By the time they'd made it out of the city and down Evergreen Street—why it was called a street nobody could quite understand, for it was barely a dirt path—the sun was beginning to set. When they had hurriedly left the hospital the sun's light had been a bright, exhausting yellow, but now it had dimmed to a dull orange. Matt, Adam, Randy, and John rode in Matt and Jeff's Mustang—Randy and John were squished in the back seats, but they hadn't complained. Both were far too concerned for Jeff's safety to be worried over something as trivial as leg room.
Mark and Hunter had somehow climbed into Hunter's rented Camaro, and they were following closely behind the Mustang. The trip had been in almost complete silence: the only time any of them spoke was when Adam gave Matt directions. And who could blame them for the silence? Matt's brother, Randy's boyfriend, Adam's ex was held hostage by a psycho who clearly had a violent streak. If he was crazy enough to kidnap Jeff, there was no telling what he'd done to him in the several hours he'd had Jeff to himself.
"Did he say how far it was?" Randy grumbled, leaning forward, between the two front seats so he could look Adam in the eye.
"No." Adam said sadly, shaking his head. The poor guy was still deathly white, and he was constantly chewing on his lip in a way that made him look like he was scared of his own shadow.
"Damn." Randy growled leaning back, "I swear, if he even touched Jeff I'm going to beat his face into the ground."
"Not if I get a hold of him first." Matt hissed, his fingers turning white as he gripped the steering wheel.
"Well, if you two got Dave, then I guess I'll have to beat the shit out of Masters." Cena replied matter-of-factly.
"This isn't the time to be joking around." Matt snapped, his dark eyes narrowing as he glared at the dirt path in front of the car.
"Who's joking?" Cena asked, cocking his eyebrow, "I'm serious. Once I get my hands on Chris his own mother won't even recognize him."
Randy grinned despite himself, "And this is why you're my best friend."
"Hey, hey I think that might be it." Matt said suddenly, leaning forward as he tried to focus his eyes on the dark shape in front of them.
He lifted his foot off the gas pedal, allowing the car to gently slow down. About a hundred yards in front of them, the dirt path ended at what appeared to be some sort of wooden shack or cottage. Tall, dark trees lined the path, and those same trees encircled the house, casting an ominous shadow over it.
"Well…what now?" Matt put the car in park as it stopped, turning to his side so he could look at the rest of the group.
"Dave told me to go alone." Adam said softly with a slight tremble, "If I walk up with all you…he said he'd kill Jeff."
"So we won't walk up with you. Matt, kill the lights." John said, looking over at the older Hardy.
"We can't let him go in there alone!" Matt spat, but he reached over and flicked the headlights off, looking into the rearview mirror to make sure that Hunter did the same. He did.
"No, but if we go up there as group, who knows what Dave might do." John explained patiently, his blue eyes matching Matt's, "How about this: Adam goes in alone, and then we'll sneak up and get them when they don't expect it."
Adam nodded, "If you wait long enough, he'll think I really did come alone. Then we'll have the advantage of surprise."
"I don't like this." Matt frowned deeply.
"Me neither." Randy agreed, pale eyes narrowing, "What if he starts to hurt you and Jeff anyway? What if we're too late?"
"I guess…I guess we'll just have to t-take that chance." Adam answered sternly, his hazel eyes darkening, "This mess is all my fault…I got to fix this. No matter what."
"Adam—" Matt began, his face softening.
"I'll be ok." Adam managed to smile weakly. Turning, he placed his hand on the door handle and quickly pushed the door open.
"Adam." Matt spoke just as the blonde was stepping out into the orange, evening light, "Please, please be careful."
"I'll be ok." Adam repeated. He slammed the door shut and walked toward the shack, never looking back.
Jeff had never known so much pain in his life.
Dave had whipped him—literally; he had cracked a leather whip four times against Jeff's bare back. Something Adam had said on the phone had set Dave off, for that was when he did it. The pain was unbearable: as Jeff screamed, he'd turned to Masters, his green eyes flooded with tears, and begged him to help him. He'd begged him to do something to calm Dave down, but of course, Masters had done nothing to help him. The overly-tan crackhead had laughed at him, giggling with an intensity that only a person high off of drugs could maintain. Really, Jeff had thought later as he lay on the wooden floor in agony, he was a fool for even thinking that Masters would help him. The fucker had tried to rape him earlier…why on earth would he help him?
