The growling snap jerked him awake. He couldn't see fucking shit. His mouth was as dry as the air surrounding him. Air now filled by the snarls of coyotes he realised foggily. He hurt, everyfuckingwhere.

His leg. Blood, he could smell blood. And he could hear the rending of flesh, the tearing of ligaments and the snap of newly dead bone. His brain tried to work out how he knew the difference between the snap of bone of someone newly dead versus someone who'd been dead for a while.

And how did he know it was a person who was dead? Couldn't it be an animal the coyotes were fighting over? Trying to move only makes him moan out loud.

Silence descends. Wrapping around him like a cold moist cloak. And then the growling starts again, he feels hot breath from blood-dripping jaws wash over him. It is fetid and rank. Like his own breath he thinks suddenly. Why was his own breath fetid?

Trying to move was a lesson in pain on pain. Everyfuckingthing hurt like a motherfucker. Minutes, maybe hours later he comes to again to the sound of flesh tearing. Feeling a tug on his leg he lurches and the warmth surrounding him scatters like leaves on the wind. But it doesn't go far.

His mind flits around, he'd been taken over the cliff by Devon's fucking prissy sorority girlfriend. Thought she was gonna die and take him with her. He laughed painfully. He fucking had news for her. He didn't fucking die. Even Lucifer wouldn't take him.

Focussing, Mac manages to move his fingers and toes. Though he can't move his right arm, the jagged snarls of pain that radiate from his collarbone tell him it's busted. Not to mention the leg. It was beyond fucked he thought. Slowly he stares at the stars twinkling happily down on him, his left hand moves down his body. Bringing his left leg up slowly as he moves at the same time.

After several false starts he manages to grip the cell phone he kept on him at all times hidden in his boot. He loses it several times as he brings it back up his body. Time passes as he fades out of consciousness again. When he regains it for the last time he sees the sky getting lighter.

He presses the power button on. And then takes too much time remembering the pin he'd set on it. He'd picked something obscure so Walter or Devon if they ever came across it couldn't crack it. It had one number in it. He hit redial.

"Doctor Johnson." His voice answers on the third ring. It sounds sleepy. Mac has no idea what the time is.

"'S me. Need help." He is finding it harder to breathe and he can no longer feel either of his legs.

"Where are you?" The voice is brisk now.

"Off a fucking cliff. Coyotes." Mac can say no more as the pain and cramps of withdrawal hit him now and he blacks out again.

He lies silent and still but alive under the sun as it rises and begins to bake the land around him.

##########

Hours later the sun is fading from the sky when desert coloured hiking boots stop beside Mac. The figure kneels and takes his pulse, timing it against the complicated watch on their wrist. Then they check his body for breaks. The leg they purse their lips over before they look up at Mac's face. It's pallid in the dying daylight.

They'll have to set it out here. With a compound fracture they're damn lucky he hadn't already died. The bites in the flesh tell him that Mac has been nibbled on already. They swiftly assemble the gurney they'd bought along and then taking a breath they poke and prod at Mac's leg making sure there are no other breaks.

Without warning they snap the bone back into place. Mac moans but doesn't wake. Sighing in relief they do the same with his collarbone. Then they bandage the leg, they'll stitch it when they're where they need to be. Now the only issue is internal bleeding and withdrawal. Slowly rolling Mac onto the stretcher they strap him in, pick up an end and begin the hike to the cave they know about.

When they get there they leave Mac on the stretcher and just stare at the set-up he had. If they ever needed confirmation he was batshit crazy this cave was it. Leaving Mac strapped they begin the disgusting work of cleaning what is going to be his home for the next while.

Good thing he kept shit around. He refilled the generator and made a list of what he needed to bring back. Then he looked down at Mac and shook his head. Manhandling the stretcher over to the bed he used leverage to slide Mac up onto the bed then roll him carefully to get rid of the stretcher.

After he's finished stitching, cleaning and redressing the wound the man looks down at Mac. He can't be left like he is. And so for the first time in his secret cave Mac himself is secured against freedom. Leaving a bottle of water by Mac's side, close enough he'd be able to get at it despite the restraints, the man stared down at Mac's now naked body. Shit, he had scratches and scabs everywhere.

