11

Floyd threatened, and cajoled Sam forwards with fingertips pressing into the middle of Sam's back. He needed Sam in front of him, not because he didn't trust him, which he didn't, but because he didn't want Sam to see the various expressions drifting over his face. Floyd could see the deep dark bruising on Sam's shoulder and that bruising spread out over towards Sam's shoulder blade and down his side and now it seemed to be crawling up Sam's neck. It had been a nasty dislocation and it did bother Floyd that it had been left too long and infection was going to set in, that it would never heal properly… The scratch marks on Sam's back were a matter of slight concern too. The small ones which had been caused by the things Sam had been laying in… the early summer brambles with their hook like thorns had played a part in the mess Sam's back was in, but it wasn't so much those small scratches and digs that Floyd was looking at with the flashlight, it was those few deep slices which came in even groups of three… claw marks, deep and not done by anything natural. They would scar and add to the criss-cross pattern of silvery lines on Sam's back – that was assuming Sam lived long enough for the wounds to heal and the scarring to take place. Floyd had no idea what it was Sam had agreed to, but he was going to find out soon… oh Floyd was sure of that… but whether it was going to be his own hand that squeezed the life out of that traitorous body or if maybe it would be Spencer, or even if Sam did it to himself… Floyd was very sure that Sam's life should have ended down in that ditch.

'My arse hurts.' Sam groaned and turned to look at Floyd who quickly shifted his expression to one of concern.

Floyd reached out for Sam and grabbed him by his good shoulder, pulled him close and just held him there for a while, pressing Sam's head against his chest. He thought about snapping Sam's neck and stamping up and down on that skinny chest. 'You look like a junky.' Floyd muttered. 'You're a fucking mess.'

Sam said nothing. He had always prided himself on his appearance. He knew that he had a lovely face. He knew that his body was literally to kill for… but he also knew that he was now underweight and that he was beginning to go from cute young man to used up junky… and he wanted either to drown this disappointment in more narcotics or to pull away from it and become that beautiful young man he thought he should be and once was. 'Just one more hit and I'll stop.' He sniffed onto Floyd's waxed coat.

It was really the answer Floyd thought he'd get. The lad was not going to admit what he was. 'You're a dirty whore. You sell your arse so you can pump your mind full of chemicals. That's not what I taught you. I taught you to be constantly vigilant. Sure, whore yourself out, but do it for the pleasure of the act, not for the money.' He held his boy tighter and felt his own heat swelling inside of him. Floyd knew that this should end here. He knew that Sam had been corrupted by something and he had a good idea what it was that had done it… and he tightened his hands on Sam who didn't seem to realise what it was Floyd was doing. He just snuffled in closer and took in the lovely Floydian smell… And then was pushed away.

'We need to go and find Spencer.' Floyd told Sam… He couldn't do it. Even though this wasn't his boy any more and even though he knew Sam meant harm… even though this creature was dirty, beaten, snotty… it was still beautiful in its own broken and sorry way and there might be a way to fix it.

'Do you love me?' Sam asked…

Floyd could see the shadow of Sam's dark eyelashes on the darkening skin under his eyes and it made his stomach heave with sorrow… and that wasn't something Floyd felt very often and he didn't want to be feeling it again when he found Spencer. 'Of course. I came looking for you didn't I? I fixed your arm for you… Of course I love you.'

'You'd not hurt me?'

Floyd shook his head and put a smile on his face. A smile which didn't reach his eyes, but that was fine, Sam never noticed things like that. 'Never… Not unless… but…' Floyd slipped the smile away and shrugged. 'Come… let's find Spencer and get home. We all need a long shower or a soak in the tub. This woodland stinks.'

So they walked on further and this time Floyd took hold of Sam's hand, not lovingly, but more like a possession… and he dragged his mutinous dog along with him as he sniffed at the air and walked towards where Spencer was laying and Floyd felt he'd been honest with Sam. When the time came, if it was left to him to finish it, he'd kill Sam quickly. He'd not hurt him… He'd not give the demon who had molested his dog that much satisfaction.

'How do you know which way to go?' Sam's voice broke the silence they'd been walking through.

Floyd stopped walking and pulled Sam down to hunker. 'Feel the ground.' Floyd's hand pressed Sam's to the earth. 'Feel it.'

