Chapter 5

Tuesday, December 10th, 1985

Hill Valley

3: 06 P. M.

"Hold this, please."

Marty grabbed hold of the pipe as Doc reached for a wrench. They were both currently under the DeLorean, making repairs. Doc had found that the gas tank was starting to crack, and was in the process of re-attaching everything.

"Doc, you sure you emptied the tank?" Marty said, looking back at the mess of wires and tubes under the car.

"Great Scott, Marty, how many times do I have to say 'yes' before you're satisfied? The tank is completely empty. Not even fumes."

"I wouldn't be worrying if it was fumes."

"That's when you should worry. It's the fumes from gasoline that cause explosions. Gasoline itself just burns." Marty's eyes went wide. "But I assure you once more, Marty, the tank is completely empty."

"It had better be. Mom and Dad will kill you if you blow me up."

"They'd be spared that necessity. I'd blow myself up in the process. There wouldn't be anything to kill." Doc tightened something unseen with the wrench. "There! One fixed gas tank!"

Marty crawled out from under the car. "How do you know if you fixed it right or not?"

"I intend to allow a licensed professional to examine it after I submit it to a practical test."

"You mean drive it down to the gas station and let somebody there check it over."

"Precisely."

"Which you could have done in the first place," Marty noted with a grin.

"Well, yes, but this way was safer and faster. DeLorean parts are already rare. I should get used to making field repairs. Besides, we can't have my additions to the car being looked at too closely. As long as people keep at a distance, I can use the cover story of testing new inventions on this thing with little fear."

"You got me on that one, Doc. Why do you think the tank was cracking, anyway?"

"I suspect the subzero temperatures encountered during temporal displacement. I'll have to figure out a way to shield the more delicate parts of the car."

Someone knocked on the door. "Honey?"

"Mystie!" Doc happily went to greet her. "I don't usually see you up this early."

Mystie shrugged. "Insomnia. The bane of my life." They kissed. "I came to see you about our living arrangements. Would you be more comfortable if we didn't share space until after we're man and wife?"

"I'm not that grounded in my formal upbringing. I would enjoy it very much if you moved in with me."

"Wonderful! I use a few vacation days and start moving next week, how's that?"

"Absolutely perfect," Doc smiled.

Mysteria's matching smile lessened a little. "I also have to tell you something next week," she added in a softer voice. "I don't want to tell you right now, because I have no idea how to put it. So when I'm moved in, I'll give you the full dirt about me."

"I will too," Doc said, remembering the Libyans with shame. He was very glad that they had been caught and charged with terrorist activities. As long as they were around, he had been terrified for his friends' safety. "We'll make a day of it." Mystie's smile returned in full.

The phone rang, startling them all. Doc grabbed it from it's latest position on the couch. "Dr. Brown here." He sighed. "Yes, Tannen, I will show up tonight. No, I didn't forget. Yes, I understand. Goodbye."

"What was that all about?" Mystie asked as Doc hung up.

"Oh, it was that damn Biff again. He's expecting my presence at his residence at six o'clock tonight."

"Why would you even want to go over there?" Marty said, making a face. "I have a hard enough time dealing with him when he waxes Dad's car."

"For some reason, Biff refuses to let go of the notion that I read his diary. He wants to explain whatever it was he wrote inside it. He was acting so frightened that I agreed to meet him. No big deal."

Mystie frowned, touching her upper lip to her nose briefly. "I dunno, Emmett. Maybe Biff is trying to trick you. There might be something in that diary he'd want to keep a secret so desperately he'd be willing to kill for it. Besides, he's not the most pleasant person to be around."

"What could Biff have written that would require a murder?" Doc scoffed.

"Doc, this is the same guy that tried to rape my Mom," Marty pointed out, shivering a little as he recalled it. "I wouldn't put it past him to kill somebody he didn't like."

"I don't think you should go," Mystie nodded, her eyes wide with worry. "I would hate for anything to happen to you."