"Fucking fucker." The man muttered before he grabbed his backpack and left.

##########

A day later he pulled up where it had been arranged that he would if he ever had to visit. He unloads the truck and then throws the beige camouflage netting over it. Taking up the sled he'd bought along to carry everything he slides the straps over his shoulders and begins the trek back into the cave and Mac.

When he gets there he lights the lantern. The water was gone, the cave stank of unwashed man. The metallic scent of Mac's detoxing body was almost a visible haze in the air. Waving his hand in front of his face the man checked Mac's leg. He frowned over the red inflamed skin. Then he hooked up the first of several IV bags he'd packed. Letting it hang from a hook nailed somehow into solid rock he cleans Mac up from his soiling himself, redresses his wound and then makes himself a meal.

Unpacking the cot he makes up his bed and lays down. Running through his list he catalogues everything he's done. Beginning to doze, he forces himself to stand and rinse and wash himself and clean his teeth with some of the water he'd brought back. Then putting out the lantern he lets his body slide into sleep.

Time has no meaning in the cave, his watch tells him what time of day it is along with the date but the time itself has no meaning. Three days pass before the IV bags are used and Mac still hasn't regained consciousness. He's not worried though. The man hadn't died from the push over the cliff top, he wasn't going to die from withdrawal, but when he came to, he was going to feel the hell of it though.

Which if he knew what he was doing, and he did would be in about another day. He checked the leg again, the redness was fading. He'd stitched the flesh and it would heal, not especially well given how long blood flow to nerves and muscles had been cut off. But Mac still had the leg and with work he should be able to use it again. He was just lucky he hadn't suffered any internal bleeding. The leg, the collarbone and some ribs were his injuries apart from scrapes and bruises and the physical shock of the fall.

##########

It is on the fourth day when the faint and decaying smell finally draws him. He'd been ignoring it mostly, but he was curious. Taking a torch and supplies he follows his nose quite literally. Winding down the tunnel he realises that the way had been marked with ultraviolet paint, going back he grabs the black light torch he'd seen and wondered about.

Following the marks for what feels like hours, the smell gets stronger. Eventually he comes to another cavern and the smell nearly overwhelms him. Covering his face he breathes shallowly. Whoever said breathing through your mouth worked was a fuckwit, all it made you do was taste the smell. He didn't care what anyone said, you could taste smell.

Edging slowly to the open hole in the floor he stops just shy of the edge and asks himself if he truly wants to know. Shaking his head and girding himself he cracks the glow sticks he's brought along and shaking them he drops them in. It was as he thought. A human refuse dumping ground. Seeing the bags of lime lining the wall he grabs some of them and opening them, dumps it in. Then he shakes his head and walks back to Mac.

It is a full week before Mac becomes lucid.

And violent.

The man eventually puts gloves on Mac's hands as he keeps picking at his own fingers or plucking at his thighs, the only part of his body he could reach. He force feeds him when he's not overly lucid, cleans him up repeatedly and listens to his howls and screams as he shudders along with Mac hearing his responses to the nightmares shaking his rickety mind even more.

##########

The straps are fucking infuriating him. He can't get himself loose. Better not be some bitch thinking she's having a good time at his expense. No, that's not right. There was something else, something he can't remember. When he sees who is standing beside him he realises something has happened, something monumental.

Because he would never call this man unless he had no choice. That was their deal.

"What the fuck happened?" His voice surprises him, it's thin and reedy, little more than a whisper. Feels like he hasn't used it in a while.

"You tell me, you called me, said and I quote 'off a fucking cliff, coyotes' and then you passed out. If I hadn't given you a phone with a tracker in it you'd be dead." The man is blunt as he draws up a stool and sits down. His long legs spread with his elbows resting on his knees.

They look alike though the man is lighter. It always surprises him to see his face to a certain degree on another man. He's used to never seeing anyone like that. Devon had his mother's looks so did…Reggie. Fuck.

"You see the bar? The girl?" He asks abruptly.

The man shakes his head. "Why would I go see Walter? And what girl?"