Sam shook his head. He couldn't feel anything and Floyd knew that he'd feel nothing. 'What am I meant to be feeling?'

'It's slight, which is likely why you can't feel it… like a warmth. It feels as though something is sliding over the ground and touching my fingertips and pulling me onwards.'

Sam pulled his hand out from under Floyd's and shook his head. 'I thought it was vibrations you were feeling for. But you're not tracking by this.'

Floyd stood up and wiped his fingers on the side of his coat. 'Indeed. I'm tracking by the smell. I assumed you were too. Can you not smell that?'

Sam walked a small circle and came back to face Floyd. 'No. What am I meant to be able to smell?'

'Corruption.' Floyd told him in a whisper. 'It's as though the devil himself has walked these woods.'

'I thought you could smell Spencer? Are we not looking for him?' It was a confused questioning voice. Maybe a scared voice.

'Uh hu.' Floyd muttered and reached out again for Sam's hand. Floyd placed his other hand on his head. 'I feel Spencer here. Inside my mind. I can feel him… the two lead to the same place.'

'Can you feel me in there too?' Sam questioned.

'No need. I can feel you in my hand.' And he squeezed it. 'No need for added distractions. 'Now walk.'

'I keep getting things in the bottom of my feet.' Sam moaned. 'They stole my shoes. They let me party with me then they were on me and…' Sam's voice drifted through one of Floyd's ears and out of the other. He had no interest in Sam's sorry story. The matter than he'd been set upon by a gang of retards neither surprised or interested him… he wanted Sam to open up and admit what he'd agreed to do, maybe if he did that then Floyd could help him, but he wasn't going to assist a devious little shit, which is what Sam was being.

'I'm surprised that you are able to stand, let alone walk.' Floyd commented as Sam stopped to pull a thorn out of the bottom of his foot. 'When I started tracking for you there was a lot of pain. I felt it. I squirted blood out of my backside, mouth and nose… same time… messy.' He stopped talking and gave Sam a chance to tell him of his remarkable recovery. 'You suffered a grave injury.' Floyd now said and still Sam remained silent. 'You lay in a fucking ditch for two days… I'd say that the pain must have been extensive, if not the damage. It felt to me like your bowels had been ruptured. You were dying.'

Sam's face twitched a small smile. 'I heal quickly, thank the gods.'

Floyd nodded and placed a cool hand on the side of Sam's face. 'Yes. Let us thank the gods. Later though. For now…' He pointed in the direction they'd been going. 'The gods have been kind to you.' Floyd said as they walked onwards. The thick smell was there again, oozing around an area with a lot of fallen trees.

'I think sometimes that the gods forget me.' Sam whined.

'They are merciful.' Floyd spoke, but now pulled Sam to a halt. 'Wait here.' A hand on Sam's shoulder pushed him down. 'I don't know what I'm going to find.'

'I've seen many horrific sights.' Sam whispered. 'Do you think Spencer is dead?' Sam could hardly conceal the fright or was it wonder in his voice.

'Wait.' He ran gentle fingers through Sam's hair. 'I'll call you over when I need you. If you hear something just shout.'

'Hear something?' Sam glanced around the dark forest… the rain had stopped but the water was dripping down in big wet splats off the trees.

'You know… something which shouldn't be out here in the woods at night.' Floyd gave the top of Sam's head a kiss… Again he could taste the corrupt and sour taste coming off Sam… and even though he'd said so many times in the past and would no doubt continue to say it, he did care about Sam and this was pissing him off righteously. 'Stay safe. I'll be right over there.' He moved away quickly before he could tear Sam up off the ground and start shaking him for being such an idiot… then kissing it all away.

'Fucking damnit.' Floyd groaned as he made his way by the huge sideways trees which all seemed to have fallen in the same direction as though a giant had arrived and snapped the forest with a swipe of his mighty paw. He moved slowly, not only listening out for the sounds of evil and demonic activity, but also listening for Spencer… it wasn't a sound that alerted him to Spencer, but pale wet flesh glinting in the light of the flashlight he had in his hand. Still he didn't run. He took things carefully. Falling and snapping his neck now would solve no problems. A quick glance over his shoulder and he saw that Sam hadn't moved. Had that been his own Sam, the one he loved… maybe… then he would have moved. His own Sam wouldn't sit there plotting something… his own Sam would be trying to help and ingratiate himself to Floyd… this Sam just sat and picked at his toes and watched… Those eyes glaring back weren't Sam's.

