If Only I Could Dream
A/N: Last Chapter, FINALLY.
Disclaimer: All belong to JV.
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Chapter 12: White Lights
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Johnny was hesitant, reaching his hand out on the doorknob to young Squee's house, but couldn't find it in him to turn the doorknob. Was it fear that stopped him? The fear that if the boy's parents were, in fact, alive, that he would end up killing them?
He glanced at Squee for the umpteenth time, the child's gaze on the door, that ever-present fear of his own still flowing alive in his large eyes. He was shivering visibly, tears ready to stream down his flushed cheeks.
He doesn't know his parents are supposed to brought back to life, Johnny thought to himself. He's scared of finding those bodies in there again. He's scared of seeing his parents dead, beneath all that blood. What if they're fighting…will I kill them? God, what if I'm still fucked…split up into two, or however many, people? Well, I guess if that were true, I would've tried to kill Squee by now…Shit, I'm stalling."
He gulped and twisted the knob, watching as the door creaked open. It was so strange; the air that flowed out from the house was clean, pure, wonderful to breath. Not at all what Johnny had expected. Even if Senor Diablo had reinstated the boy's parents back to life, shouldn't the stench of blood and death come oozing out of the house as if it were slime?
"Maybe you should wait here," he whispered, not looking at Squee. He cold only focus on the house. The entrance was so dark and dead; the entire house appeared lifeless. "Maybe you should wait right here, outside, where it's safe…" he repeated, not even knowing that he had done so.
Squee gripped his hand again, closing his eyes tightly, and replying, "Don't leave me alone, please…I can go in…I'll just…stay away from the kitchen."
Johnny looked skeptical, but only sighed of slight frustration and guided his young companion into the house.
"I told you, I fucking told you, to make sure they remained unconscious when we brought them back! Jesus, this is the third time we have to bring 'em back to life now, because you're stupid. Who's going to clean up all this fucking blood?"
"If ya hadn't made it a point to make yourself get seen by them, we wouldn't have had a problem!"
"Oh, and I suppose it was a brilliant plan to blow their heads off simply to avoid being seen by them!"
"Listen, I'm not fucking God, ya know! I can't wipe memories away, you prat!"
Johnny continued to listen in on the current conversation. As far as he could tell, there were three beings arguing about in the kitchen, over what, he could only guess, were Squee's parents.
Cautiously, he peered around the corner into the kitchen, doing his best not to be seen by who-or whatever had ventured in. He pulled from the back of his pants one of those lovely knives that Satan had handed just before he left, and raised it up.
He leapt out, holding the knife above his head. His angered expression, however, was suddenly smacked off by a look of confusion and shock. The knife remained up, though the grip holding it was shaking. Not by fear….but by something else.
The three beings stared at him for a moment, stricken by silence, before one of them turned to the others and sneered at the two, "Oh look, he's fucking seen us. Are you going to blow off his head too?"
His rage was directed at the creature closest to what looked like the headless bodies of Squee's parents, holding a shotgun. He stood there, pushing two odd horns protruding out from his forehead back into his flesh, and suddenly aimed the gun at Johnny, a sort of pleasance flickering on his face. "Of course," he grinned.
"Stop stop stop," the third one growled, grabbing the weapon away from him. He turned to Johnny, a kind smile resting on his face, which the thin man realized was a bright shade of red. His flesh color was a weak crimson. "So sorry," the third replied. "You must be Johnny C. The Master told us you'd be arriving soon. We're just fixing up the bodies as he requested."
Johnny twitched, never lowering the knife. "You seem to be doing a fantastic job at it," he spat, trying to keep an eye on them all at once.
"Yes, well," the first one murmured., "As easy as it is," he suddenly bent forward, his tone raised in a yell, "bringing people back from the dead! I'm sorry, we're sooo slow. I mean, bad us. Bad demons. We should act more like the mortals and stop being lazy! We all know how easy it is for them to bring people back to fucking life!"
Johnny winced, annoyance clear in his eyes. "Listen," he groaned. "I'm sure you have a lot of work to get done, restoring dead people or whatever, so I'm going to let you do whatever it is you idiots do. I need those bastards alive as soon as possible."
"You were right," the shotgun-bearing demon whispered to his cohorts. "You're not God, but he sure thinks he is." The trio began snickering and Johnny sighed. With ease, he flung the knife forward into the air, watching as the blade collided with one of the demon's heads (he wasn't sure which one it was).