Mac curses when he tries to draw his hand up to rub it over his face. "Let me the fuck go."

"No, after you've detoxed, you need to get clean, you've already lost most of your fucking teeth. I'll be fucked if you OD on me Elvira."

"Don't fucking call me that." Mac snipes at the man, just like he'd done his entire adult life.

"I'll call you whatever the fuck I like, you call me at the crack of dawn, injured enough I need to take time off work and risk taking your life by moving you, I can't admit you to a hospital, all the shit I've been doping you with is off the books, I have to somehow find a way to explain that to the drug administration board if they find out, I'll call you whatever the fuck I like Elvira." By the time the man has finished his rant he is leaning over Mac's face close enough to kiss.

"Fuck off you fag." Mac answers him, their eyes connect and neither look away until Mac's suddenly close. "Let me fucking go."

"No." And with that he gets up and goes back to his cot.

Mac's murderous gaze follows him. Then he looks around. The man has cleaned up, he's brought his own cot and bedding, "How long have I been here?" He asks quietly.

Glancing over the man grins at him. "A week now."

Mac closes his eyes. His mind goes back over what he remembers. He remembers…Walter telling him they were coming back. He remembers Walter stopping him from beating on Devon in the bar. He remembers Reggie didn't remember him. At all.

He remembers the sheriff, the Indian dude, the blonde jock. And the fucking sorority girlfriend, Devon's beard. He'd followed Reggie, but he'd been obeying Walter when he'd killed the jock. The Indian had been all him though.

Fucker thought he could touch what was his. Didn't matter whether Reggie remembered she was his, the fact remained she was and he could prove it. Cursing when he tried to rub his hand over his face again Mac doesn't bother asking to be let loose.

"Fucker." He mutters. A snort is his only answer.

The ensuing days nearly drive him insane, the sheer loathing he has for the man who is actually saving his life grows daily, or so he thinks.

The skin-crawling withdrawal that he suffered seemed to increase exponentially with each day that passed without him having any meth. In only the darkest recesses of his mind Mac realises it's a good thing the man is doing.

But it is something he'll never thank him for.

##########

The man wakes one morning in silence. He lays with his eyes open in the darkness letting it envelop him. He heard nothing beyond his own breathing. And that thought jolts him up in bed so fast his head swims. He grabs the torch and switches it on. Shining it over to the bed he is relieved to see Mac lying and sleeping peacefully.

Peacefully, that was a misnomer if ever he heard one for Mac he thought sarcastically. Getting up he felt Mac's forehead, dry and cool. His pulse was a smidgen fast but nothing like it had been. Turning on the generator he switches on the lights and looks at the leg. No redness. Thank God.

Washing himself off, he dresses and cleans his teeth. He'll have to go for supplies soon or leave and take Mac with him. He doesn't know which yet.

"When you gonna untie me?" The voice is a soft, hoarse growl. And clear.

"Who am I?" He turns back to Mac after pulling on some hiking shorts over his underwear and walking back to Mac's bed.

"A fucking fag." Mac answers him. The man shakes his head and turns away. He's making them something to eat when there is a huff of breath and then, "Seth." The man smiles but it doesn't show on his face when he turns around.

"Your full name?" He asks simply.

"MacQuade Johnson." Mac answers promptly.

"Occupation?"

Mac snorts. "Mechanic and cook."

This time the man snorts. "Wife's name?"

"Fucker." Mac grunts this time and the man raises his eyebrows.

"Father's name?"

"Walter, you fuck as you know."

The man shrugs. "I may know, I'm testing you. As you know." Sitting down now with a bottle of water that he opens and gives to Mac he sits back in his chair. "So, tell me what happened, from the beginning."

He watches Mac look at him, stare at him like he was something he was dissecting in his head. Which for all Seth knew he was.

"How the fuck am I supposed to drink this?" Mac asked irritatedly.

Seth grins, "After everything you've done to those women in the pit over the years I expect you're fully aware of how to drink that water nephew."

"Don't fucking call me that!" Mac threatens as he proves he does know how to drink the water. Shoehorning himself around onto one hip he contorts himself on his side and then manages to bring his shoulders down enough to get his mouth around the bottle. Then he raises it and drinks the water down.