Floyd turned his back on the creature and hunkered down now next to Spencer. 'Hey Babes.' He touched the cold flesh on the side of Spencer's face. He'd been cut and the wound had been infected, but now it was just a nasty open wound slowly turning black around the edges. He looked down at the slightly open eyes and then at the mouth with the purple bruising around the swollen lips. He didn't have to check, but still he moved his fingertips to the side of Spencer's cold neck… and then he moved his hand and placed it on Spencer's chest.

Floyd sat down in the dirt and put fingertips onto his temples and he rubbed furiously. Then he did the same to his eyes and across his nose. Next Floyd moved so that he could get to the bindings holding Spencer's hands behind his back… they undid easily as did the ones on his ankles. Floyd pulled Spencer over so that he was laying on his back and then he sat down next to him and pulled Spencer's head onto his lap. He sat maybe forever with Spencer laying there cold, getting colder… turning blue… the blood already beginning to settle, slowly finger brushing his hair and running his thumb over Spencer's lips. He carefully ran his hand down over Spencer's face and closed his eyes properly. Floyd guessed Spencer had been gone for a couple of hours, but his spirit was still there… his soul was still hanging on; calling out to him and guiding him here. This wasn't the end… not yet. Floyd wouldn't allow it to be over like this. It wasn't until something touched Floyd on the shoulder that he remembered Sam.

'It's getting light.' Sam spoke quietly. 'You've been sitting there for ages.' No word of sorry or sympathy because this creature couldn't.

'I'll carry him back to the house.'

Sam nodded. 'How far is it? My feet are really sore.'

'A mile or so.'

Sam nodded again. 'Why not bury him out here? It seems stupid to carry him back to the house. You might be seen. What will you do with him anyway? He's going to end up in the ground anyhow.'

Floyd would have reached up and torn Sam's throat from his unthinking body… but not yet… oh not yet. 'I need to wash him down. Oil him. Give him a farewell fuck.'

'Floyd, he's dead. You can't fuck him.'

'Sam… Sammy-boy… Give me a break will you?' He chucked the flashlight to the side. 'Carry that. I'll carry Spencer.'

'Are you going to have his heart and liver?' Sam licked at his lips without thinking.

'Sam…' Floyd wanted to say so much more, but didn't. It would have let Sam know that he was so onto him that he might as well have Guilty stamped on his forehead. 'I'm not leaving him here.'

'What killed him?' Sam peered now over Floyd's shoulder and shone the light down onto the bruised face.

'Not an animal. Animals – non-human animals don't tie people up, so this is a who not a what.'

'Ok Cool… That's what I meant. What – I mean… who killed him? Was it the same guys who got me do you think?'

'Considering Spencer was out searching for you… I'd suspect that has a lot to do with this.'

'Wow.' Sam moved away from Floyd and looked towards the way they'd come. 'Daylight almost.' He clicked off the flashlight. 'I guess he died a hero then? Trying to save me. Wow… Someone died for me. Feels great. That's a fucking awesome feeling.' The voice sounded false… empty… dull… Something had taken both of his boys from him in an instant. He'd not even had the chance to summon the bastard. It didn't need to be summoned. Belatedly Floyd now realised that. The thing was all ready here and had never left.

Floyd removed his coat and wrapped Spencer in it. Sam stood back and watched…

And Sam wanted to cry and be sad. Sam wanted to help and suggest things and gather herbs and prepare stuff, but he couldn't. He just stood and watched and inside of him was a happy excited glow building up which he knew shouldn't be there, but all the same it felt so damned good! He had been slightly tempted to pick up a rock and smack it over the back of Floyd's head… the idea of feeling Floyd's blood spray over his hands made his stomach clench and his nose run with the sudden adrenaline rush, but with only one good arm it wasn't worth the risk. He'd need all his strength to wallop Floyd. So he watched and wondered why he didn't care about Spencer and why he couldn't even bring himself to show some kind of pretence that he was sad… but there was just this horrible empty hollow feeling there. He wanted to walk behind Floyd so he could see Spencer's dead hands flopping down and swaying around Floyd's back, but he was told to take the lead.

