Author's Note: Keep in mind that when this chapter starts, it's about two hours before Jenny reads the newspaper last chapter.
Genre: Horror/Drama
Pairings: Bobby/Dan, implied Jenny/Dan
Rating: S'kinda gory. The chapter itself might be MA... dammit.
Chapter Summary: After getting back to the "family business", Bobby informs Dan they'll be taking a trip.
No Need for Apologies
Chapter Four: Time's Sake
By: Mazzie May
"Oh my God, please!" she cries, holding the sobbing child in her arms. Rana is clutching her so tight her nails break through the child's pajamas. Dan lifts the scissors and strikes Amy out of her arms. Rana screams as the girl is sent to the ground, bouncing off the table. She lay there, making pitiful noises of hurt and distress.
The babysitter tries to run, but Dan unhinges the sheers and sends a blade straight into her back. She's screaming again, a sound Dan can't take, and he hovers above her. Taking hold of the handle, he shifts the blade further north. The skin splits easily with a slick noise and blood spits up at him. The screaming becomes wet and choked and Rana is gurgling her own blood. He drops down and tilts his head and watches as the bitter nectar of life rushes in pulses from her mouth and nose. She lifts her head, maybe to breath, maybe to try and scream again, but he removed the scissor blade and places his hand on the back of her head.
He forces her face into her blood and tears and snot. He watches her wriggle, pounding her hands on the floor. He uses his other hand to run his finger down the cut on her back. After trailing it, he goes back to the start and sticks his finger inside of it, and then runs his hand down again. The exposed muscle sluggishly pops and parts for him. Again, she tries to scream, but she in hails nothing but her blood. Her thrashing slows.
A few moments later, she stops moving all together.
He stared down at the child always dressed in pink.
He turns Amy over on her back. Her arm is at an awkward angle, obviously broken. A deep red-brown mark has formed on her neck where she's hit the table corner. It must've crushed her windpipe; she's wheezing out puffs of red. Dan can't look at this. He takes her head by her hair and gives it a sharp turn. The snap echoes and her head bobbles, whatever saliva she'd been holding in her mouth spilling over pale lips. He lets her head go.
Her skull connecting with the hard floor makes a decent sounding crack.
He turned away from the bodies and headed back into the hall. The old blood had begun to dry, becoming tacky and when he stepped thought it, he was followed by sticky noises. He didn't stop to look at the man of the house.
Dan stood up, re-hinging the scissor blades just as he came down the stairs, clad only in sweat pants and all wet. Dan opened the blades wide and threw them at him. The sharp metal pins him back against the wall, and he brings his hands up to free his neck of the hold. Dan runs up to him, stopping quickly, taking hold of the handles. Little beads of blood are appearing just below the impromptu murder device. His hair's already plastered to his forehead and Dan thinks that he might've been in the shower. Dan stares at his face a moment, watching the sweat on his lower lip appear, his cheeks hallowing in and out as he breathed. Dan closes the scissors and pulls away. The head remains on the scissors for a moment before toppling off to the right, making wet thumps as it lands and rolls. The body loses to gravity soon after and crumples to the floor, the leg turning at an awkward angle. And Dan is surprised by the lack of blood. Not that there isn't a large amount, he just expected it to pool out faster and wider than it was. He noted the small bits of grayish meat protruding from the thickness. He turned away and while walking up the stairs, he looks over the railing, down at the head.
He waited for it to blink at him as the spinal fluid gently leaked out in even waves.
He climbed the stairs, ignoring the kitchen. The smell of burnt hair and a smoldering body fill the house. There was no need to go back to the place he first entered.
