He can't breath. His body spasms with the lack of oxygen and the view starts to flicker. The stars above blur together to a white mess, blinding as his body finally betrays him and the grip on the beast's shoulder starts to loosen. The only noise is the slowly retreating rush of blood in his ears, and the slurred mumble that wavers above him from time to time.

"It'll be over soon, dear," she whispers in an attempt to sooth him.

But it doesn't, he doesn't want it to be over. Not like this! Not this far from home, from his family... what will they think if he never comes back? His father will be heartbroken. And his mother-

A whimper escapes him, a final struggle, before the weight is pulling his whole body down.

As consciousness leaves him, the last thing to flash through his foggy mind is the overwhelming guilt, the knowledge that he had betrayed them. A last shaky rattle, and the world turns dark around him.

xXxXx

The city is slowly awaking with the sun rising behind the large buildings. They reflect her beams, spreading them over the still sleepy city and just slowly starting to chase away the cold of the night. The sky is clear, it looks like it's going to be a nice day. Full of hopes and chances. Scud would be disgusted if the irony of the situation wasn't amusing him so much. The filter of the cigarette between his fingers is cold. He hasn't taken a drag for minutes and so the tip has already gone out. He flicks it aside and pulls out a new one.

There's nothing else to do, really.

As he reaches for the lighter next to his feet, Scud glances at the rising sun. This is what he has been dreading for so long, it's what he wanted most and never thought to be able to see ever again. But here he was, alive and letting the sun warm his skin.

How much he wishes it to be different.

He hears the approaching footsteps and before anything, he says: "They won't come during day."

Missouri sighs. She's exhausted, has been staying up all night with him. Fear was what kept her awake, but now all she feels is annoyance.

"But after day comes night, eventually, and we have only so much time left to leave."

"Nothing's keeping you," he mumbles with another cigarette hanging between his lips. He forms a shield around the tip as the lighter's flame licks away at it.

"What's your problem?"

Her tone has taken a bitter note. They've been through this discussion over and over for the past few hours, but they never came far, quickly discovering that they had both clearly different intentions in mind. Missouri wanted to go and Scud wanted to stay. It couldn't be easier to understand, but the older woman refused to. It wouldn't bother him so much if she wasn't here. But she is, and that is his problem.

"Look," he starts, not believing he's giving in to her again. "You can go. That's what you want, right? So go then, I won't stop you. There's the door. You even have the keys!"

"I want you to come with me", she says with her stands on her hips, the garlic spray she had used on Mercury still in one hand.

Scud shakes his head.

"Why are you making this so hard?"

"Because I promised to take care of you," she spits. Not for the first time. Scud knows her motives, but he can't bring himself to care.

"And you did, for as long as you had to. Deacon's gone, you don't have to keep that promise anymore. Really, I'm sure he doesn't care. That's what dead guys do, they don't care."

Missouri snorts and falls silent. If only for short.

"We could go to that Alistair guy," she muses. "He could help you."

Scud flinches. Seeing Deacon's maker, the man who, technically, raised and protected him, is the last thing he wanted to do. He had accepted Scud because he was Deacon's pet, but since this isn't the case anymore, Scud doubted the man would have any sympathy left for him. Besides, he doesn't want to lead Anton onto their trails. This clusterfuck is his own. He doesn't want to imagine Moira's face when he walks through that door, alone and possibly putting her in danger.

"It's not their problem," he says, taking a quick drag.

They fall silent for the moment. Under them, snippets of noises start to rise. Cars, people's chatter, rising to a steady buzz with every passing minute. It was so much different from the echoes of the night that had become Scud's day. This, the life and the light and the warmth, was day. It was life, it was good. Why didn't he want the gift that has been made to him?

Deacon would be mad at him for giving this opportunity away, with such calmness. But the man he never knew would stay silent, even inside his head.

The carrousel of thoughts had gone quiet.

"There is nothing left," Missouri speaks softly. "The house, the ground... everything is gone. It's burned up, together with every soul inside. There is nothing left for you, Scud. It's time to go."

He chews on his chipped lips, tasting the bitterness of the next words on his tongue for a moment.

"Would you bring me there?" he asks and turns his head just barely. "To the place, I mean."

Missouri sighs. She has been expecting the question for sure.

"Scud..."

"You said it yourself, there is nothing left. And that's right! I have nothing left to lose. It's all gone."

He watches her as she draws a fine hand up to her face, resting it above her eyes as if to shield them from the incoming words.

"I know," she whispers then. "I know, I know."

"So?"