Seth watches him companionably as he drinks his own water in the traditional way. Mac was lucid enough to be let go. But he still couldn't cope on his own. When Mac had finished the water he lays back down again with a sigh. Sweat is sheening his body. He was on the mend, but he still had a way to go.

"Price of release, tell me how and who got you fucked up like this." Seth's voice is soft, barely above a whisper, no one but Mac and his own significant other would recognise the singular menace that was threaded through it. If the people of Cainville thought Mac was a holy terror, they had no idea the hell an angry Seth could rain down on them.

"I'll take care of it." Mac answered simply.

"No, not yet, not on that leg. You want to take care of it, of them I don't have a problem with that, but you're going to have to wait a fair while, months." Seth finishes his water and stands. "And tonight we're out of here, you're well enough to travel and I need to get back to work before I lose my job."

Beginning to pack, Seth let Mac think on what he'd said. He spoke just as Seth finished breaking down his cot and packing it on the sled. "How bad was I?"

"Bad enough that you had to be restrained, why the fuck did you start using in the first place?" Mac shakes his head. Seth sighs. "Whatever, you're going have to come home with me, stay with us for a few months at least, that way I can work and track your recovery and Reece can do your rehab at home."

"That fag is not fucking touching me." Mac growls. Seth stops and looks at him.

"Don't worry nephew, fucking men isn't catching." He chuckles but it's a mean sarcastic chuckle. A shudder rips down Mac's spine.

He was hearing himself he knew. Fuck. "Have you been to the bar?" He asks, deliberately changing the subject.

"Why would I go see Walter? You know I'd just fucking kill him." Seth stops what he's doing and sits down again looking at Mac. "You need to tell me what the fuck happened, now." His tone is firm and the way he settles himself tells Mac in no uncertain terms that he's not moving until he's been answered to his satisfaction.

"Get me that box over there, the wooden one. Mac gestures over to a cupboard. Seth stands and goes to it. When he comes back he looks at Mac before he sits down and then leans forward and with one hand loosens one of Mac's wrist restraints.

Then he places the box on Mac's bed and sits back again. Mac flexes his wrist and takes the glove off with his teeth, then watching Seth carefully like prey watches for that which is hunting it, he carefully reaches across his body to undo his other wrist. Seth lets him.

Breathing what he hopes is an unnoticeable sigh of relief Mac then sits and goes for his legs. "Leave those for now, you can't move that leg yet anyway." Mac hesitates and then pulls the blanket back.

"Fuck." He says softly as he looks at the mess that was his leg.

"Yeah, you did screw it up well." Seth says quietly. "Like I said Reece will need to do rehab on you. You don't have a choice about coming home with me." He says no more on the subject merely gestures to the box. He already knew what was in there, he'd opened it when he was cleaning to see if it was something to toss away. But this was Mac's story to tell.

And so he did. His voice a monotone Mac told his story, from when he was eighteen, on to when Reggie had been seventeen and then eighteen herself. He opened the box and showed Seth the contents. And all the while Seth watched him carefully. Silently his mind negotiating possibilities and probabilities like the steel trap it was.

When Mac finished he stayed silent for some time. He watched as Mac lay down again and closed the box, resting it on his chest.

"She's yours then huh?" He questioned after a time.

"Yeah, her fucking mother traded her life for her daughters, like it was fucking nothing." Mac's words were incensed.

"It happens." Seth shrugs with little thought. He didn't know Regina or her mother or her brother. Though, "You do realise you're going to have to kill them? You're not going to get her back without doing that?" He says bluntly to Mac.

He snorts at the feral grin that crosses Mac's face. "What was I thinking?" He murmured more to himself. "Another reason you need to come home with me, you need to be in top form in every way, if they're doing to her what you think she's going to need you in every way, every way MacQuade. Do you understand me?" He questioned quietly.

Mac might be a narcissistic psychopathic but if he had property he took care of it. Or he used to. Given that he'd thought of this girl Regina as his property and how long he'd thought of her as his property she might be worth hanging onto. Seth had noticed even though Mac didn't, that he settled as he spoke about her.

