sam tugged at the collar of his shirt that clung to his sweat-slick skin as he paced the bus station platform, anxiously tugging at his hair as he nervously awaited the next greyhound out of town. He couldn't stay in Santa Carla, not after what he'd done and what he knew. How could he see his sister every day knowing what she was? How was he supposed to live his life constantly looking over his shoulder waiting for the night that Flick's boyfriend finally got his revenge and tore him apart?

He'd tried and failed to get his mother on side. He'd practically begged her to leave with him but she was adamant that she needed to stay in Santa Carla in case Michael came home or in case he called. As he'd stood there in the middle of the lounge, the tracks of his tears staining his cheeks as he'd spilled his heart out only to be dismissed in favour of his brother who he knew deep down was never coming home, he'd come to the realisation that he was truly alone.

While his mom and dad had called around family and friends back in Phoenix in a bid to track down the son they'd never find no matter how hard they looked, Sam had made a call of his own, securing himself a safe place to stay with his aunt back in Phoenix before emptying the old tattered shoebox he kept the stash of cash he'd managed weasel out of his parents during their divorce with well-timed guilt-trips. He'd intended to use it to buy himself a couple of pristine first edition comics to add to his collection but using it to procure a ticket to get the hell out of dodge seemed like less of a waste.

Sam glanced over his shoulder for what felt like the thousandth time, gripping the straps of his backpack as he backed himself against the nearest wall, unwilling to leave himself open to a sneak attack. He leant back against the graffiti covered concrete as he started to succumb to his exhaustion, unable to keep himself alert as he closed his eyes, exhaling a weary sigh.

The sound of the rumbling approach of an engine followed by a blast of hot, acrid air from a rusting exhaust brought him back to the present as the greyhound came to a shuddering, hissing stop at the side of the platform. He fished out the crumpled ticket from the pocket of his jeans and joined the bustling crowd shuffling their way onto the coach. Sam sagged into an empty seat at the back of the bus, setting his backpack beside him on the faded leather seat and leant his head against the cool surface of the window, watching the last lonely stragglers boarding the bus as he struggled to keep himself awake.

Sam felt his eyes grow heavy, feeling his body start to relax as the prospect of making it out of Santa Carla alive became evermore believable as the doors to the coach slid closed behind the last sun-kissed traveller. As the engine once again roared to life he was suddenly overcome with the feeling of being watched. He sat bolt upright in his seat, scanning the coach for anyone or anything that looked out of place but couldn't see anything amiss. His eyes drifted to the street outside and his heart leapt into his throat when his eyes landed on three familiar figures standing beneath the dim, yellow glow of a street light.

His eyes darted from the wild mane of dirty blonde hair to the mess of platinum blonde, unable to comprehend how David had survived the dagger Alan had drove into his chest before finally settling on a waterfall of chocolate waves. Flick raised her hand, the ghost of a smile lifting the corner of her mouth, her eyes flickering with sorrow as she waved and Sam pressed his hand against the window, wishing he could reach out and grab her, take her with him and figure out a way to bring her back to life but he knew that wasn't what she wanted. She'd been sincere when she'd told him she'd chosen that life herself, she hadn't been tricked or coerced into it like he'd thought or like Edgar and Alan had made him believe.

'Bye Sam – stay safe,' his sister's voice resounded in his mind and his eyes widened in shock.

His eyes stayed glued to the three immortals as the coach slowly peeled away from the platform until they were nothing but blurry silhouettes in the reflection of the glass.

'I love you baby brother,' his sister's voice once again echoed in his mind and he finally allowed himself to fall apart.

The hot water drummed against his sore skin and he sighed, closing his eyes, his head hanging low towards his chest. It had been an emotionally fucked night and he felt both physically and mentally drained. Grief was taking it's toll on both him and David, he could see it in the desolate look that had taken residence in his eyes and the way his shoulders sagged, his stature no longer imposing and confident but reduced to the weary slump of survival. Paul could feel that something within him had died along with Marko and Dwayne, something that would take time to heal and recover from despite him insisting that he was OK.

Paul shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, almost jumping out of his skin when he found Flick silently perched on the edge of the sink, a clean towel draped over her lap. "Sheesh babe, you scared the shit outta me," he exhaled sharply, accepting the towel she held out in his direction. "What're you doing sitting there, you stalker," he attempted levity but the joke fell flat, his heart not in it.

The way he felt in that moment, he didn't know whether he'd ever laugh again...

"You were taking too long..." she mumbled and he frowned at the way her voice wavered as he tied the towel around his waist before heading out of the bathroom with Flick clinging to his arm.

He stepped into the alcove and immediately Flick was clinging to him like a spider-monkey. "Babe you're gonna need to let me go so I can get dressed," he stated softly, stroking his hand through her hair.

With an air of reluctance, Flick released him from her hold and he quickly got himself dried and into some clean clothes. However the minute he was dressed, she was on him like a rash, leaving his stomach twisting when he felt his shirt grow wet beneath where her face was buried. Paul gently pulled her down onto the bed and swept her up into his arms, pulling her into his lap and cradled her against his chest, "Babe what's wrong? You're hanging onto me like you think I'm gonna disappear – I'm not going anywhere. Do you think I'm gonna to do a fucking runner or something?"

Flick shook her head and sniffled, her sobs coming in heaving, shuddering breaths. "Then what's wrong?" he sighed, resting his chin on her crown.

She slowly exhaled, as if she was trying to pull herself back together before she pulled back and met his eyes. "I…" she descended into another fit of tears, leaving her struggling to articulate herself.

"Ssshh… calm down babe…" he soothed, rubbing comforting circles on her back.

"No you don't understand-" Flick exclaimed, wiping at her eyes, "-I've never been more terrified in all my life, not even when those two assholes attacked me, not even when you told me what you really were... nothing compares to the terror I felt when I saw you paralysed in pain beside me with a stake buried inches away from your heart."

Paul's chest ached while his stomach tied itself in one huge, gnarled knot.

"And now-" she continued, fighting back her tears, "-now I feel like you're gonna just disappear, that you're gonna leave me alone and I can't cope Paul. I can't be me without you. I can't lose you Paul, the thought of losing you… I just can't…"

"I'm not going anywhere."

"You say that but only hours ago you were almost killed…"

"Babe look… I understand how you're feeling because I feel it too. You're forgetting that I woke up to find you with a fucking dagger in your side, screaming and writhing in pain. I also had to watch Edgar aim a fucking stake straight for your fucking heart and in that moment, the only thing I could think about was keeping you alive. I couldn't handle the thought of watching you die so I did the only thing I knew to do and that was to take that fucking stake for myself."

Flick covered her ears, rocking back and forth as she shook her head. "Stop, I can't fucking think about it, it's too much…" she wept.

Paul gently caught her hands in his, moving them down to her lap. "Flick I've said it before and I'll say it again, I'd fucking die for you."

"I don't want you to die," she sobbed.

"Babe I don't plan to and with the Frogs outta the picture, there shouldn't be any reason for you to think that there's even a possibility of it happening. I'm here now and I'll be here right by your side for the rest of eternity."

"I love you," she whispered, stroking her thumb across his jaw.

"I love you too Flick, so fucking much," he sighed, capturing her lips in a soft, tender kiss.