They stopped in their giggles, and began to go back to work. "Very well, Mr. Johnny," they remarked in unison. "Since you are Diablo's favorite…" More snickering ensued, but Johnny paid it no mind. He exited the kitchen, picking up Squee by the back of his shirt, and they headed up the steps to the child's room.
"Johnny," Squee sniffled as he sat down on the bed. "Who were those people? The ones in the kitchen? They sounded…scary… and why are we still at my house?"
Johnny sat down next to him, trying to bring comfort, though it was not something he was at all sure he could do. "Um, listen Squeegee. I was going to keep this as a surprise, but I'm not really all that good with that sort of thing so….Um…I guess, they're bringing you're parents back….from being dead."
Squee's eyes filled with a sudden happiness. So suddenly in fact that it sent Johnny falling backwards off the bed. The boy stood up on his bed, hugging himself and smiling with all the warmth he could muster. "Yay! My parents get to be alive again! Maybe this time they'll love me!"
Johnny crawled back on the bed, rubbing his sore scalp from the fall. "I wouldn't get my hopes up too high, Squee. I mean, just because they're gonna be alive again, doesn't mean-" he cut himself short. The happiness in the boy's face made him want to vomit with positive glory. Squee was never happy. How could Johnny deprive him of something that would be so short-lived anyway?
"Nevermind," he replied, lying down on the bed, his legs and head dangling off of the side. Squee sat down next him, looking at him in awe and wonder.
"Are you better now, Mr. Johnny?" he asked, somewhat cautiously.
Johnny thought for a moment. "Well, I haven't tried to kill you yet. That's a pretty decent sign if you ask me, Squee. God, I feel so tired now. Must be all that running around we did. " He felt himself yawn, and the all-too familiar feeling of exhaustion took over. He tried to fight it off, but it became stronger and stronger, beating against him relentlessly as if he were the victim in a one-sided fight.
"I don't hear any more arguing and shotgun noises." Squee's voice sounded distant. "Maybe Mommy and Daddy are alive now…"
Johnny felt his eyelids drop. "Uh huh…" he answered, not even realizing he had done so. He felt himself drift off, still fighting against it, trying to stay awake.
From downstairs, they could hear a faint noise; grunting, then the sound of mumbling, followed by a loud sharp yell. It went something like this:
"Holy SHIT! My head…! Where the hell did all this blood come from? Jesus!"
"Wha-What's going on?"
"Dammit, did you do this, woman? This place is a mess. Its probably Squee's fault."
"Who?"
Johnny rolled his eyes. He supposed that he should probably be leaving, but there was no real danger. It was highly unlikely that Squee's dad would come upstairs, what with his 'hatred' of the kid. So Johnny lay there, unable to move from exhaustion.
Then he remembered. There was something he needed to do. Something that needed to be said and done, so that maybe, everything would get better. He sat up suddenly, not bothering to look at little Squee.
"What's wrong, Mr. Johnny?"
He didn't turn his head, too focused on what he wanted to say. He hadn't thought a while back that it would affect Squee a while back, when he first came home, but it felt like there was a sudden -attachment-. This feeling made him sick. Now, it seemed like Squee would be upset.
He'll just have to understand, Johnny thought, making a face. "Yeah, he just needs to get away from the sick things, like me. Maybe then, he might be able to lead a healthy, young, fearful life."
Squee eyed him strangely. "What? Who are you talking to?"
Johnny looked surprised, unaware that he had been thinking out loud. "How embarrassing," he mumbled, turning to face his neighbor. "I keep forgetting to keep my thoughts to myself," he replied. "Dreadful habit, talking to one's self. But I digress. Squee, I'm afraid…I have to leave."
Squee went bugged-eyed, his eyeballs nearly leaping out of his head, "What? Whuh-why? I mean, please don't go. I don't want you to go. You-you're the only thing that helps me be safe from Daddy, like when you hit him on the head with the robot toy, and -I really liked that toy- but I was really happy that you did it! Then Daddy couldn't yell at me and make me feel all bad and stuff! You can't go!"
