A/N: Wow! Thank you guys soooo much for the reviews! Here's the 12th chapter and, yes, I did steal the name from that Val Kilmer movie!

Special thanks to smile – don't worry! I totally love your reviews!

And to Deeta I know you didn't mean to offend me and I'm sorry if sounded offended!

And to Cinnamon Angel that's too bad! L You've gotta get your fic up ASAP!

Ok here it is, guys! I'm leaving on Thursday but I've still got 2 chapters and an epilogue to write! Eek!

Enjoy!

Chapter 12:

The Ghost and the Darkness

The moment was ruined. That bright smile was torn from her face and her beautiful eyes were no longer beaming with happiness but where wide and dark with fear. Her hands retreated from his gentle grip and flew to her neck, struggling desperately to remove the arm that was wrapped tightly around her throat, cutting off her air supply, sending her into a frenzied panic.

For a moment, Tristan could only watch in shock, wondering why the fates were playing with them so cruelly. Once second, their hope for a future together was brilliant and promising, the sun seemed a bit brighter, the world a more heavenly place. Then the next, they were forced apart, separated in the most heartless way.

Tristan was ripped from his reverie by a horrible choking sound. He saw Rory, standing before him, held captive by a tangible arm; he saw the ghost behind her, holding her to him, smiling madly.

Dean. Tristan couldn't believe he hadn't noticed, hadn't see him coming.

But then he realized that he wasn't meant to. Dean had crept up behind Rory, invisible in every way, and, when the moment was right, allowed himself to be seen by not only Tristan, but Rory as well. He was getting stronger, Tristan could tell. Rory's fingers were actually pulling on the material of his shirt; Dean was no longer a transparent image, but something substantial, something physical, something real.

But none of that mattered to Tristan, he didn't care how powerful Dean was, he didn't care what he would do to him, but he wasn't going to let him harm Rory.

All of his speculation took only seconds, and before he could think, Tristan was lunging, hurling himself at them with the hopes of tearing Rory from Dean's grasp.

One moment he was watching Rory, focused completely on his goal. He saw her eyes center on him, he saw Dean remove his arm from Rory's neck and point his hand at him, but he kept going, rushing towards them with only thoughts of saving her in his mind.

The next thing he knew, he was flat on his back, staring up at the dark sky, pain surging through every cell in his body. His head was spinning and his vision began to twist in a swirling mass of disorienting colours. A scream reached his ears, but it sounded so far away, it was so weak compared to the overwhelming pain that ravaged him. He shut his eyes against the agonizing ache but the pain continued to whip through him, burning him like a wild, raging fire.

Hours seemed to wear on and he lay on the ground writhing in agony, but in seconds it was over and he was left on the soft grass, gasping for breath.

Rory had watched as Tristan leapt for her; she had felt the restricting arm move from her neck, finally allowing air to pass to her starving lungs. But what happened next was much worse. That hand sent Tristan flying backwards, knocking him harshly to the ground, and she prayed that it would leave him alone. She didn't care if it returned to her neck and continued choking her, as long as Tristan was safe.

But he wasn't, it didn't. He curled on to his side and squeezed his eyes shut tightly, and Rory could see true anguish on his face. She screamed, ordering the creature that still held her to stop hurting him, but it's only response was to chuckle insanely in her ear. Dean was enjoying it, he was grinning as he watched Tristan thrash painfully.

Rory heard a strange noise drift to her ears and it took her a moment to realize that it was her own sobbing. The man she loved was suffering terribly and she was powerless to stop it, there was nothing she could do to ease his pain.

Suddenly, it was over. Everything was quiet and still as Tristan slowly struggled to his feet, taking a moment to breathe, finally straightening up and taking a shaky step forward. His face was a whiter shade of pale, but his eyes were a determined, turbulent blue.

"I don't think so, Tristan. I wouldn't try that again if I were you." Dean's condescending voice was dripping with contempt and he smiled again as he drew Rory closer. "You don't know what you're up against."

"Let her go." Tristan ordered, his blue eyes hard and angry. Rory had never seen him so enraged.

Dean chuckled merrily. "I don't think so. Last I checked, I don't take orders from you." Rory was unable to keep a sob from escaping. "You know, I've been here for quite a while now. Granted, you couldn't see me, but I'm surprised you didn't notice I was here. What kind of a mediator are you?"

