Disclaimer: I don't own Misfits. Includes strong language.

The reviews were much appreciated :)

A couple of points raised which I felt I should answer - firstly, yes, the series will probably have Kelly hear Nathan's thoughts as that makes far more sense than my method :D I just noticed there were a couple of fanfictions that had already taken that route and didn't want to copy. Secondly, Nathan's smart-arse personality... let's just say it'll be a little dented.

Nathan lay below compact, heavy earth gazing into the blackness above his head with half-closed eyes. He wasn't sure when exactly his mind had gone blank and he had stopped shouting for help. He couldn't have pin-pointed the moment when his body had stopped responding to his commands, when his screams died in his throat before they could even get near his cracked lips. He imagined worms and insects and unimaginable crawling things eating him alive, sneaking into his guts and chewing on his organs. He wondered if he would live if he had no body to live in. Just how far did immortality go? It didn't seem to matter much at this moment. Nothing really seemed to matter right now.

Everything seemed to hurt in some way, and yet he couldn't muster the will to move. Perhaps this would be death for him, this semi-conscious emptiness that had taken hold of him. He felt as if he had simply become another part of the coffin, as lifeless as the real corpses around him. He wondered if he was breathing or not. He wasn't sure. One thing, though, was absolutely certain in his slow, deserted mind - he was never going to be rescued. Nobody was ever going to come for him. Why would they? Why would anyone think to dig him up again? His shouts clearly hadn't reached above ground, and even if they had nobody had heard them. He was going to spend the rest of his life here in a coffin, watching the silk decay around him, listening to others being buried around him, waiting for nothing forever.

He noticed a strange, almost coppery taste in the back of his throat. The sensation had been growing for quite some time now, niggling at him more and more. He had stopped trying to swallow it away - it only grew stronger. If he had the strength and a clear enough mind, he would have tried to cough it out. As it was, the taste paled to insignificance compared to the eternity stretching out before him now. He felt exhausted, as if he had just spent an entire night throwing up; his body was weak and shivery, his head pounding, his mind blank. He wanted to sleep, but if he did sleep, he would surely end up dying once more, and he couldn't take it. The thought that had originally seemed empowering, exciting, and yet now he could think of nothing worse. So he decided not to think at all. He let go. He drifted.

Curtis felt sweat on his back and his upper lip, felt heat prickling in his brow despite the icy tongue of the air around him that dragged over his skin endlessly. He dug the blade of his spade into the earth below him and leant heavily on the handle, panting, his jacket discarded high above him. The muddy walls stretched above his head by now in an uneven, jagged hole, roots brushing the back of his neck and sending dirt trickling down his back. He could barely see - they dug by the light of a tiny torch he had found at the community centre and balanced on the gravestone. He brushed a hand over his face and watched Simon heap mounds of soft soil over his shoulder, out of the hole. Curtis was by far the stronger of the two of them, but Simon had surprising perseverance. His jaw was clenched tightly and his eyes boring into the ground, as if he had just received some shocking news, or perhaps felt sick. His dark shirt made his head seem almost dismembered. Curtis watched him dig, and thought how he had dug up or buried corpses way too many times in the last month or so.

There was a sudden thud from beneath them, and Simon let out a heavy pant, steam rushing from his lips. "Got it," he breathed. "It's here."

Curtis nodded stiffly, trying to ignore the way his spine was tingling uncomfortably. If they were wrong, if all they found was a worm-ridden corpse... He put the thought out of his mind and helped Simon to clear away the last few layers of dirt. They had dug wider than they needed to, and Curtis managed to make himself a small space beside the slowly emerging coffin in which to crouch. He uncovered the brass clasps one by one and flipped them open, but the lid didn't budge. Of course not - the clasps were for show. Coffin lids were nailed down. He gestured to Simon and together they rammed the blades of their spades beneath the lid and shoved the handles down. The polished wood splintered, groaned.

"Shit," Curtis muttered.

Simon didn't reply. Curtis wet his lips as the lid began to give, spoke up in a voice that sounded small and unsteady in the thick air.

"Get the torch?"

Simon threw his spade out and climbed up after it, scrabbling on the earthy walls, his clothes streaked with mud and dirt. He crawled to the headstone, took the torch, jumped back down again. Together they stood beside the coffin, gazing down at Curtis' spade lodged in the gap between the lid and the casket, the only sound their rapid panting. Simon directed the torch onto the wood, his hands shaking so that the light leapt and trembled. Curtis took a deep breath.

"Okay," he muttered. "Okay. Here we go."

Simon nodded, made a small noise in the back of his throat. Curtis steadied himself, told himself everything would be fine, and then with a sharp pull levered up the lid of the coffin. He shoved it back, letting it fall against the opposite wall of their hole, and steeled himself to look. He caught a glimpse of pale, ashen skin, dull hair, skeletal hands, the blazing white wires of an I-pod, and could look no more. He clamped his eyes shut, gritting his teeth.

"Shit, fuck!" he hissed, clinging to his spade. He heard Simon let out a fast sigh, forced himself to open his eyes and look again. Nathan lay in the darkness of his coffin, his eyes half open and glazed, dry, pale lips parted, completely still... There was no way he had been shouting loud enough for them to hear. No way at all. "Shit!" he repeated, so loudly that Simon flinched. "What the fuck have we done? What did you make me do? Simon, fuck!"

