This one is a Holt-centric one, inspired by the song "Drive, He Said" by Steve Taylor. I don't know if you can find the song anywhere any more, but it's a good song and I would recommend it.

"Just Drive, Boy!"

rated T for abusive relations and talk of murder; Holt is either human or monster, depending on how you want to see him. Jackson also features as his half-brother, and so does the unavoidable Mr. Hyde.

Scratch! Evil eye

'Step on it boy, if you want to stay alive' he said

'Don't look surprised, you know what I want!

I've lived for years inside your trunk, so drive' he said

'Let's get talking business, son – you ain't fooling anyone

I know just what you want to be – now it's time to work for me, so drive'

Holt happily sang along with the 'Steve Taylor' cassette that he'd thrown into the deck of his old car as he drove on through the night. It was so good to listen to someone else's tunes every once in awhile, rather than always being the one doing the performing.

It had been awhile since Holt had gotten a break from his rock star lifestyle, and, when his agent told him that he had no gigs scheduled for the next few days and when his old buddy Jackson had called him up and invited him over to catch up on old times...

He just couldn't resist.

It was the middle of summer, and it was becoming more and more difficult to get some time to himself, what with everyone being outside and wanting to go places. He was always booked up with gigs and concerts, but not today.

Nope. This weekend it was just gonna be plain old Holt Hyde and his best friend ever, his half-brother, Jackson Jekyll. The two were brothers and had grown up very close together, and not even riches and fame and long distances could get in the way of their relationship.

Holt smiled to himself at the thought of being able to just hang out with Jackson and being able to just be himself. Not the rocker that his fans wanted, not the perfectly-well-behaved young man that his mother had always wanted, and certainly not the man his father had always wanted him to be.

Just like him.

A 'ding!' from the dashboard alerted Holt to the fact that his car was almost out of gas. No big deal. There was a gas station every couple miles along this big highway.

He had just finished filling up the gas tank when he felt a sensation of sorts; something that made his entire body sit up and take careful notice of his full surroundings.

This was exactly the way he'd always felt whenever his father came home from 'taking care of business,' as he jokingly put it.

Yellow eyes flashing around wildly, Holt's gaze finally landed on the rear view mirror to his left, where he saw an all-to-familiar figure.

Holt groaned as he turned to the man who climbed into the car, slithering into the passenger seat right beside him.

"Are the cops after you again, Dad?" Holt whispered, assuming that his father simply needed a getaway car and hadn't even noticed who the driver was.

Mr. Edward Hyde glanced over towards the young man in the driver's seat, a wicked grin passing over his face. "Just drive, boy."

For an instant, Holt wondered if he should play dumb. Pretend he didn't recognize his own father, of whom he'd grown up in constant fear... Pretend he couldn't drive even though he had a license and was sitting behind the wheel of his own car... Pretend that he didn't understand what his father wanted him to do, even though the order had been plain enough.

He shook his head; playing dumb wouldn't work, and it really wasn't an option.

Instead, he asked a question as he slowly pulled out from the gas station, deciding to the take the country back roads rather than the highway. "What do you want, Dad?"

An evil laugh escaped his father's green lips. "I thought you'd never ask..."

"I need to escape the law, and you have a car. It's that simple, boy!" Hyde snickered.

Holt sighed unhappily. "What did you do this time?"

"Oh, nothing much. I only killed a man with my bare hands in broad daylight. It's so pathetic how people can see someone die, which they must do eventually themselves, and they still get all shook up about it."

Holt shuddered, not liking the concept at all.

This small movement did not go unnoticed by Hyde, who turned his steely gaze on his son. "Oh, don't tell me that you haven't ever wondered what it feels like to take the life of another... to feel their life ebb away beneath your fingertips..."

"I'm not like you!" Holt cried out in anger, pulling the car away to the side of the road and stopping for a moment.

"If you know what's good for you, you'll start this car up again as quickly as possible if not sooner!"

"I am my own person, and I respect the rights of the people around me! I'm not a heartless crook like you are, for which I am quite thankful!"

His father actually snorted. "Don't think you're so different from me, boy! Apples don't fall too far from the trees they grew on. Besides – don't think I didn't see that little newspaper article about how a certain rock star named 'Holt Hyde' got himself drunk after a concert and tried to kill a punk he met in the streets on his way back to the hotel!"

Fear flashed through Holt's yellow eyes for a moment as he remembered. It was the only time he'd ever gone to jail, and he'd never felt more guilty or miserable.

It only by the intervention of Jackson that he'd managed to not kill the guy.

"That... that was several years back..." Holt whispered. "I didn't kill him... I did my time, I helped him, I made things right again... And that was the last time I went drinking, especially on nights like that when I'm in a bad mood. That was the only time I came close to killing someone, and I had no control over myself. It's over, I've been forgiven, and I can go back to being a normal person now!"

"Oh, please!" Hyde openly laughed. "You could never be one of the 'good guys,' boy! You're too much like me! Don't act like you don't know that! You've got sin and darkness in your heart, and it'll consume you sooner or later."

He turned back to the road with a gesture of his hand. "Now drive, boy."

Holt swallowed and steered the car back onto the road, picking up speed again. Yes, he had tendencies towards badness, but he'd always kept himself from doing anything bad. He didn't hit his girlfriend, he didn't cuss at his agent or mistreat any of his fans... He worked so hard to be good.

Was it all for nothing?

Would he really end up just like his father one day? A wanted man that did every crime he could think of and then some? A person that no one wanted anything to do with?

He bit his lip, wondering how long this nightmare was going to last.

"I'll drive you for a few more miles," Holt said, breaking the silence. "But then I want you out of my car and out of my life for good! Do you hear me? I want nothing more to do with you ever again!"

The only response he got was a cringe-worthy smirk of amusement.

Holt faced forward again, trying to ignore the sweat that was trickling down his neck and his forehead. "Oh my God... What am I supposed to do?!"

Hyde laughed, finding his son's act of openly praying rather stupid and amusing, and he saw Holt bite down on his lower lip again.

Holt put the cassette back into the tape deck and turned the volume up really high, hoping to drown out anything more that his father might say. He sang along with Steve Taylor some more, closing his eyes and pretending that he was alone in the car again.

This illusion was shattered by his father hitting him on the shoulder. "Don't ignore me, boy!"

That was when something just snapped.

Holt had had enough.

He was driving along at a good clip and gaining speed quickly, but now he hit the brakes with all his might.

His father hit his head hard against the dashboard, then lay in a crumpled sort of heap in the seat.

Holt scowled as he scrambled out of the car, grabbing all of his stuff and shoving it into his duffel bag that he flung over his shoulder. "That's what you get for not playing it safe and wearing your seatbelt."

Turning, he headed back towards the gas station, deciding to make that small journey on foot. He didn't even blink when police cars passed him by, lights flashing and sirens blaring.

He approached the payphone at the gas station, dialing a familiar number, humming the tune of Amazing Grace as he waited for the phone to get picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Jackson... I might be a little late coming in tonight... I need to see about renting a car, so... don't wait up. Later, bro."

I started humming 'Amazing Grace' / He said 'come on, boy, give me a break'

So I hit the brakes with both my feet / And sent two horns through the bucket seat

Then the locks shot up as the grace came down / I said 'here's the keys – I'll be walking back to town'

The End.

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