"Stop pestering me, boy! If you really want to get yourself killed, then that's your business, not mine. But I won't be the one to push you off the cliff! You wanna go? Go. Here, have the keys. Take them, take them! You really want to die so badly? You really want to go there and be ripped to shreds by Anton's minions? Fine, fine. Do so, I won't stop you! Such a stupid, stupid boy."

She snaps for air and turns away from him. Scud watches the tiniest tremble in her shoulders.

"I, uhm... I don't know the, uh, address. You gotta drive me."

"God, I hate you so much."

xXxXx

He doesn't know what he should expect, only that it should have included everything, including this.

Scud watches the tiny car round the corner and coming to a halt in front of him, not without giving an enthusiastic cough out of it's exhaust pipe. He leans down to get a better look onto the car's insides, eying the stubborn form of the steering wheel and dashboard.

"Is this safe?"

Missouri is pursing her lips. "You lived with a bloodthirsty undead man for a whole month and you ask me if my car is safe?"

"Uhm, I..."

"Just get in."

The ride goes relatively easy, if Scud forgot about the elder woman's driving style of not rounding the corners but almost taking them with them. But when they arrive, in one piece, a weird silence falls upon them.

The engine stops and mutes, with a sigh Missouri leans back.

"Well, here we are."

Scud looks down the road ahead of them, a dark forest path, leading into foggy darkness without giving away it's destination.

"This is it?" he whispers.

"This is it," she replies. "That's the end of the line, boy."

Scud turns to her, surprised. "You're not coming?"

"Hell no!" Missouri makes a face and laughs, but it sounds bitter. "If you want to get yourself killed, as I said, do so. But I haven't scheduled my life to end tonight, honey. And I really can't understand why you would..."

"Missouri."

"He is dead, Scud! In fact, he has already been dead when you met him. And when he beat you and when he insulted you and when he took advantage of you. You are alive, he is not – not now, anyway. You could do better than to run after the ghost of a man that took so many lives already... he doesn't need to take yours, too."

"He didn't take my life," Scud mumbles, watching the thin fog dance over the gray road. "He gave it back to me. And when he found me and took me home, I wasn't much more alive than he was. This, I owe this to him. Whether he will ever know or not, but I will. I will know that I was here and tried to... pay him back. That's what I can do, Missouri, that's what I will do. I will find him."

The woman contemplates him with a long look before she speaks. "Where he went is no place for you and hopefully never will be."

Scud nods.

„You could die."

„There are worse things, believe me. Being alive, but alone, that's way worse."

Then he turns and opens the passenger door.

"Wait."

A thin hand is reaching out to him, hanging between them in the air without touching.

"Look, if you... if you do find him, which I highly doubt, let that be said, then... call me, okay? The last thing I want is to be responsible for you starving to death out here. Or being eaten, and then having the other one starve to death. Anyway, you get my point?"

He nods again and takes the cellphone out of her hand. "Thank you, Missouri."

"Shut up."

From a safe distance he watches the engine jump to life and the small car rolling awkwardly back into the dark of night. Soon the headlights vanished, swallowed by the fog. What stays is the eery silence which just then creeps up into Scud's neck. He shivers, shaking off the feeling inside his chest and turns to face the other way.

No turning back.

He clutches the cellphone and walks down the path, having not a single soul accompanying him now.

The place could be out of a fairy tale, the home of an evil witch who eats children and builds her cabin out of their bones. Scud shoves his hands deep inside the pockets of his thin jacket, clutching the small cellphone until his fingers ache. The air is cold and the ground muddy, but he follows the road until the tress to his sides start to clear and he can see a large clearing come into sight.

A harsh stench reaches his nose and Scud turns away reflexively. He knows the smell of dead flesh all too well.

With every step he takes the stench intensifies and now there are columns of smoke rising into the gray sky. He doesn't remember what the outside of Anton's mansion had looked like, but the thing staring at him out of broken eyes resembled nothing like it. The burnt, black skeleton of a house. He takes careful steps over stones and smoking ground, avoiding the bones and skulls scattered across the earth.

Ashes are raining from the skies. They swirl up where his feet touch the ground, burnt wood quietly breaking under his steps as he walks over what once had been the manifestation of his own living hell. Now it lays in ashes, all of it and the gray remains surround his form, rise and rain down on him again as a barely noticeable weight on his shoulders.

The air is cool, small puffs of breath forming in front of him with every exhale Scud does. The smell fills his nose, his head and his eyelids flutter, blinking away rising tears.

His chest tightens when he looks up at the monster in front of him. Even like this, without it's constricting walls that kept all the horrors inside of it, Scud feels the presence of a past which had seemed so infinite back then.

