I don't like the beginning of this chapter. Ignore it and enjoy the Sexter and Rasent instead.

Chapter 17 – Fudge, Truth and Nightmares

It was a little-known fact that Skulduggery had always had a sweet tooth.

Which was why he found himself really envying Erskine at the moment. Why did he get to enjoy sweet treats when Skulduggery didn't? And how come he had the audacity to scarf them down right in front of him?

"Is something wrong?" Erskine asked through a mouthful of fudge.

Skulduggery scowled. "It's not fair," he grumbled. "You get to enjoy fudge and other sweet delights when I'm stuck with that rotten soup, day in, day out."

Frowning, Erskine swallowed what was in his mouth and walked over to sit on the sofa next to Skulduggery. "Is that why you've been giving me odd looks?" he asked. "Over food?"

"Food that I can't taste without getting sick afterwards."

"Are you sure about that?"

Confused, Skulduggery tilted his head. "I'm pretty sure that-. Hmm?"

Erskine had wasted no time in pulling Skulduggery into a kiss, cutting short what would no doubt have turned out to be a ridiculously long monologue. In the past, he would have been reprimanded for such a thing, but this time, there were no qualms against it as the kiss was happily returned. Pleasure danced through Skulduggery's mind, and oh, god did it taste sweet. So much that it left him yearning for more when Erskine pulled away.

"I… w-wow," Skulduggery breathed. "That was…"

"It tastes nice, doesn't it?" Erskine said, smiling.

Nodding, Skulduggery grinned and initiated another kiss, just as sweet as the last one.

A few hours later, Valkyrie, Clarity, the four resident men and Tanith were gathered in the living room, playing Truth or Dare after Tanith had dragged them into it. So far, Dexter had been dared to kiss Skulduggery (earning him a vicious slap from the detective in question, who spent the next few turns glaring at Tanith furiously), Saracen had danced to Gangam Style, Skulduggery had been forced to admit what had happened the first time he'd ever gotten drunk (apparently he'd kissed and proposed to his favourite mare and insisted that Ghastly be the one to marry them) which left everyone howling with laughter, and Clarity had been challenged to stand on one hand for as long as possible. They lasted three minutes and twenty-two point seven eight seconds.

Eventually, it was Erskine's turn.

"Okay, then, Erskine," Tanith began, a scheming glint in her eyes. He was in trouble, he could feel it. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth," Erskine said quickly, desperate not to get into trouble.

"What's with the turtlenecks? Seriously, you never stop wearing them."

The colour completely fled from Erskine's face. Oh, no.

"I… I, um…" he mumbled, nervously pulling at the sleeves of his turtleneck. The girls didn't know about what had happened to him, and now didn't seem to be a great time to bring it up. "Well, I… I get cold easily, and…"

"Would you look at the time?!" Saracen exclaimed suddenly, standing up a little too quickly than necessary. "I don't know about you, but I'm going to turn in. Husky is likely going to wake me up at six again."

"I-I'm going up as well," Erskine stuttered quickly, leaving the room before anyone could protest. "Goodnight."

Tanith glared daggers at him until he left, and when she finally averted her eyes, she noticed that Clarity was giving them and Valkyrie an odd look. "What?"

"That was a bad move," Clarity said quietly, getting up and leaving as well. Dexter followed suit mere moments afterwards. Skulduggery was the only one left with the women.

"What was that about?" Valkyrie demanded.

"Maybe you should have asked that instead of the stupid turtleneck question," Skulduggery replied bitterly. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to bed as well."

Tanith and Valkyrie were lost in stunned silence until he left, then Tanith broke it.

"Is everyone going insane?!"

Saracen had never told anyone, but since Darquesse, he'd been plagued by nightmares, much like how he was now. It was always the same one; he was being crushed by rock and rubble; covered in blood, unable to move or breathe and surrounded by hissing, snarling shadows that whispered in his ears. Reality was fading, a high, frantic noise echoed in his ears, and he only realised it was the sound of his own screams when a hand burst through the debris and hauled him out. Clinging on for dear life, he only let go when he saw light.

"Saracen," Dexter pressed, shaking his friend's shoulders worriedly. Saracen had completely frozen up, and it was impossible to tell if he was awake or still trapped in whatever nightmare he'd been enduring. "Come on, wake up, Sar."