'Make sure there is no where I'm going to fall.' Floyd told Sam.

Sam was again going to suggest that they left Spencer behind. The woodland creatures would eat him up… yummy, yummy and if he was eventually found in bits scattered around then they'd assume he died by a falling tree. It seemed like a good call to Sam, but he managed to bite back his words when he saw that hard, ghastly look on Floyd's face.

'Move faster.' Floyd nagged at Sam's back.

'But my feet hurt.' Sam stopped and wiped at the bottom of his feet.

'Then heal thy self.' Floyd snapped at him. 'You fixed up your torn insides… you managed to free your lungs of mud and water, surely you can mend your damned feet.'

It was a good point and not one Sam had really considered. 'I guess it took all my energy to fix my insides.' Sam muttered and rubbed at his sore shoulder, but he did start to move faster and the closer they got to home the more the burden over Floyd's shoulders weighed down on him.

o-o-o

Floyd laid Spencer out on the large oak dining table. He stripped him off, throwing the dirty clothes to the side and then heated water in large pans. Sam suggested that Floyd popped Spencer in the tub or the wet room and was shouted at and told to go away and leave him be. Sam offered to warm up the oils and again Floyd told him to get lost.

'He was my friend too!' Sam wailed. Finally maybe finding the right words to say. 'I want to help!'

'You've helped far too much recently.' Floyd pulled a towel out of a drawer and tucked it under his arm as he picked up the first large pot of water. 'Go sort your arm out. Sleep… take some drugs, get high, masturbate… do whatever it is you do, but leave me.'

Sam skitted from one foot to the next and licked at his lips. 'But…'

'For the love of the gods! Leave me! I need to do this alone! I don't want you here watching. Spencer wouldn't want you watching. I want to be alone!'

'I am feeling that I should keep an eye on you.' Sam insisted as he backed slowly away. 'You are not in your right mind.'

'NO! I'm not in my right mind! Get the fuck away from me. Get your dirty spoiled body out of my fucking sight and leave me!'

'I think that I need to be here.' But still Sam backed away. 'If you need me…'

'I wont. I really wont need you. Fuck off.' He slammed the water down onto the table next to Spencer.

Floyd took care. He washed Spencer down slowly with the white towel. He talked to him all the time, telling him that he would make this right. Begging him to stick around for a bit longer. 'I will bring you back. I'll fix things.' He muttered as he washed dirt off Spencer's left hand. He looked at the bluish fingernails and he ran his finger over the scrapes and cuts on Spencer's wrists. This was how he should have found Sam. This is what really should have happened. Had Sam died then maybe Spencer would still be alive?

He poured out the water and got the next lot. When he arrived back at the table Sam was standing there looking at Spencer's face. 'What do you want?' Floyd again slammed the bowl of water down.

'I've had a shower.' Sam muttered. 'I'm sorry he died.' He then managed to say, though it hurt his head to say it. 'I want to help.' He tried a sorry voice which came out as a shallow whine.

Floyd walked around the table and took Sam by the shoulder. He turned him away from Spencer and shoved him towards the exit. 'Get the fuck out before I have another death to look upon.' And a kick up the backside sent Sam stumbling and hissing a low sound of something not quite Sam like… something not right. A waft of stink came to Floyd as Sam stomped his way up the stairs. That creature was one of the last beings he wanted around his love right now.

After Floyd washed Spencer back and front and got as much of the muck out of his hair that he could, he concentrated on the slash to the side of his face. He washed it carefully and the wiped it over with a mix of herbs and hot water… He plucked a hair from his own head and let it soak for a short while before using it to sew the wound carefully. If all worked as it should then maybe that would scar. That really would be the least of Spencer's worries. He rubbed oils into his hands and rubbed that over Spencer's cold skin… 'Poor Babes.' Floyd whispered. 'I should have been with you. I shouldn't have sent you off looking for Sam. I failed to protect you.' He let out a long sigh and slid his arms under his now very slippery dead friend. 'I let you down, Babes… but I can fix this.' He lifted Spencer off the table and took him to their bedroom.