Dave and Chris had both left him alone after the phone call. That had been about two or three hours ago…and since then Jeff had done nothing but lay on his stomach, moaning in pain. The four lashes across his back were a bright, reddish-pink. The torn flesh had bled steadily at first, but the wounds were shallow. The red streams of blood had ended rather quickly, though the pain had never dulled. In fact, as the cuts sealed up and Jeff's body attempted to repair itself, the pain seemed to intensify. The shooting pains in his back were now so strong that they were making Jeff sick to his stomach. He almost wished Dave would hit him in the head again…knock him out, give him some peace. But he could never be that lucky.
Then came the knocking.
Three sharp raps against the wooden door.
Despite his rolling stomach and the agony that was his back, Jeff looked up, his jade eyes widening. No…it couldn't be… Adam couldn't be stupid enough to actually come, could he? Didn't he know what Dave was going to do to him…to them both? Jeff grimaced as he tried to sit up, but the pain was too intense. He slid back down to his stomach, his red hair cascading around his face. Dave stood up, an excited glint in his eye as he walked across the room. Even Masters seemed to perk up a bit; the dumb druggie seemed to sense that everything was about to happen.
Dave quickly swung the door open and stepped back, allowing the lanky blonde to step in.
"Well, well, well." Dave smirked as he slammed the wooden door shut, his brown eyes shamelessly roving across Adam's body, "I didn't think you'd actually come. Maybe you're not the little bitch I think you are, Adam…"
Adam opened his mouth like he was about to respond, but then his eyes caught sight of Jeff. Letting out a small gasp, Adam rushed forward, dropping to his knees at Jeff's side.
"Jeffy! Oh…oh my god…" He kneeled down next to the smaller Hardy, the blood draining from Adam's face as he looked down at the redhead. The poor thing had four, huge bleeding lines across his back that were already swelling and puffing up. The Enigma looked up at his ex-boyfriend, and Adam whimpered lowly as he saw the anguish in Jeff's emerald eyes.
"Jeffy…Jeffy…" Adam keened as he reached forward, pushing the dyed hair out of Jeff's eyes.
"Addy…s'ok…" Jeff winced as he looked up at Adam, tears streaming from the corners of his eyes.
"I'm sorry…I'm so, so sorry…" Adam blinked rapidly as thick drops of water began leaking down his cheeks.
"Well isn't that cute." Dave said as he gave an ugly sneer, "Chris, take care of Adam."
The blonde yelped as Masters suddenly grabbed him by the hair and yanked him up to his feet, pulling him away from Jeff and turning him toward Dave. Adam struggled, but Chris had an iron grip on his hair.
"You know, I don't understand you Adam." Dave scowled as Chris forcibly turned Adam's blonde head toward Dave, "You could have had me…me! But you always refused to leave that." Dave finished by pointing his finger toward Jeff, who was looking at back at Dave with an equal amount of hatred.
"You could've just made this so much easier for everyone if you just would've broken up with that slut and been with me." Dave continued, looking angrier and angrier with each word, "What the fuck does that little twink have that I don't?"
Dave suddenly pulled his thick hand to the side. Letting out a grunt of effort, he swung his hand backward, furiously backhanding Adam across the face. The blonde squeaked in pain and surprise as Dave's open hand connected with his face, and immediately the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.
"You're so fucking stupid, you know that?" Dave huffed, glaring at Adam with a scary intensity, "You really thought you could break up with me and get away with it? Well…you've learned your lesson now, haven't you?"
Adam didn't answer, he merely glared at Dave, not even moving to wipe the blood that dotted his lip.
"No." Dave growled, "I guess you haven't learned your lesson. Pity, I was actually going to keep you. But I can't if you're still a stupid little whore…"
Adam and Jeff both gasped loudly as Dave reached into the waistband of his pants and drew out a black, mean-looking revolver. To Adam's horror, Dave pulled the gun up into the air…and aimed it right at him.
"D-Dave!" Jeff gasped from where he was laying on the wood, "Please…please—"
"Shut the fuck up!" Dave roared, jerking the gun toward Jeff, "This is all your fucking fault! He should've been with me…but you fucked everything up!"
Jeff didn't answer as he stared up into the barrel of the shiny metal gun, he merely shut his mouth, his eyes staring up at Dave with a mixture of fear and hatred.
Adam fought against Masters, but the man wrapped his thick, well-muscled arms around Adam's thin frame, and no matter how hard Adam struggled, he couldn't escape the hold of the much larger, stronger man.
"You know," Dave hissed as he turned the gun back toward Adam, "I'm going to really enjoy killing Jeff. And I'm going to make you watch—"
It was then that—to Adam's intense relief—the door was suddenly slammed open. The looks of pure shock on Dave and Chris's faces were things of beauty as John Cena, Hunter, Randy Orton, Matt Hardy, and—this one seemed to surprise and scare them the most—Mark Calaway rushed in.