He leans over when his lungs refuse to take in another breath of the stinging air around him. His mouth tastes bitter and he forces himself to breath through his nose.

There is nothing to hurt him anymore. It's all gone now.

It just doesn't feel like it.

He wanders the grounds for what felt like hours, turning trashed furniture and recognizing familiar faces.

For a brief moment he wonders what happened to the other pets who were still trapped inside the chambers.

When he looks up Scud can't tell whether it is still day or night. The fog was so thick right at the beginning, it could well be past midnight by now or still early evening. All he knows is that his mouth is dry, his bones ache with exhaustion and his head swirls from all the smoke he breathed in.

But still, no sign of Deacon.

He looks all around him, tries to see a path or anything through the trees surrounding the lost ground. All there is, is destruction and death. If he still had his common sense Scud would turn around, walk past those trees that seem to stretch their dry claws out to him and find a place to stay. Just, when he stays and listens, he knows that it's already too late for that.

So he walks, past the destruction and into the trees, in hopes of something that might not exist anymore.

The trees are throwing deeper shadows now, stretching along the cold forest floor and indulging Scud's small form as he tumbles over roots which stick out of the muddy ground. It has started to rain. His clothes cling to his shivering skin and his hair is sticky with quickly cooling sweat and the occasional rain drops hitting his head. His mind is nothing more but a gray blur. He doesn't even see what's in front of him, just keeps on moving his feet, his legs, tripping every now and then but not falling. His muscles ache and feel sore, he isn't used to walking this long. But Scud keeps going, because he hasn't found him yet.

„And you won't," a voice inside of him whispers. It's quiet but the words bore deep into his mind.

Scud ignores the dolorous words and pushes past a large oak which, he could swear, hasn't been there just a moment ago. Or maybe he didn't see it? Or maybe the forest tries to block his way, tries to harden his already uneven path? Maybe he's just going crazy.

After months of torture and abuse, this is what kills him. A lone walk through the darkening forest. This is what will break him.

It's only then that he realizes the pounding of his heart, his dry throat and lips chipped by the cold, merciless air. His eyes begin to water, but Scud keeps on pushing forth. He can't go back now, his feet wouldn't carry him any longer if he turns around now. So Scud keeps going, keeps on pushing, like he always did.

He comes to a small clearing. As he lifts his head the whole world spins and his stomach turns. With a grunt he buckles over, hands slipping over the clammy fabric of his jeans. He grips it tight and tries to keep the bile in that threatens to jump up his throat. He feels sick, his whole body hurts and his brain is a fuzzy mess.

„Where are you?" he mumbles, dry lips stretching and hurting with every word. „Where did you go?"

He dares to lift his head. The trees tumble to the side. His knees almost give in, but he manages to catch his weight in the last moment. If he falls now, Scud won't be able to get up again. He is so tired.

Suddenly his chest tightens in anger, in rage, in wrath. It shoots through his system and for a short moment his head is clear again.

He lifts his head to the sky and shouts: „You promised to come back!"

His voice echoes through the woods, waving through the air around him before it gets swallowed by the trees and darkness around him. When it's gone there is silence, only his heart thundering in his chest and his lungs rattling as they suck in the air reminding Scud that he is still there, that he isn't gone.

The anger disappears and what's left is an emptiness inside of him, like somebody cut him open and took out everything that mattered, leaving him hollow and cold.

The tears feel hot on his almost numb cheeks. Angrily, he wipes them away. Scud wouldn't cry now. There is no reason to. He should have known that it would come to this. It had to. After all, this is his life. It had to end with him being alone, like always.

He hangs his head in silent defeat and then slowly turns to make his way back.

That is when something underneath his feet shoots out of the ground, gripping his ankle tightly.

Scud shouts, tries to shake the thing off in a panic and stumbles to the ground in a mess. He crawls away hastily. When he made some distance between himself and his attacker, trying to catch his breath, Scud takes a closer look.

The thing is actually... a hand? A very pale hand, crusted with dirt and the unmistakable color of dried blood. A very familiar looking hand.

"Deacon", he breathes.

With both hands he digs into the soft earth, shoveling away the layers as fast as he can. His heart thunders in his ears. He almost doesn't dare to believe.

When he is deep enough he shoves his arms into the hole, grabbing blindly for the body underneath. As his fingers find a softness that shouldn't be there Scud pulls with renewed strength. He huffs when first an arm, then a shoulder and finally the top of a head rise from the gray grounds. Between prayers and curses he manages to pull the limbless form to the surface.

Heavier than he imagined, Scud slumps back, the still and unmoving Deacon in his arms.