The room smelt of them. It smelt of an alive sweating Spencer and a willing lusty Floyd. The new smells of the oils Floyd had rubbed over Spencer were now beginning to mix with the old scents and if this didn't work that would be the only smell this room would have. He lay Spencer on his side, locked the door, closed the curtains and then stripped off himself… 'Old Woman… don't let me down now. I know you're pissed with me. I know you don't want to talk to me, but what I've done isn't Spencer's fault. Don't let Spencer down. He doesn't deserve this shit.'

o-o-o

Sam sat alone in his bedroom and nibbled on his fingernails. There was an angry voice bellowing at him inside his skull and it felt like it was making his eyeballs rattle. You should have stopped him. If he gets that whore back it will be your fault… the voice wailed at him. He was going to surrender you to me. You were going to be mine. He's a traitor. He's a liar… stop him!

'I don't know how to stop him.' Sam moaned and held his head to stop his skull from shaking apart. 'You're hurting me! Why wont you mend my shoulder? Why are you hurting me when I said I'd help you? Why do I have to kill Floyd?'

He has some scrolls hidden… find them. Destroy them. Release me.

Sam slowly got to his feet. The room swam around once and then settled. Still holding his head with his hands he walked to the door. 'What will happen if I don't help you?'

You have no choice.

'I could just refuse.' Sam whispered.

Try… try it and see what happens. Find the scrolls.

Reluctantly Sam pulled open his bedroom door. 'I don't know where to start looking.' He muttered and then tiptoed down the stairs. He didn't know why, but he avoided the second from the top and the fourth from the bottom. He had a feeling that they'd make a noise, though he'd not noticed it when he stomped his way up here earlier. The small area at the foot of the stairs had the lounge to his left, the front door straight ahead and the door to Floyd's rooms to his right. There was a strange smell down here. A smell of the heady oils Floyd had used… and they reminded Sam of churches and witches, but there was also a strong smell of lavender. Sam was tempted to knock on Floyd's door and ask what was going on, but he didn't think Floyd would answer. Sam put his back to Floyd's door, walked into the lounge and started checking places for secrets. He looked up the chimney, crawled around looking for loose flooring, pulled back the rugs and looked for trap doors. He carefully tapped the walls for secret hollow places, pulled back paintings to check behind them. There was nothing. At least in this room there was nothing. He walked to the door which led to Floyd's small office. It seemed the next most likely place for him to hide things, but then again, knowing Floyd as he did… maybe the obvious places were the least likely? He put a hand on the door and found it was locked. Not a problem as such as Sam would easily be able to open it, but it meant if it was locked then maybe there were secrets he was hiding in there. 'What will happen if Floyd realises what is going on? What if tell him?' There was no reply. Sam looked at the office door again and ran his fingers over the lock. It clicked back and allowed Sam access to Floyd's private room.

There was nothing really fancy about it. Filing cabinets lined one wall, ancient books along another. A big very old desk stood against the far wall with a computer and a couple of laptops sitting on it. The big computer was showing a green light, but the screen was a swirling blue; a screensaver. Sam closed the office door and walked over to the computer, twitched the mouse and looked at the screen which popped up… a divided screen showing different rooms in the house… The wet room, Sam's bedroom, the kitchen, the den on the other side of the house and Floyd's bedroom… Sam ran his fingers over the moving images… he touched the one which showed him what Floyd was doing. 'You bastard.' Sam moaned. 'You sneaky fucking shit.' He clicked through the icons at the bottom of the screen pulling up the different rooms in the house. 'This is just so much shit…' He saw his own bathroom, his own den… 'No wonder I could feel you watching me.' Quickly Sam snapped the screen back to how it had been and he backed away. 'Do you know I was watching you fuck that dead cunt?' Sam whispered. 'Can you hear me?' He couldn't tear his eyes away from that image on the screen. 'I know I do some disgusting things, but you are the fucking lowest shit I've ever known.' He opened the door, closed it again, locked it and stood with angry tears in his eyes.

'Help me.' He muttered. 'Where are the scrolls?'

There was no reply.

'Will you be able to tell when I'm close?'