The glass door is broken easily enough and Stacey cries out as the shards rain down on her. Her mother gasps as he enters, but Stacey has dashed out of the kitchen, calling for her father. Before the poor woman can do the same, he grabs her shoulder and runs the thick metal through her abdomen. She opens her mouth, but he covers it, forcing her head backwards on the stovetop. She's soft and plump. The blades slide in and out with no effort on his part and he can feel the warm wetness of what's being removed with each stab, and the heavier, hotter thick innards smacking against his own stomach, some sticking, others falling to the tile floor with a sick slap! The shredding of her belly makes thick squishy sounds
And then he smells something. Looking away from her too wide eyes he sees the smoke. He hadn't realized the stove was on. Her hair and blouse are pressed against hot burners and they've caught flame. He lets her up but she falls to the floor. Probably not dead, but she isn't going anywhere.
Dan tilts his head as she twitches face down in what was probably her favorite room, the flames eating away at the back of her head and down the back of her body; the blouse fire spread to the long skirt. He can hear her skin blister, and watches as the blackened skin on her arms shrivels back to reveal layer after layer, only to burn away. The smell is acrid and it makes his nose itch and his throat burn. He steps over her, careful not to catch fire himself.
She doesn't notice; she's too busy twitching.
At the top of the stairs, he glanced into the bathroom, where Stacey was hanging over the bathtub. Apparently, she tried to hide in there after her father got out. Dan didn't know what happened. Bobby had slain her about the time he was pinning her dad to the wall.
Her blonde curls were clumped together with red, hanging below her head, giving a full view of her face; her mouth open in a frozen scream, one he hadn't heard, but gravity had pulled her jaw back the other way, and she appeared to be horrified as she bit her tongue. One arm slung over the wall of the shower/bathtub combination, the rest of her hiding in it. A little bit of blood had run down the edges when she first leaned over the side and some was flecked on her face, but the colour was more of a brown-purple, which would suggest to him that Bobby gutted her. Her intestines were probably resting in the tub, wrapped around her Mary-Jane clad feet.
He heard muffled screams and Bobby shushing them. He peaked into the room and saw sickly little Nancy struggling weakly and helplessly. She had pneumonia or something. Dan continued down the hall, lazily checking the rest of the rooms before the final shrieks were heard.
He hurried back to the door. He waited until it opened. Bobby smiled at him.
"Find anyone else, Daniel?" he asked, wiping his blades off on a shirt from the girl's room.
Dan didn't hesitate. "No, Brother. You beat me up here."
Bobby smiled. "You were taking too long." He held up the scissors. "You like these ones more?"
Dan looked down at the red blades. They were long still, but the pairs they were using now weren't as wide. They resembled a large pair of scissors now, as opposed to the gigantic gardening sheers they were known for. Bobby turned his back and forth in his hands. "They're lighter and easier to use, I think."
Dan stopped looking at his and blinked at his brother, itching to leave. He hadn't found Lacey, and he thought it was a safe bet that his brother hadn't either. And he knew every member of the family was home. The sooner they left, the better. If Bobby found he wasn't being totally honest…
"Got them from the most delightful of children," Bobby continued. "Wore feathers in their hair, but still. Delightful." He took Dan's and walked back into the room. "Come here, Daniel."
Dan followed nervously. "Why…" he watched Bobby set their weapons on the dresser. "Why don't we leave?"
"No," was the flat reply. Bobby turned around, casually pushing Nancy off her bed. Dan fought to keep his face straight as the heavy and wet thud erupting from beneath her opened belly, soft, shoddy, wet stuff splattering out around her.
He'd had enough. Dan turned to leave. Bobby grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him around and shoving him on the bed. Dan grimaced. Warm, wet sheets were the bad. Warm, bloody sheets were the worst. "Brother, I want to leave." Bobby climbed on top of him.
"You did so well today, Daniel," he said, looking pleased, messing with Dan's pants. "I'm going to reward you."
The wet sheets and little Lacey were quickly forgotten. "H-here?" He tried to push his hands away, but ended up just being pinned the way he did the night before. Dan blushed, realizing how much he liked the position. "Brother, not here, please…"
Bobby looked at him, smirking. "So, I can, but not here." Dan froze. He started to protest, but Bobby continued to pull at his jeans, working them too his knees.
