He was well acquainted with the concept of fear. He had spent most of his life in fear. That was why he indulged in such fantasies. It felt good to be in control for once. To be the one causing fear, not the one living in it. He'd first gotten a taste of it in Vietnam when he killed his first Viet Cong soldier. That was when he believed it truly started. Or, perhaps it could've started in eighth grade when he hit a kid in the face with a skateboard and broke his nose. In his defense, the boy had called him a rude word. He didn't like that.

But this was different. The boys he killed. He believed that they showed true fear on the brink of death. He loved the way their eyes would widen. The way their breath hitched in their throats. He loved how they would flush, the rosiness rising to their skin. It was beautiful.

But again, this was different. This was a challenge, this wasn't fear. This was a fight. This was a fight for dominance, without fear, or perhaps driven by it. Either way, he was the one now running for his life.

The first time he saw him was in a photograph Luke had shown him. They had just been deployed. The boy was eleven at the time. But even then he believed he knew. That one day, he would like to meet this boy of angel blonde hair and blue eyes.

And now that he had finally met him… this was not the boy of his dreams. He tried to run but it was futile.

The boy's eyes were filled with rage. His body dripped blood onto the floor. His skin which had always been soft and golden in his dreams was now pale and showed through it the streamlined muscles of his arms and back. They were tense and foreboding, a reflection of the boy's anger and fear. That bloodshot, blue-eyed gaze was still on him, full of hatred.

He'd just barely dodged two blows from the dull-headed ax. And he was hoping that the boy's lack of food and water over the course of the past few days would hinder his ability to hit him. If not that, then hopefully his morals.

One swing missed him and splintered a wall. Another just barely missed and shattered a nightstand and an old vase that sat upon it.

Allen stumbled and fell onto his back, looking up one last time as the ax was raised. He flinched as he heard it strike the concrete floor, only to look up to find that it rested between his legs, Bo staring down at him, his expression conflicted.

He didn't have what it took to take a human life.

Allen breathed somewhat of a sigh of relief, moving to stand, watching as the boy reeled away, out of reach, dropping the ax. Only, he picked up a shard from the broken vase, holding it out in front of him.

And now the tables had turned. The fear had returned. But he was still at quite the stalemate. Allen tried to round on him. Bo followed. The two of them circled, Bo not taking his eyes off Allen. Allen not taking his eyes off Bo.

The remnants of the vase crunched beneath Bo's bare feet, drawing blood. But the two of them continued to circle, until finally, the Duke boy decided to strike.

He came forward, like a flash of lightning, arm outstretched to stab and slash. And Allen caught him by the wrist. The boy struggled against his hold in vain, Allen easing the two of them to the floor. As he did, he bent Bo's wrist, forcing him to drop the porcelain shard. He felt the Duke boy's frame start to shake and he began to cry. He wrapped an arm around him, bringing him into a close hug. As the boy began to cry harder, Allen found himself grinning, stroking his hair soothingly.

"It's all right, kid," he said softly. "It'll all be over soon."

The farmhouse was quiet in the night, the night after a strenuous search. Those who hadn't actively searched monitored the phone and CB radio, asking around in case anyone had any information whatsoever.

General slept on the living room sofa. Though it wasn't a sound sleep. Clayton, from the ceiling, noticed that the form twitched and writhed in his sleep. Luke was awakened not a moment later, by Clayton that is. And the two of them observed the Defect twitching and mumbling in his sleep.

"Do we wake him up?" Clayton whispered to Luke after a moment.

Luke shook his head. "No, just wait. With any luck, he'll have somethin' for us when he wakes up."

I don't wanna include any sort of 'meanwhile…' but here it is anyway. Let's take a look inside General's head.

It was familiar but at the same time wasn't. It was dark, but neither cold nor warm. As he walked, he found himself on a concrete floor, the lighting dim. And he found him there, sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall. His face was raised, a cascade of blood and bruises. The rest of him was, too. His knuckles were scabbed, his wrists blistered. His skin was raw, red track marks running down it in the mix with the bruises and the blood. And even through all this, when he saw him. He smiled.

General stood over him, his stomach in knots. Why couldn't he feel the pain? Why hadn't he felt it? What had that savage done to this boy?

"I was wonderin' when you'd show up," he drawled.

His words were slurred and he seemed to be in a sort of daze, maybe drugged. He slowly knelt in front of him, resisting the urge to touch him. To comfort him. "Bo, tell me, where are you? Please, tell me how to find you."

The blonde Duke grinned, head rolling back. "I'm in the house of the risin' sun, General."

General sighed and reached out, realizing his hands were shaking. "No… no you're not, Bo." He gingerly touched his fingertips to the boy's bruised cheek. "I need you to think, I need you to remember. Where are you, Bo?" Bo's breath was heavier now, and his eyelids were drifting shut. General shook him. "Stay with me, kiddo."

His head moved back and forth. "No… I don't know."

"Bo, please, I need you to think. Is there anythin' you can tell me that'll tell me where ya are?"

The boy's voice was fading. He was waking up. "The woods… he'll let me bleed out. We're gonna die, General."

General shook his head. "Not if I have anythin' to say about it," he growled.

Just then, there was a sudden, sickening crack! And General woke with a scream. He felt the pain of it this time, burning through his skin. His chest heaved, and his heart pounded in his ears. He jolted upright, Luke and Clayton jumping, startled.

General was on his feet within a second, wrenching his jacket off and pulling his shirt up, revealing a hot, red mark on the skin over his ribs. His breath hitched in his throat, gaze looking up to meet the other two in the room.

"What the hell is that?" Luke asked. "What happened? Did you see him? D'you know where he is?"

General slowly lowered his shirt, still shaken. He swallowed hard, trying to get words out. "Uh… he… Luke, we ain't got much time left."

Luke nodded. "Then we go out first thing tomorrow morning."

General shook his head. "No, we go out now."

"General, it's dark, we ain't gonna find anythin'."

"You wanna get out there and look with a flashlight and my headlights, or d'you wanna wake up in the mornin' and find me dead on this couch, 'cause that's what's gonna happen!"

Luke hesitated for a moment, sharing a glance with Clayton. Finally, he sighed, gesturing towards the kitchen. "Go wake up Thunder and Diablo, we'll get Cooter."

General nodded and the three of them dispersed.

Am I the only one who don't think this's a good idea? Hell, even if it was, there's a lot of woodland to cover. Friends and neighbors, I don't think it's lookin' too good for ol' Bo.