Keep looking. They're not in his little room where he spies on you and takes away even the privacy he claimed he'd given you. The voice which almost seemed to be laughing replied. Sam moved through the dining room, checking the pictures on the walls again, feeling the plaster for anything odd, checking under the rug which had been imported from Japan. He even checked for secret places under the table which stank of Spencer's body and that almost terrible smell of the oils Floyd had used. There was nothing here. He checked the kitchen next and this took longer. The cupboards were stuffed with pots and pans of all sizes, plates, mugs, cups, delicate tea-sets, chunky soup bowls. The drawers held cutlery, little pots of things, tiny packets of spices… there was nothing here that shouldn't be. He picked up a bread knife and held it tightly. He tried to imagine himself plunging it into Floyd's neck, but in the image he got he saw Floyd swipe the thing out of his hand and tear it through his own stomach. Sam looked at his feet almost expecting to see his own intestines quivering there. The other side of the kitchen was a passage, one side of it lead to a screened porch, straight ahead was the door which went into the garage and next to that stairs going up to the den. Sam walked, dragging his fingers along the wall and then slowly he walked up the stairs to a big airy room with low brown leather seating, a big TV screen, cushions scattered everywhere, a drinks cabinet and a load of very pornographic photos hanging on the wall, (tastefully shot in black and white). Again Sam started a search. 'Just let me know if I get hot.' He muttered with annoyance.

o-o-o

The Old Woman had been expecting them. She sat on the grass and smiled as Floyd wandered over and sat down next to Spencer who was laying motionless on the grass. In this existence Spencer had on a strange robe, almost like a monk from the ancient times.

'You took your time.' She smiled though and held out a wrinkled hand. 'Trouble is brewing.'

Floyd prodded Spencer with his finger. 'I know there's trouble.' He dared not look at her in the eyes.

'Not this. You have lost Sam.'

'I know.' Floyd sighed. 'I will do something about that later. This is more important.'

'If that creature is released it will kill hundreds, maybe thousands. This one thing is more important than all of those lives?'

Floyd dragged air in over his teeth. 'Of course.'

'And how to you intend to stop Sam? He's close. Very close. That creature will destroy you… it will take back Spencer. What point is there in me helping you just so this poor man can be ripped apart again? Why don't you accept this is the end for him and move forwards and do what you're meant to be doing?'

Floyd touched Spencer's chest with his fingertips. 'I'll dispatch Sam.'

'You will trade one for the other? How loving is that?'

The Old Woman was annoying him. He stood up and would have kicked her in the face had she not instantly stood also. 'That damned place, Sanctuary, has been a portal for longer than I've been hanging around down there. If not this demon then another. The place is cursed. I'll send it back to hell if I can. I will do that. I said fifty, eighty, two hundred years ago that I'd do that if I was given the chance. I'd close that entrance for good, but you don't trust me.'

'I don't trust you. Are you surprised?' She took Floyd by the hand and led him away from Spencer. 'You can't close the gateway. It's not possible. You can however stop that creature that's been lurking around there for so long. You can send it back, but not with Sam.'

'I'll pull Sam back. I'll… I'll persuade him that what he's trying to do is wrong. I'll explain things.'

'Too late… he's well on his way to stopping you. I'll see what I can do for Spencer. You left it too long really. I shouldn't…'

'I had no fucking choice!' Floyd shouted at her a second before her hand struck him hard around the face.

'Firstly you will not shout at me when you are here begging favours. Secondly no child of mine will use that disgusting language at me.'

Floyd's hand went to his face where he could feel it burning. 'Bitch.' He hissed the words. 'Either help me or don't.'

'Go and stop Sam. Eliminate him.'

'It's like you're telling me to kill my child.' He moaned. 'There has to be another way. I don't want Sam dead. I don't want Spencer dead and I certainly don't want myself dead.'

She put a hand on the top of Floyd's head. 'I'll see what I can do for Spencer. You go and see if you can save your Sam. I cannot see that this is going to have an ending where we are all going to be happy. Make sure that the unhappy face is the one you intend it to be.'

He wasn't sure what the fuck she meant by that, but suddenly the grass and the blue sky was gone and Floyd was laying alone on the bed. He slid off, pulled his clothes back on again and left the room.

'Sam! Sam! Where the hell are you? I need to talk to you now!'