Tristan looked away as that familiar feeling of failure swamped him again. Dean was right, his perception had failed him. Even though Dean didn't want to be seen, Tristan should have been able to feel him, to sense his presence, but he hadn't.

"And, it may have just been me, but I seem to remember hearing you think that you would do anything for Rory." Dean's sardonic, ridiculing tone faltered and anger and jealousy leaked through. "Is that true?"

Tristan couldn't understand Dean's game, but he had a terrible feeling about all of this. Tristan's heart sunk as he realized that Dean could indeed read their thoughts, but what he had revealed was true: Tristan would do absolutely anything for Rory. He nodded.

Dean threw back his head and laughed, his corrupt chortle echoing surreally around the pond. "Perfect. Surely you know what a chakra is, Tristan? As well as what a person could do if they knew how to use it?"

Rory had never heard the word before but, upon seeing Tristan's face blanch, she felt incredible misfortune approaching.

Tristan felt his stomach drop to the ground when he heard Dean's scornful question. A chakra was one of seven centres of spiritual power in the human body. If a person knew how, by making physical contact they could manipulate a person's energy. It was a drastic action to resort to; if the person whose energy you had accessed knew how chakras work, they could reach along the connection and access yours. Witches, if they existed, were believed to use chakras, usually to heal. But if you had the power, you could stretch across that line and pull on the power that you found there and cause harm.

Tristan glared angrily at the monster before him. His hands were clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white and, although he didn't speak a word, Dean understood that he knew.

Rory watched the exchange, utterly confused and afraid. A chakra?

Perplexity flitted quickly through her mind as Dean leaned closer, bringing his mouth close to her ear. "He understands that I can control your power, he understands that I can play with your energy," The way the phantom spoke the word play sent a thousand terrible shivers up her spine. Rory could just imagine the look on his face, the same look he had while he enjoyed watching Tristan suffer.

She struggled to stop her tears, to keep her breathing regular as he spoke again. "He understands that with just a simple thought, I can kill you."

Rory's sobs rushed forth again. How could Dean want to hurt her? Hurt anybody? How could she have ever loved this terrible, bloodthirsty creature?

"You wouldn't." Tristan stated confidently, praying that he was right. He saw Dean place his hand gently over Rory's throat and once again he was charging at them.

"Try me."

Once more, Tristan was sent flying backwards as if he had been savagely hit with a sledge hammer. But the blow was harder, more devastating and he was sent tumbling down the grass, closer to the water. The world spun and shifted before his tired eyes and, even though he knew he was lying down, he felt as though he was spinning every which way. Upside down and around so fast that he thought he would be sick and he gripped handfuls of the fine grass, hoping that it would hold him down, keep him grounded. That terrible, fiery pain burned through him, scorching his insides until he bit his lip in an effort to keep from screaming. It was like being dipped in a mass of molten lava and in the midst of the seething pain, he wondered why he couldn't smell his own flesh burning.

And just like that it was over; as if cool water had washed over him, extinguishing the fire, smothering those fingers of flame that scratched at him relentlessly. He lingered a bit longer on the ground this time, his body exhausted, his energy completely depleted.

Rory couldn't stand to watch, couldn't stand to see the unimaginable torture that Tristan was enduring. She watched him rise and noticed that it took him a little longer to become accustomed to the absence of pain. She also caught his bleeding lip and shaking hands and again she wept for hopelessness.

Dean took even more pleasure from this more severe episode and Rory shuddered in his grip. He spoke again and she could hear the disgusting satisfaction in his voice.

"So, back to my previous comment, Tristan. Anything? Hmm, you know, I really like the possibilities." Rory could feel his grin against her cheek and an involuntary whimper escaped.

"I said, let her go!" Tristan growled, taking slow, careful steps up the bank.

"Actually, right now I like her right were she is." Her crying recommenced as he spoke those words. Dean returned his hand to her throat, making her skin crawl, and her mouth moved in silent protest. "Now, I'm about ready to have some fun. What do you think, Rory?" He allowed her enough room to turn slightly, so that she could just make out his profile in the darkening night. She sobbed again and turned to look at Tristan; he gave her the most devoted, tender gaze and she felt her breathing steady slightly.