Doc shrugged. "I appreciate your opinions, but I think you're over-reacting. Biff is not exactly a role model, but even I can't imagine him murdering someone in cold blood over a secret. And I also firmly believe that, if he was capable of doing that, he wouldn't kill me. People would notice if I went missing. It would be too silent around here. I'm fairly sure I'm safe."

Mysteria and Marty glanced at each other uneasily. "I'm not convinced, Doc. I'm with Mystie on this -- you shouldn't go."

Doc felt their worry starting to infect him. He shook it off. "I'll call both of you as soon as I leave, how's that? Then you'll know I'm safe and sound."

"Okay," Marty and Mystie reluctantly agreed, understanding that nothing was going to change Doc's mind. "But I don't see why you have to be so stubborn," Marty added.

"It's best to just get this over with," Doc said. "Part of me is also worried the consequences could be worse if I didn't show up. You wouldn't want him tracking me to the house."

"No." Mystie pecked him on the cheek. "Be careful."

"I will. I promise."

Tuesday, December 10th

5: 45 P. M.

Doc pulled up to Biff's door precisely 15 minutes ahead of schedule. The door was slightly ajar, which surprised Doc for a moment. Biff's neighborhood wasn't the best, meaning an open door was an invitation to thieves. He dismissed it as a bit of stupidity and entered the house. Biff was no where in sight, but Doc had the distinct feeling he was being watched. He looked around, but didn't see anyone. He hasn't set up a hidden camera to film us, has he? Doc wondered, confused. "Hello? Biff?"

There was no answer. "For someone who was so paranoid, he's being awfully lax," Doc muttered. With a sigh, he decided to search the house for some sign of Biff.

Tuesday, December 10th

10: 49 P. M.

Ahh, what a beautiful night.

Mystie smiled down at Hill Valley, taking in the sights, sounds and smells early. She had to admit, she had grown quite fond of this little town in the heart of Southern California. Missouri had been okay, but she much preferred the warmth and friendliness of Hill Valley. And it had provided her with a potential husband! True, she had no idea how long they would remain engaged once she told him the truth, but she planned to enjoy it for as long as she could.

As she soared over the Town Square, she noticed a man stumbling into the parking lot, holding his stomach. Probably a drunk, she thought idly, ready to dismiss him. But then she caught a whiff of his distinctive scent. Hold on. Is that Dom Pierre? Aged to perfection?

OH MY GOD, IT'S EMMETT!!

She swooped down and landed as silently as she could behind him. He was in a miserable state, covered in cuts and bruises. Every time he inhaled, he winced and moaned. There was also a pair of puncture marks on his neck. Vampire bite. He's been attacked by a soulless. My poor Emmett. "Emmett!" she yelled, running up to him.

Doc panicked upon hearing her voice, falling to his knees. "No! Don't hurt me!" he begged of a nearby park bench, cowering before it. "Don't hurt me!" He lurched forward abruptly and vomited. "Somebody help. . . ."

"No, Emmett, over here! It's me, Mysteria! Myst!"

"What mist?" Doc mumbled, looking around thickly. "I don't see a mist. . . ."

Mystie knelt by him, turning his head. "Mysteria, honey. Your fiancee."

After a moment, Doc recognized her. He clung to her dress weakly. "Help me, Mystie. Help me. I feel so awful."

"Shh, don't worry. I'll help you." She sniffed his wounds. He was infected with the vampire taint. "My poor Emmett." She gently picked him up, wincing as he moaned again. "Don't worry. I'll take you home with me and get you cleaned up. Okay?"

Doc nodded, closing his eyes. "I feel very sick," he whispered.

"I know, baby, I know."

"In fact--" Doc vomited again, all over himself. Mystie used the sleeve of her shirt to wipe it away. "Thank you," he whispered.

"No problem." She spread her wings and took to the air.

Doc screamed as the ground receded. "Help! I'm being kidnaped!"

"No you're not. Calm down." She applied a bit of hypnotic pressure to strengthen her command. "Trust me. Nothing's going to happen to you."

