Red Nightmares at Midnight

He was dreaming. He just knew he was. For this was dear and familiar. Loved. Home. How he’d longed for it. Mother, Father, Vergil. Suddenly he was five years old again, running towards the back door with his twin. Mother was inside, making dinner. But Father wasn’t there…something was wrong. Flames exploded in his vision, sending him screaming once more. Something sharp jabbed his arm; he howled and jerked away. Restraints held him fast, but they were easily snapped with the adrenaline thrumming through his blood, fueling the demon that paced below the skin. He heard a dimly familiar voice, sounded like Kimmy, screaming, “Get that damned morphine over here, shit!” But he fought; the hands wanted to hurt him, pushing him back down once more. He couldn’t go back, not to the nightmares of his childhood. His mother, torn and rent among the bloody snow. Home, burning to ashes. Vergil, gone, taken to become his enemy for all eternity. Father…vanished. He didn’t even feel the needles entering his arm, he was quickly growing numb under the massive amounts of drugs pumped into his system. He managed to reopen his eyes and not see blackness, colors registered. He made out grey walls, bright lights and several people running around in white coats. Kimmy’s familiar face bobbed in his vision. “…Dante?” she asked, placing a hand on his forehead. “Can you hear me?” He tried to answer her, but his tongue had somehow tied itself in a knot. All he could do was nod, about an inch. “You’re in rough shape, devil hunter,” she told him, adjusting the drip feeding into his arm. “You’re here in the hospital, but don’t worry, you’re not dead yet,” she added with a grin. “Didn’t want the feddie boys to have records, so Harris brought me here to patch you up. You’re in heavy sedation, took twelve of us to keep you on the bed, big boy. Tore yourself up pretty good, gorgeous, even your body can’t heal such damage fast enough to keep you conscious. So just relax and let it do its job, okay? And I’ll help you; keep your ass snowed with enough morphine to stagger an elephant.” She smoothed back white hair from his forehead and Dante dimly realized her fingers were slightly cool to his heated skin. He tried again to open his mouth, but Kimmy stopped him. “Hush, Dante, for once and just be still. Christ, you bugger, you’re on a highway to hell so fast you can’t even see it.” The drugs sparking though his system finally hit his brain and he slumped back, falling prone on the bed. Back into his dreams. But the drugs helped, kept the howling devils screaming through his sleep at bay. He wanted to call out for Douglass, but she wasn’t here. Brows furrowed over closed eyes. No, she’d gone. He found himself standing in the middle of a black oblivion, lost amid the cold comfortless stars. “She’s not gone, prince,” he heard an achingly familiar voice whisper. Jerking around, he stared wide-eyed at the shape that coalesced before him, one he knew so well and pined for. The black faded to soft warm grey as Jayden materialized before him, her green eyes warm as she looked at her husband. He tried to say her name but failed. It didn’t matter, she heard him. “Dante…” she said softly, moving to him and slowly enveloping him in her arms. He nearly broke down once more at the tenderness of her touch. “You’re hurting, my love,” she whispered softly. All he could do was nod an affirm. Finally choking out the words, he managed to say, “…ever since you left.” She pulled away and placed a misty hand to his cheek. “There was no need, prince. I’m beyond all pain.” A bit of darkness clouded her eyes as she gazed at him. “And I would wish you the same. There is no reason for you to ache for me, Dante. I accepted my mortality. Don’t blame yourself…for something you could not have prevented nor stopped.” His fists clenched. “Jayden…” he began but she stopped him, fingers over his lips. “Part of you is human, Dante. The very best part. Grieve, and let it go. Fill your mind with the time we did have and use that to comfort you. You have purpose here, a job to finish. And would you look beyond the past, you would see a light for the future, my dear prince. There is hope. No matter how dark the night.” He wanted to sob. “Jayden…I don’t want you to go again. I can’t…I just can’t…” She made him face her, palms to his cheeks. “You must. For me, you must. Know that I love you, and want you to live again. Do so for me, prince. Take the light of heaven to the darkest recesses of hell, but do not take it alone. You cannot beat them unless you let the past rest. Do it, Dante. And be at peace.” Her soft words hit every chord on his damned soul, ringing into