"You won't hurt Rory. You love her too much." Tristan hated to think that this creature was ever capable of loving anything, but he said what he had to say, praying that it would strike a cord in Dean's memory.

But it didn't. The ghost's expression changed in to a revolting snarl that was meant to be a smile. A mixture of emotions spread across his face: jealousy, anger, hatred, bitterness. "No, you see that's where you're wrong. I did love her and just like you I was willing to do anything for her, including driving across ice-covered roads in a blizzard. But I was a fool. We all know where that got me." Dean gave Tristan a sly, perspicuous look and Tristan glanced away, painfully understanding what Dean was referring to. His other secret, the one he had yet to tell Rory.

"Everything went black but when I woke up the next day nobody seemed to notice me," The ghost continued. "She was upset for a while and knowing that somebody misses you makes being dead easier. It takes some time getting used to but I finally figured out how to control my abilities, my energy. You have no idea how powerful I feel; it's incredible." Rory could hear the pleasure in his voice and resisted the urge to struggle out of his embrace. "Walking through walls, superhuman strength, only being seen when I want to be seen."

Dean leaned in close and breathed delicately on her ear in a terrible manner that unnerved her and made her want to recoil. His voice became a light, breathy whisper but he spoke loud enough for Tristan to hear. "All those times in your apartment when you felt colder, all those times you felt the little hairs on you arms stand on end, all those times you felt eyes on the back of your neck," Dean grinned again before continuing, a deranged, grotesque grin that scared her beyond belief. "That was me."

Rory sobbed even harder, thinking back to all those times when she was getting in the shower or changing for bed. An incredible sense of violation flooded her and, if it wasn't for Dean's tight grip, she would have collapsed to the ground.

Dean was looking at her, watching her cry and actually smiling, but then, out of nowhere, without even turning his head, he spoke to Tristan. "Don't even think about it Tristan."

If Tristan was moving, he would have froze at that order. He hadn't even begun to lift his feet; he hadn't even taken a deep breath to prepare him for the sudden movement. He had only thought about lunging at them again, giving it another shot, but Dean had known. He knew every move Tristan wanted to make before he did it.

A haunting realization hit Tristan: he was in way over his head, Dean was out of his league, he was fighting against the odds. But that didn't mean he was giving up.

"Everything was perfect," the ghost spoke again, uttering every word slowly. Tristan flinched when he heard Rory sob once more, but he didn't know what to do. "And then she betrayed me. With you."

Tristan only had time to notice how Dean's voice had dropped to a low, angry growl and how his black eyes had darkened to the deepest shade of ebony night when it happened again. Another burst of that sweltering heat exploded through him until every inch of him was burning, flaming with the fire of a thousand suns. This time, that brutal mallet sent him hurtling towards the bridge so fast that the handrail smashed into his lower back, making him cry out in pain. He fell to the ground, only inches away from the water, as terrible convulsions ripped through his body. That ever-present fire throbbed through him, a powerful inferno that seemed to sear his flesh.

It receded slowly this time, inch by inch of his scalding skin tediously cooling down while hot tears fell unbidden down his cheeks. He found that this time, he didn't have the strength to get up and make his way back up the bank. He sat quietly for a minute, sucking air into his lungs, touching the grass, and reminding himself that he wasn't hurt. That terrifying fire was an illusion, a deluded mirage, it wasn't real.

He had just finished making his weary way back up the bank when Dean spoke again, his voice a mocking, condescending rumble. "Your deathly afraid of water, right? Why don't you take a little walk, Tristan?" Dean motioned toward the bridge and Tristan followed his line of vision.

Tristan felt sick as he stared out at the thin boards, the only thing that would keep him from being swallowed by that horrible water. Dean knew of his overwhelming, crushing fear and he wanted him to walk out over the bridge's thin planks.

Rory watched at Tristan's face became completely ashen, completely colourless. She could only imagine the horrendous fear that was surging through him at this moment. She had witnessed Dean's terrible third attack and was shocked to she him stand up after it had ceased. She remember his cry of pain as he was viciously slammed back into the railing of the bridge and had seen his body tremble and quiver as he lay twisted on the ground.

He had endured through the most terrible attacks, he had prevailed through incredible pain, he had taken everything Dean had thrown at him without one plead for mercy or one cry of complaint. But now, Dean was demanding more.