Looking at the old white bite mark on Mac's neck Seth suddenly realised she'd given it to him. Well fuck. Taking a deep breath he began the arduous task of repacking everything. He left Mac to drag the sled back to the truck. Packing everything in, he put the netting back over the vehicle and then took the now empty sled back to the cave.

Mac was dozing when he returned. Seth woke him, dressed him, and manhandled him onto the sled and then making sure there was nothing identifying either one of them he switched off the generator and made sure the fuel lines were off. He left the fuel, something told him Mac would be back.

Dragging a dead weight through the caves he didn't speak and thankfully neither did Mac. Seth was just grateful he'd reined himself in and was cooperating. He didn't expect that to last, he just hoped he'd be able to think of ways to talk him around until he was as healed as he was going to be. He knew Mac hadn't yet realised the exact damage to his leg.

When he did though the shit was going to hit the fan and then some. "Fuck my life." Seth muttered to himself as he dragged Mac's reclining body through the cave.

"No thanks, like I said I'm not a fag." Seth snorted but said nothing, he didn't have the breath for it anyway. But he determined that when he was home the first thing he was going to do was fuck the living shit out of Reece as long and as loud as he could, just to get Mac's goat.

Ungrateful shit.

Getting Mac into the backseat took a wrenched muscle on Seth's part and a lot of sweating and swearing. But Mac surprised Seth by doing nothing more than curse the situation. He made no complaints.

Once Mac was settled with the wooden box sitting securely on the floor where he could reach it easily Seth gets in and starts the engine. He'd packed the camouflage netting in the back with the supplies he was bringing home. Putting on the water for the windscreen he washed away the weeks of accumulated dirt and dust and then he looked at Mac sitting behind him, his back was resting on the passenger door, his legs stretched out in front of him.

"You ready Elvira?" He asked, this was going to be a painful trip, Mac's addiction meant he had an extremely high tolerance for medication and Seth wasn't dosing him up to get him home. He could fucking well live with it. No way was he getting addicted to anything else on his watch. His sister, Mac's mother would fucking kill him.

"Don't call me that." Mac muttered as he settled his back against the pillow Set had shoved between his back and the door.

"Sure thang Miz Daisy." Seth mockingly saluted Mac as he put the truck in gear and engaged the four-wheel drive.

What feels like hours later Seth's head is throbbing from Mac's incessant cursing and punching the back of the passenger seat. He'd only made the mistake of punching the back of Seth's once.

The headlights flash across the road ahead and Seth nearly weeps at the relief. "Thank fuck." He says to himself. Disengaging the four-wheel drive he gets onto the blacktop heading south. Driving through the night when it's cool they stop only for gas.

"Don't even try it, unless you need to take a shit I'm not moving you out until I'm home." He says. The look in Mac's eyes tells him he's thinking seriously of gutting him. "Fucking try it and I'll finish the job your sorority bitch started." He says calmly.

It is only that Mac sees himself in Seth's eyes he knows that stops him. They are two peas in a pod after all. Seth had just learned how to harness his baser instinct.

For the most part.

When they pass into Arizona the sun begins to rise. Seth drives on and notices Mac has dropped off. "Thank fuck." He mutters again. Digging out his cell phone he calls Reece and estimates their arrival. Reece tells him the spare bedroom is already set up.

He doesn't say anything other than yes when Seth tells him to prepare himself as well. Reece knew him, accepted him. He'd started his own business because of him. It allowed him the freedom to take time off when he needed it. When Seth went overboard and played too hard.

"Thank you baby." He says quietly.

"Anytime." Reece answers as he disconnects the call.

Arriving home midmorning is nothing but a relief to Seth, but he still has work to do. He wakes Mac as he drives around to the back of his house. He'd bought land, didn't do anything with it, but he needed the space, they needed the space. Sometimes what happened around them didn't need witnesses.

Reece steps out onto the deck as Seth pulls up, passenger door closest to the steps. He walks down and looking inside makes sure Mac has gripped the seat before he opens the door.