"You're not doing this again, Daniel. We both know better."
Dan turned his head to the side, ashamed. He did know better. After last night, there was nothing that could be done. He'd wanted approval for so long, it didn't matter if this was the way it was displayed. He waited for a repeat of last night. Instead, he felt Bobby pushing his legs a part.
He lifted his head as far as he was allowed, looking at him in confusion. Bobby laughed a little.
"I was making a point before," he said, as though he were explaining a joke. "But right now…" He began to unfasten his own belt, leaning over so his face was right above his brother's. "I'm going to reward you," he whispered.
--
Dan stared at the ceiling out of the corner of his eye, softly gasping. He was counting the splatters of blood. He wasn't going anywhere. He'd been rocked by three orgasms and now felt nothing but a weakening, tingling sensation through out his entire body. His vision faded in and out, his mind was hazy. He still had a hold on the headboard. Wincing, he decided to ask his brother if next time he could stay on his back and save his knees from the fabric-burn of sheets.
Bobby had left him about ten minutes ago, completely unfazed by the last… how long had it been? How long did that fantastic thing last? Regardless, Bobby dug deep with one final thrust, sending Dan's face into the rough pillow before pulling away. Then he left. That's all Dan noticed. He was a little busy sobbing into the dry, cracking pillow.
"Daniel! Daniel?" Bobby called from the bottom of the stairs. Dan couldn't even speak. Some creaking, and then seasoned killer was in the room, seemly in good spirits. "Everything's going well! She took it with her, so that means she remembers." He took the scissors off the dresser, placing them into their own black cases. "She almost saw me, though. I suppose I'm a little rusty…" His grin shifted to a frown when he looked back at Dan.
"Daniel. Why are you still laying there?" He set the cases down. "We can't let them get too far a head of us…" He walked over to him, and when he placed his hands on either side of Dan's head, the hardened sheets cracked, sending flakes of dried blood into the air.
"Sorry…" he muttered, eyes still unfocused, face wet and flushed.
Bobby let out a noise suspiciously like a growl and grabbed his brother's shirt, and Dan hissed. All the sweating he did soaked his shirt, and when Bobby turned him over and put a hand on Dan's back, pushing his chest into the mattress, his shirt started absorbing the blood. When it dried, he was stuck to the mattress.
Bobby yanked him up and back into a sitting position. "Get dressed. Now." He shoved his little brother forward with force. "We've got to hurry. If she reaches Jennifer before we do—"
"'She'?" Dan wheezed out, trying to ignore the constricting feeling of guilt winding around his lungs and stomach at the mention of Jenny while he was trying to relish his brother's touch.
"A dangerous, terrible girl. Met her for the briefest of moments whilst collecting these," he gestured with the cases. "Don't attack her. She has these arrows… I'm not sure what it's all about yet. I'll check the libraries later." He disappeared out the door, mumbling something about 'time' and 'the past'.
Left alone, Dan grabbed his jeans from their stationary position near Nancy and pulled them up, shakily fallowing Bobby, unable to stand straight. He still hadn't gotten a total hold on himself. "Brother, where are we going?"
Turning around, Bobby looked up from an old pocket watch Dan hadn't seen before. He smiled his perfected mean grin.
"Home."
Author's Note: Meh... This isn't a filler chapter, but not by much. More like a builder chapter, strengthing the fondation for later plot devices. Over all, I'm not very fond of the chapter. It makes several points, points that are good on their own. But put together, I think the chapter comes off as rushed, choppy, disorginized... Next chapter will be better. I promise. By the way, I don't mean to keep alternating between Dan and Jenny. It's just happening that way. Also, did you catch the CT3 refrences (which really aren't refrenses, 'cause they mean something, but whatever).
R&R please. Any commentary appreciated.