"I have to, Squee," Johnny explained, standing up. He began to pace back and forth in front of the bed, trying to drive the information into the child's head. "Look, there's something wrong with people; people like me, and its something that can't be fixed when all you can do is the same thing over and over again, and that thing is what adds to your sickness. I thought I was something better when I returned back here, but its just gotten worse. My trying to kill you proves that. You're the last person I want to kill. And who's to say that it won't happen again?" He paused catching his breath and getting all of his thoughts together. He closed his eyes, not wanting to look at the target of his speech.
"I don't want to hurt you, Squeegee," he whispered. "so I have to go. I have to try and cleanse away some of the shit in my head. So that I don't tear you to pieces." He wanted to phrase that another way, but it just seemed so damn effective.
Squee hugged his knees to his chest, staring up at Johnny in a pout. "But…I need you."
"You don't need me," the thin man responded, sitting down next to him. "God, this is like some twisted Disney movie with all the Goddamned fluff." He sighed. "Look, you have Tequito-"
"Pepito," Squee corrected, sadly.
"Er, yeah, Pepito. He's the real friend. I'm just the crazy guy next door murdering people who both piss me off and deserve it," Johnny reminded. "Do you really want to be around someone who kills, with the possibility that it may end your life as well?"
"Why are you just thinking of yourself?" Squee suddenly blurted out. Johnny stared in shock. It wasn't like Squee Casil to say something like that.
"I'm not thinking of myself," he grunted, crossing his arms. "I'm thinking about your well-being."
"No, you're not," Squee shot back, quietly. He never raised his tone, not once, and perhaps that was what made it all the more unsettling to Johnny. "You're using that as a 'scuse. To justify leaving. You keep assuming that I don't want you around, Mr. Johnny, but I do. Even though you scare me sometimes, you're still nice to me, and I bet if you weren't so crazy and talking to imaginary things, you would be nice to the Devi-lady too."
Johnny turned red, embarrassed that such a young boy could hit the nail on the head with such ease. "Now, wait a minute. I am doing this for your own good. I might KILL you. Doesn't that mean anything to you? Do you want to die?"
Squee shook his head. "No, I don't wanna die, Mr. Johnny. But I don't want you to leave either. If you leave, I'll be all alone. With my parents. With my dad. But…I think I'd rather die then get hurt anymore by Daddy. Especially if he starts hitting me…"
Johnny sat there, lost in thought. He wanted so desperately to leave, to keep from hurting the ones he cared for. But if he left, Squee would still be in pain. All alone….with the bear. And the lies, and the abusive children and parents. Could he really deny someone so vulnerable?
The old Johnny would've said yes. He found himself so desperately wanting to go back to that. "Fuck, I'm going so damn soft…."
"Are you sure…." he asked, in a low tone. "Are you sure you want me to stay? Even if JOHNNY comes back? Once I decide to stay, I'm just going to keep killing people as often, if not more than I used to. You'll still hear the screams every night. And the explosions. And its not going to stop."
Squee smiled, giving the answer clearly on his face, and Johnny's tiny, black heart sunk. Squee didn't know what he was getting himself into when he first moved in, but it had scared him half to death. Now, he was intentionally having Johnny stay in that rickety shack next door. But at what costs?
Johnny forced a smile back at him, and laid back down on the bed again. The exhaustion coming back to haunt him. He stared up at the ceiling, feeling each and every time Squee moved around on the bed, and fought the sleep with everything he had.
"Wow, Shmee," Squee squealed in delight, holding the bear just inches away from his face. "Did you hear? Mr. Johnny's gonna stay and protect us against the bad people! What's that? No, he's not gonna kill me, silly. He protecting us, and everything is gonna get better! Maybe even no more nightmares. Isn't that right, Johnny?"
He was gone. Lost in a world full of hideous nightmares and fantasies, no doubt.
Squee watched him lie there peacefully, suddenly feeling very tired himself. He yawned, stretching out his arms and found himself sniggling into Johnny's side, curled into a little ball on the bed.
Just before the sleep came to eat him, he vaguely heard Johnny mumble in his sleep, but didn't have the energy to respond.
"I…gotta kill….Squee…"
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God, I think I feel something…a-a pounding or something…is-is that my heart? MY heart? Holy shit, I really am alive, aren't I? And-and I don't have any wounds, and-and I can't bleed…I'm fucking alive!!
He glanced around the room, slightly confused and panicked. It wasn't how he had remembered it; there were smiley faces on the walls were there should've been cracks and nails, bloodstains and stupid posters all over the place. The floor was carpeted nicely, though there were a few traces of blood that looked as if someone had actually tried to scrub them out, and just next to the stains sat a miniature broken robot, a small amount of dried blood sitting against it.