"Hey Mac." He speaks softly as he always does. His hands grip Mac before Mac can say anything and haul him out gently. As he's pulling he looks over at Seth as he comes around. "Can he bend the leg?"

"He can, but he shouldn't, remember to keep it as straight as you can Mac." Seth says to him, he stands by and as soon as Reece clears Mac's body he slides his hands underneath and supports Mac's thighs and then his calves as they clear the vehicle. "Got to piss and shit I assume from all the groaning you did before?" Seth asks. He smiles at Reece's snort of laughter.

"Yeah fag I do." Reece inhales sharply. Seth grins mirthlessly.

"A word of advice, fag doesn't bother me, it bothers Reece, so if you're going to continue to use it he'll piss in every drink he brings you, every dish of food he cooks for you and more. So if I were you, I'd clean up your thoughts Elvira." He used his old nickname for Mac deliberately.

Knowing Mac hated it, if he went the way Seth thought he would he'd bargain for him to stop using that in return for him not using fag.

It wouldn't work, but it would be fun for Mac to try. He didn't have issues with the word fag, but Mac would learn soon enough that he and Reece were two different people.

With Mac settled on the toilet Seth grabs Reece. "I fucking missed your face." He said softly as his lips took Reece's. Opening his mouth on Reece he sucked his tongue back into his mouth. Reece tasted like oatmeal and tea and Reece. Groaning Seth pushed Reece back against the wall as he ground his hips into him.

Feeling Reece's answering hardness only made him groan more. "Fucking cut that shit out." Mac called. Reece broke away and laughed even as his hands skated down and inside Seth's cargos. He palmed his backside as he looked down slightly at Seth and then with a smile he sank to his knees.

"Oh fuck, close your fucking ears Elvira." Seth called out as he spread his legs for Reece to work and rested his palms on the wall in front of him. He let his head hang down, eyes open and unblinking so he didn't miss a thing. Reece giving head was one of his favourite things to watch.

Moaning Seth felt Reece's wet mouth suck him down. "Fuck, I missed you baby." Reece murmured an agreement as he sucked Seth's cock down. Seth growled when Reece tried to tease him. "No, just make me come now. I need it, need you to." He said.

Obeying Reece began to suck him, hard and fast, his cheeks hollowing more with each sucking bob of his head. Seth watched his mouth open in a silent moan of pleasure. He saw drool literally drop out of his mouth in a long glistening spiral and land on Reece's shoulder.

The thought that finally after so long his cock was in Reece's warm and welcoming mouth was too much. Seth felt his balls draw up tight and just as Reece's fingers skated over his perineum brushing his piercings there he boiled over in orgasm. Reece tugging on the rings made him shout his pleasure.

He ignored Mac's cursing from the bathroom as he stayed exactly where he was and basked in the afterglow that only Reece could give him.

Pushing a hand away he grabbed Reece's shirt and pulled him up. Tilting his mouth over Reece's, Seth chased the taste of his come. He smiled into the kiss when Reece shared the mouthful he'd kept.

"I have to go, I have clients today." Reece said eventually. They pulled apart and Seth looked at him, all bronze gilded skin from his constantly being in the sun. His straight black hair pulled back loosely at the nape of his neck. His perfect face that had graced countless magazine covers.

"God, you're beautiful. I can't get over how beautiful you are. And that you stay with me." Seth said softly. He leaned up and kissed Reece one more time before he pulled back. "Bring home dinner tonight?" He asked. "I doubt I'll be up for cooking." Reece nodded.

"Was going to." He straightened his clothing and laying one last soft, lingering kiss on Seth's lips he walked back down the kitchen and gathered his things and looking back once with a smile he left Seth and Mac alone for the next several hours.

Making a mental note to reciprocate and then some for Reece tonight Seth went into the spare bedroom and opened the bathroom door. He grinned seeing Mac still sitting on the toilet, leg thrust awkwardly in front of him and a towel wrapped around his head.

"You fucking, I fucking swear…" Seth shook his head and interrupted Mac.

"I've heard you say it all before Elvira, now." He paused making sure he had Mac's attention. "Fancy a bath?"