"Fuck!" Dave yelled as Randy reached him first. The Legend Killer tackled him to the ground, and they rolled back and forth across the wooden floor, both swinging madly at each other. Dave tried to aim the gun at him, but Randy grabbed him by the wrist and managed to hold him back, his white teeth bared as he pulled his fist back and punched Dave in the gut, grinning widely as the large man groaned in pain.
Cena ran forward to Jeff, quickly dropping down next him.
"Jeff…holy shit…" Cena's ocean-blue eyes widened dramatically as he looked down at his newfound friend. His entire back was a bloody mess, and he was ten times paler than normal, his face downright ghostly.
John gulped, "Fuck…Jeff, I'm going to get you out of here!"
"R-Randy…" Jeff moaned as he was scooped in John's arms.
"He's alright…he can take care of himself…" John replied as he held Jeff up wedding-style, "Jeff…I need you to hold on to my neck…"
"Randy…" Jeff repeated, his green eyes watering in worry as he watching his lover get thrown to the floor by Dave. Luckily, Randy jumped right back up, quickly spearing Dave to the ground. The two landed with an audible thud, and they went back to rolling on the floor, each fighting for dominance.
"I'll help him…but first," John grunted as he began jogging to the door, Jeff's tiny frame bouncing against his body, "First…I got to get you out of here!" He quickly carried Jeff out the door.
Hunter and Mark had both gone after Masters. Growling in pure rage, Mark had grabbed the man by the throat. Chris had immediately released Adam and swung his arms at Mark, but his puny little punches didn't seem to faze the Undertaker one bit. Howling in anger, Mark lifted Masters high into the air before slamming him down, smiling in satisfaction as Masters crashed into the wooden floor with a bloodcurdling scream.
Hunter had gotten a hold of him then. He'd leapt on top of Masters and started swinging, so furious that this little fuck would even dare to lay his hands on Shawn. He punched Masters once, twice, three times across the face, with each punch eliciting a scream of pain from the downed man. His face was soon mangled, so swollen and bloody that it was difficult to tell who he even was anymore. Mark had stepped forward then, dropping his foot down upon Chris. A series of snaps rang out as Masters's ribs were broken, and the man began sobbing, begging the two lovers for mercy.
While Hunter and Mark were having their fun with Chris, Matt had ran to Adam's side, quickly helping the blonde to his feet. They both ran to the door—Adam with his arm wrapped around Matt's shoulder for support. They passed Randy and Dave at that point, and Matt worriedly looked past Adam at the two warring men. Randy seemed to have control of the situation: he was straddling Dave and swinging his fists furiously. He caught the Animal in the abdomen, then the face, and then the gut again. Each hit landed hard, and Dave cried out in anguish with each punch. Deciding that Randy was handling himself fine, Matt swiftly led Adam out the door.
Hunter and Mark continued with their torture of Masters. The man was large and strong, but he was next to nothing against Mark and Hunter. They toyed with him like a cat would play with a mouse: Mark pulled Chris to his feet and shoved him toward Hunter. The blonde behemoth reacted quickly: rushing forward, he threw out his arm, clotheslining Chris straight to the hard floor. Masters fell hard, his thick body practically bouncing off the wooden floor. It was then that Mark noticed that Randy's fight was not going well.
Dave had, at some point, gotten on top of the Viper. His lip was bleeding, and he had two black eyes, but Batista seemed to take no notice of his pain as he swung at Randy. Mark winced as Dave's fist connected with Randy's cheek, but—to his surprise—Randy showed no sign of pain. He didn't even cry out. He merely growled with rage and swung back, his fist catching Dave in the gut. They rolled to the side then, but Dave was too quick. He stood up and his huge leg lashed out, crashing into Randy's side. Randy did cry out at that, rolling on to his side and clutching his abdomen in pain. Dave didn't continue the fight though: he turned and stomped out the door, the revolver shining in his hand. Randy scrambled to his feet, grimacing in pain as he did, but he sprinted out the door after Batista.
"Hunter…" Mark hissed, turning toward his lover.
The blonde had been giving Masters the Orton-stomp, but he looked up immediately at the sound of Mark's voice.
"Go help Randy." Mark commanded, turning toward Masters, "I'll finish this one."
The sight that met Hunter's eyes as he walked outside was enough to stop the breath in his chest.