He realized then, that he was in a child's room. Wait a minute…OH FUCK! Satan fucked up and sent me to some fucking brat! I'm probably sitting in some fucking stuffed bear or something!! Oh, damn!! Damn him to Hell….or Heaven…? Yeah, Heaven! Satan hates Heaven!!
He heard a moan, then the rustling of a few blankets and scrambled to his side, seeing now where he truly was. Well, his first guess was right; he was indeed in a child's room, but the object of where he was contained was a bit off.
Johnny rolled over on the covers, Squee curled up next to his side, breathing steadily. The creature felt a loud shriek of glee exit his throat and he lunged at the sleeping man, stopping short suddenly when he saw his hands.
They were faded, dark, like a shadow of some sort. What was more was that he seemed to resemble someone else, at least from what he had seen of his arms. They were thinner, bony, and his fingers appeared claw-like.
What the hell am I? I'm all weird looking and fuzzy looking, like a blurry TV image or something…or like a shadow…
It hit him then, like a large brick to the skull.
"I'm a shadow…I'm Johnny's shadow.
He heard Johnny grunt suddenly, and almost tried to hide by complete impulse. It seemed almost just like old times again, when he was alive and hiding from someone, most times Johnny towards the later days before he died; but he remembered what he was and decided it would be best if he simply -stood- there.
Johnny sat up, rubbing at his skull angrily, and muttering simple curses about his sleep. "Dammit, I did it again…I must be getting soft or something….maybe I need more caffeine…damn me. Damn me to hell." He glanced sideways at Squee, and gently pulled the covers over the child, trying to hide his smile. "Fuck….I really have gone soft…I need to go out and create art…..or kill someone. Maybe some teenage brat…or a mime…I think I'll kill a mime."
"That's the spirit, Nny."
Johnny stood up suddenly, scanning the room and pulling out a knife. "Who's there? Show yourself or I'll have to hunt you down AND kill you. Do us both the favor and come out."
He tried to stand out in the darkness, ignoring the obvious predicament in his shadow-tone skin. "I'm right here, Nny. Look harder, or turn on the light. I'd put the knife away too. It won't do you any good, since when you see who I am, you won't want to kill me…and you can't anyway. I can't die."
Johnny listened as best he could to the voice, a cold shudder tracing up and down his back, raising the hairs on his neck. "That voice…it can't be possible…" Quickly, he edged towards the wall, and flicked the light switch on.
There under the light, stood his shadow. It was actually standing there, disconnected from his body, its features still visible beneath its obvious darkness.
Johnny shuddered again. Darkness. The Darkness. Fucking Darkness.
I also like being called "Darkness". Pretty cool huh?
"Juh-Jimmy…This isn't possible. It isn't fucking possible, for God-fucking sake…" Johnny stammered in disbelief. "I swear I killed you…I fucking tore your chest open!"
"Yeah," Jimmy giggled, advancing on the other man. "Good times, huh? I wasn't really happy about it at the time, ya know, with all the pain and death and stuff. But now! I guess I would've tried to enjoy it more if I had known that eventually I would get to be apart of you. Oh man, I know this is going to sound really cheesy, but I always knew we were, like, one person. And it's great! At this rate, we'll be together, forever!"
It must've been a dream. Yes, he was dreaming…that's what it had to be. A dream, a really fucked up dream….didn't it?
He contemplated it a while longer before the world grew dark and his body became heavy, and he was out before he could realize his face was full of carpet.
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A/N: Oh no! Is Johnny still Squee-homicidal? Is Jimmy really his shadow? Are Squee's parents alive now, or did the demons just get lazy and give up? All of these questions and more, will be answered at a later date or perhaps not at all.
Hey, sorry the ending sucked and the fact that it was short. But that leaves new doors open for another story!!! YAY… cough …!!! I must say, this story took longer than I thought it would. Yeah, a whole fucking year longer. I originally figured it would take maybe a few weeks…maybe months. But, damn, a year!? I really suck, huh?
It's done now, though. Thanks to those who reviewed and kept this story alive (I bet your thinking that was a mistake now, huh?) I'm not sure what I'm going to write next, but whatever it is, its coming to you live from prison. Oh yeah.