"It's you, I found you", he whispers and wipes away the dirt on the man's face. "Please wake up, man. Come on!"

Scud shakes him, pleads and begs. But Deacon remains motionless, his eyes closed as if in a slumber. How long has he been out here? Drained from strength, unable to escape the safe cave he made himself.

As his heart tightens with cold panic, Scud rolls up a sleeve. He lost him once, he wouldn't lose him again.

The cruel fear that tears at his every string numbs the pain as he sinks his teeth deep into his own flesh, deep enough to rip the skin open and feel warmth flood over his chin.

He holds the man, cradles him like an infant as he presses his open wrist to ice cold lips.

"Wake up, wake up already! You promised me, now keep to your fucking word, you asshole. Please, I can't leave without you, Deacon. Just wake up already..."

The lids flutter before opening almost coyly. Scud feels a hand wrap around his wrist, pressing it further against the now eagerly moving mouth. It feels wrong, having his blood stolen from his body, but he couldn't care less.

He leans down to press his forehead against that of Deacon, mumbling endearments to the still weak man as the trees around them throw their shadows.

xXxXx

The way was as strenuous as the first time. With shaky fingers Scud dialed for the only person that would be willing to help them. Not an hour later they stood in the flood of Missouri's headlights. In almost grim silence she helped them get into the car, shut the doors and drove back to Deacon's apartment.

She didn't lose a word about what Scud just did, and he was grateful for that.

Now, back in familiar quarters, it slowly starts to catch up to Scud.

He watches Deacon, who watches him silently, as Missouri's small hands roam his body, looking for injuries.

"You found me", he mumbles. Scud nods and takes the hand that is reaching out to him. "You could have died."

"Didn't, though", Scud responds and a tired smile tugs at his lips. Deacon smiles in return, too tired to express what was going on inside of him.

"Looks like you had a lot of luck. The silver in your shoulder could have easily killed you. I need to get that out and close the wound. Stay, I'll look what I can find."

"Thank you, Missouri", Deacon says slowly, looking up to the smaller woman from his slumped position on the couch.

She rolls her eyes behind her frameless glasses. "Don't, else I might feel like doing the right thing here."

Scud listens to the small clicking of her heels fade into the distance. He looks up to catch Deacon mustering him, a frown on his face.

"I'm fine, really", Scud mumbles. The hand that was holding his moves to carefully brush over the bandages around his wrist. He pulls away from the touch almost instinctively. "That didn't even hurt."

Deacon huffs. He knows Scud well enough by now, recognizes every little lie that comes over these familiar lips. Words that weren't spoken he filled in himself. Reading between the lines is their basic communication.

"You went back to that place", he starts. "What must it have taken you to go there?"

"None, Missouri drove me", Scud says. He tries to smile. A very weak attempt. "Look, let's not talk about it, alright?"

"You can't just brush this off like it was nothing. You risked your life. You could have died, just for the faint possibility of me still being there. Why didn't you just go? It was your chance to run. Nobody could have stopped you."

They fall silent, Deacon watching Scud who picks at his bandages.

"Scud..."

"It wouldn't have mattered", he whispers. "It wouldn't have mattered without you."

He finally looks up. Their gazes meet and Deacon slowly nods.

"Okay", he says and reaches out for Scud's hand again. "It's okay."

xXxXx

If he had learned one thing, then that it was never good to stay in one place too long. Things would turn bad eventually, and if they turned bad in a new place it only meant to move on to the next. But when he stayed, when he got his hopes up, the risk increased of him getting hurt.

Scud never planned for this. He never said he wanted any of this.

xXxXx

"Looks good to me", Missouri says after she unwraps Scud's wrist. The skin looks new, a faint shimmer decorating the uneven surface. "An ugly scar will stay, but that probably doesn't bother you anymore."

There is a bitterness in her voice and for a moment Scud can almost relate to it.

xXxXx

Their time had a limit, both of them knew. They shared this knowledge with every look, every touch and every day spent huddled together in Deacon's coffin. One day one of them would die and then the other one would stay behind, try to make it somehow.

"What if you turned me?" Scud sometimes asked as his fingers slid over the cool surface of Deacon's skin. They would lay in the darkness and talk about anything coming to their mind. But Deacon never responded to his question. Instead he took a breath, a cheap try of faking life, and pulled him into a lose embrace. Every time Scud swore to never bring it up again.

But then something happened. Something went wrong and they found themselves standing in Deacon's apartment, arguing, fighting. And every time it would end with one of them turning around and angrily stomping out of the room. Most of the times it was Scud who ran away. He was so used to pay obedience to his master that at some point something in him would snap and he stopped fighting.