He turned away, nausea heaving in his stomach. Dead. Nathan was dead, and he had just dug him up again. It was an insult to his memory, so disrespectful to mar his grave like this. What would Kelly say? She would surely notice that someone had been digging. God, this had been such a terrible, terrible idea.

"Curtis..."

"Just start shovelling, let's get out of here. I want to leave, now."

"Wait."

"No!" Curtis turned to stare at the other boy, his eyes wide with disbelief. "He's not an exhibit at a museum! We're burying him again, and we're not telling anyone about this!"

Simon squeezed awkwardly past him and knelt down, twisted awkwardly in the small space. He put a hand above Nathan's lips, reached for the I-pod, pressed its buttons. Curtis resisted the urge to kick him into reality, knock the horror of what they had done into him.

"Simon!"

"His battery's out of power," Simon murmured. "And I think he might be breathing."

For a few moments, Curtis was speechless. "You... you think? Simon, what the-"

And Nathan blinked. Simon surged up to his feet and flinched backwards so quickly that he almost lost his balance and fell into the coffin; Curtis snatched at his arm, frozen in shock. His first thought was 'zombie.' His second 'imagination'. Then his brain juddered into life again and he pushed past Simon, crouching where he had been. He snatched at Nathan's wrist with trembling hands. He felt the pulse flickering beneath his fingers, erratic and thready, but miraculously there. He shook his head in disbelief.

"You're alive," he breathed. "You're fucking alive."

Simon made a noise somewhere between a squeak and a grunt. Curtis shook Nathan's arm, and then suddenly realised how freezing the skin below his hand was. How Nathan stared straight through him, expressionless, blank. He leant closer, his stomach plunging, tapping the other boy's cheek lightly.

"Nathan? Nathan, come on, you're alive, I know you're alive, snap out of it. Nathan. Hey."

He slid his other hand between Nathan's shoulder blades and lifted him a little, tapped him a little harder. Nathan lolled in his grip, and then suddenly blinked again. He made a horrible rasping sound, one usually associated with the undead in 80s horror films, and then finally seemed to see Curtis leaning over him. He coughed.

"Y-You..." he rasped, his voice thin and weak. "... 'uckin'... di-dicks..."

Curtis grinned so widely he thought his face would split. Putting one arm behind Nathan's back to hold his listless body upright, he gestured with his free hand to Simon, who stood frozen and staring.

"Yeah, that's him!" he said. "Gimmie my coat. Simon! My coat?"

Simon started, and then climbed out of the hole dazedly. He threw down Curtis' jacket and remained kneeling above them, still shining the torch above their heads like some poor imitation of the sun at a children's play. Curtis put the coat around Nathan's shoulders, shoving his arms into its sleeves as roughly as he dared. Nathan gazed at him, his face still lax.

"Mm... fell 'sleep," he mumbled.

"Not asleep, man," Curtis replied, smirking. "Why, dream of me often?"

Nathan looked vaguely confused. Curtis felt a flicker of worry - where was the smart-arse attitude, the whining, the cock-sure sneer? And then a much more worrying thought hit him - what had Nathan been through in the past two weeks? He had effectively been buried alive. To wake up in a coffin was a nightmare Curtis could barely imagine. He glanced up at Simon, who had a distinctly 'rabbit in the headlights' look about him, and then rose awkwardly to his feet, dragging Nathan with him. Nathan's legs trembled, and then gave out. Curtis caught at him, grateful that the other boy was so skinny.

"Simon, help..."

Simon reached down, and together they somehow managed to heave Nathan's lifeless body up out of the grave, onto the damp grass above. Curtis scrambled after him and knelt in the mud, watching as Nathan's body jerked with shudders, his face twitching with short flickers of pain. He glanced quickly at Simon, who looked even more panicked than he did. He fought for the most pressing question.

"Where the hell do we take him?" he whispered, hoping Nathan was still too out of it to hear or understand him.

Simon shrugged, his face tight. "I-I don't..." He floundered for a moment, searching for words. "I... the community centre. That's where he was staying before."

"His stuff's still there? His bed?"

"They didn't know he was there, we left it all..."

"Okay." Curtis glanced around. "You fill the grave in, made it neat, I'll get him back to the centre."

"What do you think's wrong with him?" Simon asked, his gaze straying to Nathan once more. Curtis shook his head.

"Dunno. It'll pass, right? We don't know how his immortality stuff works." He hesitated, suddenly realising. "He's gonna need stuff... blankets, food, someone to stick with him..."

"Kelly's is closest," Simon murmured.

They shared a glance. Curtis hesitated. "Okay," he said eventually. "Just... just prepare her for it, yeah?"

"What do I say?"

"I don't know! Say... Don't know," Curtis hissed, shaking his head. He took hold of Nathan by the arms, heaving him up to his feet once more. He slung an arm over his shoulders, held tightly to Nathan's waist with one arm. "Come on, Nathan, give me a hand," he said loudly, jostling him lightly.

Nathan blinked, shook his head. His legs straightened, bearing some weight. And, as soon as Curtis took two steps, they caved in and had Nathan falling heavily against him, clawing a small grunt of pain from his lips. Curtis caught him once more, his anxiety heightening rapidly. He cast a meaningful glance back at Simon.

"Hurry, yeah?" he said.

Simon nodded.

And so Curtis tightened his grip on Nathan and began to move, bearing most of his weight, and growing more certain with every step that something was very wrong.

This night is going to be a long one for Curtis :) I'm mean. Hope you enjoyed it, reviews are welcome.

SUPRNTRAL LVR.