Rory watched as Tristan shook his head almost imperceptibly. No, the water was his biggest demon, the worst of all the terrible creatures he had seen. He couldn't go out there.

"No? Okay." Dean spoke and placed his hand back on Rory's throat. In an instant a horrifying pain burst through her, so powerful that she thought she would break. Tears flowed down her cheeks and she couldn't bite back the scream that erupted from deep within her.

Tristan heard her scream; that heartbreaking sound almost brought him to his knees. He understood Dean's game. Dean knew that he wouldn't stand for Rory being hurt, that he would do anything to keep her from any pain. Tristan had no choice; he would not let her suffer.

Although, more than anything, he wanted to race over there and hurt Dean as much as he had hurt both of them, Tristan did what he had to do. He slowly turned and walked down the bank to the bridge, the sound of Rory's cries driving him onwards.

He raised his foot and cautiously lowered it onto the wooden planks. Her terrible screaming stop and he breathed a sigh of relief. He had to keep going, had to make his way across the terrifyingly frail structure.

Every step was agony, every step brought more horror, more panic. One by one, he took small steps, keeping his eyes on the wooden boards that suspended him above the dreadful creature underneath. He made it half way and found that his heart was in his throat; he couldn't do this, he wasn't strong enough.

Rory continued to sob helplessly as she watched Tristan carefully make his way across the bridge. The pain had desisted as soon as Tristan took his first step onto the bridge; part of her was thankful, but a bigger part of her was wishing that he would run back to where she was, whatever the consequences.

"That's a good boy. Now, I think that you should step up on the rail." With his hand still on her throat, Dean turned to her and asked in the most sickening voice, "What do you think, Rory?" She started to shake her head and opened her mouth to protest but again that anguish tore through her, devastating her hope, and, though it sounded far, far away, she heard herself screaming.

Tristan shut his eyes against the image but couldn't stop the sound from reaching his ears. He felt a sob rush through him and barely managed to contain it. Why didn't any one hear her cries? Why hadn't anyone called for help?

It was then that he realized that he was the only one who could help her. He had to do as Dean said, he had to follow his orders.

Cautiously, he climbed up onto the rail, taking a moment to steady himself. Hours seemed to stretch on as he balanced precariously on the thin rail and he refused to look down, refused to think about the black, black water that was waiting to swallow him. It took an extraordinary effort to breathe and his hands began to tremble and shake.

He turned his head slightly so that he could look clearly at Rory. She beheld him, poised and steady on the railing, risking his life for her.

"Any last words?" Dean asked, a sardonic smile twisting his face into the most hideous mask.

Tristan nodded slowly, never tearing his eyes from Rory's face. "Rory, you know what makes me different." He started and she nodded sadly, refusing to believe that this is how they would be forced to part. For Tristan, there were so many things he needed to say to her, so many things in the short, precious time they had left. "When they touch me, I see how they died; I feel all the fear and the pain. The only difference is that I couldn't just give up and die. I had to get up each time, I had to keep moving. I couldn't even stop to think about it because I'd be completely overwhelmed with hopelessness. But you, you became my hope." Rory smiled through her tears, gazing at him with all the love she possessed. And under that smile, Tristan felt a tiny bit of joy, he realized that it didn't matter that he would be sent into that watery underworld, as long as he would remember that smile. "I've died a thousand deaths, Rory, and I would die a thousand more if you could just forgive me for everything I've done." She nodded slowly, her smile never faltering, and he understood that she did forgive him. But there was one more thing he had to tell her. "Rory, I lo-"

Suddenly, there was another blast, only this time there was no pain. Tristan's breath was knocked out of him and his words were lost as he was sent tumbling off the rail.

Rory screamed as she saw Dean's outstretched hand and watched as Tristan was forced from the railing and plunged into the water.

Tristan heard her scream but the sound was cut of as he broke through the surface of the water. For a moment everything was quiet and tranquil but he felt the frigid, terrible water brush against him, caressing him. All at once he was thrashing madly, struggling to push his way back to the surface. But it was no use; terrible fear gripped his heart as the black, harrowing depths welcomed him back with open arms.

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There it is! I hope you liked it! Review please!

Love Madz!