Deacon would shout at him, insult him and tell him what a meaningless existence he would live. And Scud would endure it until the word "human" wavered through the room.

"I'm human because you don't want me!"

It was pointless, every last one of those arguments. Deacon wouldn't turn him and Scud didn't know why.

All he knew was that someday he would be old and Deacon would still be young. Or maybe they'd never make it that long, none of them dared to speak it aloud.

"It's an eternal night, Scud."

That's all Deacon would say. And then he left, leaving Scud alone with his thoughts, with his fingers still clutching tightly at the sheets and fighting against the urge to scream.

xXxXx

"You don't want me to turn you. You don't want to be like this. Isn't it everything you despise? I can't do this to you. I don't want to be the one that you will look at and eventually start to hate. Eternity can be a long time, Scud. Don't ask this of me anymore."

"I'll grow old, Deacon. I'll get wrinkles and weak bones and one day you won't be able to hold me anymore because I will just break. Maybe I'll forget myself. Maybe I'll forget you. Will you take care of me, Deacon? When I'm turning into a ghost. Is this what you want for me?"

xXxXx

Mercury grows her eye back. It doesn't stop her from begging Deacon to kill Missouri every time they're together. There is so much hate inside of her. Scud wonders what kind of person she was when still a human. Deacon saw something in her that appealed to him.

But she has been loyal. She hasn't given up on him either. Maybe that's all that matters.

xXxXx

Dragonetti eyes him weirdly for the next weeks, but Deacon shakes his looks off. He has no proof that it was him who tore Anton to shreds and burned down his mansion. He even catches himself considering an explanation, but that would involve Scud and their relationship. To explain something like this, he would need to have it figured out. But they are far from that.

They will just have to stick with what each of them believes for themselves.

xXxXx

Where the hands land his skin grows cold. Just for a moment, before his living warmth takes over them. But then they are gone again, searching another part of his body, just as cold as before. He doesn't flinch when they reach for him. He expects them, needs them, almost whines when it takes them too long to touch again, feel him again, rake over his body. His spine aches and it hurts, but he bends back even more until his ribs press against the thin skin. The body under his mumbles approvingly, low and dangerous. He stares at the spinning light above his head.

His whole world is turning in this moment, and he couldn't care less.

„Scud."

That's not my name, he thinks, as he lets his head loll forward. It's his turn to stretch out his hands, like a lost child, and feel the body underneath. His thighs are pressed against the sides of a slim hip, like they belong there. Through the fog inside his head a face appears and soft lips worry a spot on his jaw. He leans back again, but this time there are hands holding him, long fingers spanning across his lower back and keeping his spine from breaking into two.

He repeats the name like it's the only word he knows, the only sound that's allowed to fall between them. It's wrong, and he wants it to stop as he presses against the defined torso, his heartbeat the only one to be shared in this moment.

xXxXx

"It's not that I don't want you."

Scud turns his head. He has caught his breath again, but his heartbeat still shakes his ribcage. It's a feeling he never grows tired of, and neither does Deacon. He chuckles but it turns out bitter.

"What, are we actually gonna talk about this?"

Deacon frowns at him. As much as he frowns, he never gets wrinkles, and he never will. His face will forever be the pale youth that it has been for centuries now.

"This isn't easy for me", he starts. "It's like trying to explain colors to a blind man. How can I make you understand that this, what I have, is not what you want?"

"Deacon, it's not that I want what you have. Trust me, I really don't. But we both know what's gonna happen. It's nothing we can prevent. Like this, I just feel I am wasting time. I don't want you to suddenly change your mind when I'm old and gross, you know?"

Deacon laughs and reaches to draw a hand over Scud's chest. They are lying in bed, facing each other. Something this intimate – just a month ago it would have seemed impossible for Scud to even touch another being without fear, now he feels calm every time the other man is this close to him.

"I wanna be with you, that's all."

"I know", Deacon mumbles. His gaze is lost in the distance. "But I can't do it."

Scud swallows, almost chokes on the words that want to rise up in his throat. He feels the familiar pull of desperation, ready to jump up and at Deacon and unleashing all his fears and images on him. But then he catches the look in the man's eyes and the thoughts fall quiet.

This is as close as they will ever come to love.

He had never needed assurance, he had never needed sweet words. He still doesn't need them. This is all he needs. It's gestures, and touches, and the abandoning of your own hopes for the sake of the one close to you. This is beyond fights and arguments.

He never needed him to say it, and he never will.

"Eternity is a long time", Deacon says. "And I wish you could see it with me."

Scud looks at him and a small smile pulls at his lips.

"Yeah, me too."