Saracen continued to whine in distress, shaking his head, but eventually his eyes focused on Dexter.

"Dexter?" he breathed. "What are you..?"

"You were yelling in your sleep," Dexter explained. "When I came in, you were more or less being strangled by the sheets."

"Oh. Sorry I woke you."

"You didn't. I was getting a drink when I heard you."

"Okay."

"You want to talk about it?" Dexter asked, shifting about to sit cross-legged on the bed next to Saracen.

"Y-yes. Please."

"Go ahead."

Saracen took a deep breath. "You know how I got crushed by a wall when fighting Darquesse? I… I keep having nightmares about it."

"Dexter frowned, his brow creasing in concern. "This… this has been happening since..?"

A nod. "Yes. I… I spent six months stuck in that moment. I couldn't move, breathe, and… I just felt so cold. I was terrified.

He started shaking, and Dexter quickly wrapped an arm around his shoulders to try and calm him down. "You never told us."

"I didn't want to become a burden."

"That's bullshit," Dexter snorted. "You'd never be a burden to me."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Then could you, um… stay with me? Just for tonight. I'd rather not have any more nightmares."

"Sure."

Smiling, Dexter lay down next to Saracen. The two men lay apart; not touching, but close enough to know that the other was there. It was what they'd done during the war; them and the other Dead Men.

Dexter was asleep within moments, but Saracen was not so quick to return to the land of dreams.

At some point in the night, he felt Dexter roll over and wrap his arms around him in a warm embrace. Saracen smiled. He wouldn't be having any more nightmares tonight.

Saracen and Dexter weren't the only ones sleeping together to ward off nightmares. Erskine was woken up by someone entering his room. Looking up blearily, he saw the soft glint of violet eyes by the door. His first thought was that Clarity wanted to talk to him, but then he remembered that Clarity's eyes glowed, and these ones didn't.

"Skulduggery? You okay?"

The detective was silent as he walked over and crawled beneath the covers next to Erskine. Concerned, Erskine allowed Skulduggery to embrace him tightly. He didn't expect him to suddenly start crying into his chest.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

The detective continued to sob hysterically, and Erskine caught muffled Irish, of which he understood 'failed' and 'couldn't save them'.

"My fault, my fault," he wailed. "Couldn't stop… I was too weak… It's my fault!"

As Skulduggery continued to sob, Erskine was repeatedly stroking his hair and rubbing his back gently in an attempt to soothe him. He knew what was going on.

"It wasn't your fault," he whispered, hugging Skulduggery tightly. "You were wronged, tricked and used by a monster. It was his fault you lost them, not yours."

"Arrachtaigh a dhéanamh arrachtaigh," Skulduggery whimpered. "It's an endless cycle. He made a monster out of me. It's my fault."

By this point, he seemed inconsolable, but Erskine wasn't giving up. He'd hurt his friends too much to let them hurt themselves. Forcefully, he pushed Skulduggery away from him and looked him in the eye sternly.

"You are not a monster," he said firmly. "I don't know how you got that into your head, but it's utter crap. Four hundred years, and I've never met a more selfless, noble man in my life. True, you've got your faults, but you've made up for it more than enough times. There's no one else I would trust more with my life."

Skulduggery didn't say anything. Tears still streamed from his eyes, but he'd stopped weeping, which was something.

Wordlessly, he pulled Erskine into his chest, his breathing shaky and fingers entwining with Erskine's hair. He was kissing the top of his head repeatedly as he mumbled incoherently. After ten minutes of this monotonous sequence, he eventually quieted, leaving Erskine concerned and confused, but he was too tired to dwell on it. The sleeping draught was kicking back in, and it was calling him back into the depths of sleep.

"We can't change the past," he murmured drowsily. "And we can't let it hurt us now, either. Please. Don't let it hurt… don't let…"

He didn't manage to finish his sentence before he was asleep. He had his arms around Skulduggery, and as the blond held him close, he gently rested his head in the crook of his neck.

"If only you knew," Skulduggery whispered mournfully. "My past is always threatening to invade my future. Always threatening to hurt everyone. To hurt you."

It was true. In the back of his mind, he could feel Vile repeatedly prodding at the bars of his cage, looking for a way out. The Necromancer's perverted fantasies invaded Skulduggery's thought every now and then, but he managed to beat them back.

'I'll kill whoever hurts him,' Vile snarled. 'Including you.'