Matt, Cena, and Adam were standing to the side. Well, Matt and Cena were standing, Adam was collapsed on the ground, his face pasty pale. It didn't take Hunter long to realize why: Dave was standing barely ten feet in front of Jeff Hardy…how on earth Jeff was standing, Hunter had no idea. Even in the dim lighting of the sunset he could see the angry red welts across Jeff's back. The boy looked so hurt, so scared, so sick…how could he possibly be standing? But he was…he had his two feet planted firmly in the grass, and he was staring at the black barrel of the gun that was aimed at him.
"Dave…Dave, don't do this." Hunter said quietly, stepping slowly toward the armed man.
"Shut up Hunter." Dave growled, his brown eyes darting back and forth, "This is all his fault…"
"Dave," Cena spoke up, his voice calm despite the danger, "Dave, think about this. You slept with his boyfriend, how could this possibly be Jeff's fault?"
"He kept Adam from me!" Dave roared jerking the gun toward the younger Hardy, "I loved him and he wouldn't let me have him!"
"Dave, if you really loved Adam, you wouldn't have hurt him this way." Cena replied reasonably, his face blank as he looked at Batista.
"He's mine!" Dave snarled, the veins in his neck straining as he roared, "Nobody else's! He's fucking mine!"
"Hurting Jeff won't make him yours, Dave." John said, shaking his head.
"You don't know anything!" Dave growled, "But with this slut out of the way, everything's going to change…"
Matt yelled out as Dave aimed the gun at Jeff, his finger curling around the trigger. Both Adam and Jeff cried out in shock and fear as not one, but two gunshots rang out, the noise loud enough to tear their ears open.
Everything happened so fast that later nearly all of them would have a hard time figuring out quite how it happened. As the gunshots sounded, there was a flash of color tearing in front of Jeff, and Jeff's small body was thrown to the side, a loud thud echoing out as he hit the grass. Landing on his stomach, Jeff quickly sat up, completely confused as to what happened.
Standing in front of him was Randy Orton.
"R-Randy?" Jeff whispered as he tilted his head to the side, red hair swinging as he looked up.
Randy didn't answer. It soon became obvious why.
Randy stood, looking down at Jeff. The redhead was sitting on the grass, looking up at him with a mixture of horror and disbelief. He opened his mouth…said something…but for some reason Randy's hearing had gone all muffled. He couldn't understand what Jeff said, and this scared him. Closing his blue eyes, Randy sucked in a deep breath, and then he grimaced, feeling a searing pain in his chest. Opening his eyes back up, Randy looked down at his own chest, tilting his head to the side in confusion.
He was bleeding.
Two bright red spots stained his white shirt, one probably an inch or two above his heart, and the other at about the same height, but more toward the center of his chest. Randy's eyes widened as he looked at the blood on his shirt. It was spreading. Quickly. Tearing his eyes back upward, Randy opened his mouth to say something, but he didn't really get a chance. There were black spots in his vision, and then all of a sudden he could feel the scratchy grass on his back, and he was staring up at a dark sky. His head was spinning then…the lights in the sky—stars?—were swirling around, hurting his eyes with their brightness. It was then that he noticed how deeply he was breathing…his chest was heaving with effort, but nothing seemed to be working… It was like something in him—something important—had suddenly been switched off. Slowly, Randy became aware that he was squirming, his entire body writhing with pain…he felt silly, like he was slithering like a snake…but he couldn't stop. Something wasn't working right…something wasn't working at all…
Three or four loud snaps rang out, noises so loud that they could've made Randy's ears bleed…but he barely noticed them. His mind was swimming…and he was seeing things… Jeff, Jacob, Jeff, Jacob, John, Jeff… Randy squeezed his eyes shut, and then hot tears were sliding down his cheeks, and that scared him—he didn't cry. He didn't cry for nothing. His chest was getting sticky…thick liquid was pooling underneath him, thick black liquid that was spreading too fast. Opening his eyes again, Randy stared at the sky…
Someone kneeled next to him. The redhead…
He was crying, crying even harder then Randy was. And then he was screaming…and Randy felt his hands on his chest…and the pretty redhead buried his face in Randy's shirt, not even caring that dark blood was staining his face as he did so. Randy suddenly realized that he wasn't breathing right. He was sucking in hard, but nothing was coming of it… The redhead was sobbing so loud it almost made Randy's ears hurt. And then there was a blonde and a brunette…a second blonde, as big as a house… Strong hands pushed on Randy's wounds, and he tried to roar in pain, but no sound escaped his throat.
Randy blinked his eyes one last time.
Jeff.
He fought, but, in the end, the darkness took him anyway.