Doc relaxed a little. "Hi Mystie," he greeted her.

"Hello there." She kissed him. "I love you."

"I love you too. But how did we get into the air?"

"Don't worry your head about that. Just relax and enjoy the ride."

"Okay."

Getting into her apartment through the window while carrying Doc was hard, but she didn't want to attract attention by taking him through the normal entrance. She managed to maneuver herself inside without bumping Doc. Doc was delusional again by this point, talking to someone only he could see. Mystie set her beloved on the couch, still chatting animatedly, and went to get her first-aid kit. She carefully cleaned and dressed his wounds, apologizing profusely whenever she inadvertently hurt him. Doc vomited twice more, held her for a few moments, then attempted a conversation with her lamp. "He's very rude," he told her when the lamp wouldn't answer him.

Mystie smothered a laugh. "He's usually like that. Don't take it personally," she informed him. "Do you think you could drink something?"

"You decide. I have no idea anymore."

She patted his head. "I'll make you some tea then." In the kitchen, she cut her hand with a knife and "flavored" the tea with her blood. "There you are." She lifted his head and poured it down his throat for him. Doc coughed, but managed to swallow it. "Now," she said, making him look into her eyes, "what happened?"

"I can't remember," Doc confessed.

"Try," she said, exerting her will over him. "Try for me."

Doc started to enter a trance state. "I -- I went--"

His face became agitated. "Don't make me remember," he begged. "Please don't make me remember. It hurts too much."

The pure terror on his features convince Mystie the regression attempt wasn't worth it. "Okay, you don't have to remember." Doc visibly relaxed. "I want you to sleep instead. Sleep so you can heal your wounds."

"Sleep?"

"Yes, sleep. You're tired, Emmett. You want to sleep and get better. You want to sleep so you can heal."

"Sleep," Doc repeated, his voice going dull. "Heal. . . ."

"That's right. You need to rest, Emmett. Rest. Close your eyes and sleep."

Doc's eyes closed, and his body went limp. Mysteria stayed by his side, checking his wounds to make sure they healed. Doc's heartbeat echoed itself feebly in her chest. She knew the trauma of being changed would destroy this fragile blood-link. I so wish I could keep this alive. I love the feeling of connectedness I have with him now. My darling Emmett, why did this have to happen to you?

The night ticked on. Mystie fed Doc more of her blood and soothed him back to sleep whenever he awoke. His fractured thoughts revealed violent delusions and nightmares which were hard to banish. Often all she could do was hold her beloved as they cried together.

Finally, at around midnight, Doc's breathing began to slow. He whimpered, afraid. "Don't worry, Emmett," she told him for the millionth time that night. "Go back to sleep. You're safe now."

"Promise?" he whispered, his eyes unfocused and half-open.

"Promise." She kissed him. "I love you."

Love you, Doc thought right before he slipped completely into the coma. His breathing and heartbeat slowed practically to a standstill. To any human observer, Doc was obviously dead. To any vampire observer, however. . . .

Mystie covered him with a blanket and went over to the phone. That had to be the worst experience of my life, she thought. I never thought I'd have to watch Emmett suffer like that. I didn't even know there were soulless vampires here in Hill Valley. If I ever meet the bastard who did that to my fiancee. . . . Her eyes narrowed and lightened in anger. Well, I doubt there'll be much left of him. At least now I don't have to worry about Emmett accepting me as a vampire. Now I have to worry about him accepting that he's a vampire. And Marty accepting--

SHIT! I didn't even think of the McFlys! Oh, Jesus, Marty's going to be devastated. How can I tell him that his best friend is dead? Even if he's only going to be "dead" for three days. . . . I'll have to make sure they don't embalm him. Maybe I can even convince George not to bury him. It's worth a shot, for Emmett's sake.

With a sigh, she dialed the police. As she waited for the receptionist to pick up, she glance over at the comatose Doc. "Sleep well, my love," she whispered. "Hello, Hill Valley police station? Something terrible's just happened in my apartment. . . ."

The End