the very recesses of his being. Like hammer strikes to piano strings, they bored themselves into his heart, and he realized she was saying her final goodbye. He took her hands and kissed the palms. “I love you, Jayden McAlister and have sworn fealty to my family. It won’t go unavenged, this I swear.” Jayden smiled and nodded. “Goodbye, my love. Jacksom said to say hello. We’ll be together again, you’ll see.” Stepping away, she slowly began to fade, her bright eyes and loving smile lingering as she returned to the mists from whence she came. Dante felt the old pang of loss, but her words had scored into his brain and soul. Suddenly he was so tired, couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept. Closing his eyes once more, he drifted and returned to his own consciousness, breathing slowly evening and deepening as he returned to the sweet healing slumber. He didn’t hear Douglass skid inside the room, nor Kimmy’s reappearance outside, spying the familiar face with her patient and dismissing the guards from the wing. The young intern glanced down at Douglass, not bothering with lights either. “I see you found him,” she said with a nod. “It’s not too good. We had to move him here to keep the ‘regular’ doctors from getting their hands on tissue samples. He’s only been sleeping for about…” she checked her watch, “…thirty minutes now.” Going on, she related to Douglass all that had happened, what she’d heard from Harris and the crime scene. “He’s healing, but slower than normal. If ‘normal’ applies to Dante,” she grinned ruefully. But her lips twitched. “We had to snow the lout with morphine to keep him on the table. If he keeps this up, there’s no telling how long it’s gonna take him to walk away from the next one. Just looking at the man’s scars makes me hurt.”




Douglass : "You don't know hurt," Douglass's words were dry, but not without purpose. Her eyes traced the lines of his face as she regained her standing position. Hazel visuals flicked to Kimmy as she touched his shoulder lightly; "He's stronger than either of us could imagine, he'll pull through all right. If anyone has earned a long recuperation, he has; and he'll keep walking away from it; walking tall." She offered the young woman a smile, a genuine smile; "You look like you've been through hell tonight; what say you to a bite?" Kimmy smiled back; dismissing Douglass's greeting words and smiled herself. "I need to stay here, but thanks." "Tell you what; I'll go grab something; then when I get back you can take a break and I'll sit with him; before you refuse, I insist." Kimmy wasn't sure, but she did feel the need for a rest, even a quick one. Nodding agreement, "I've got a hankering for Chinese; there's a place around the corner should still be open." Douglass nodded, eyes turning back down to her companion; "'Sleep well sweet prince,'" a quote from a movie she'd once watched with Conroy. "Think they'll give me my gun back?" Neither woman could keep from smirking at the comment; they both knew it wouldn't be returned lightly. "I'll see that it does," Kimmy folded slender arms under her chest, looking past Douglass at Dante's resting figure. Doubt seemed to sprout on her face, and Douglass took the initiative to reassure her, placing a soft hand upon the other woman's shoulder; "He'll be alright, just let him sleep." Slipping away, she pulled the door open quietly, discontented glares greeted her as she passed into the hall; but they were met with cold hazel stones. "Get a fucking life." Opting to walk to the food place, she ordered up a popular dish and a soft-drink for Kimmy and a cup of coffee for herself. It took a good fifteen minutes for the food to be prepared, so she sipped the coffee all the while staring out the window into the passing traffic; amazing how this city never sleeps. "Order 151," not like there was anyone else in the place. Walking briskly back to the hospital, she didn't stop or even grace anyone else with a glance; it was damn near four in the morning; thank God for twenty-four hour restaurants. Setting the meal on a chair just outside his door, she glanced in through the window; Kimmy was seated upon a chair across the room from Dante's bed; her eyes had drifted closed. Hazel eyes adjusted quickly to the dim room; and she passed silently over the floor; waking the sleeping Kimmy with a gentle rocking of the shoulder. "Go find a couch, I bet it's more comfortable than this chair." Kimmy groaned slightly, and stretched; "Thanks." Rubbing sleepy eyes she quickly checked hospital machines, then departed; leaving the two alone once more. Sliding into the same chair the young intern had been propped in, pulling up her legs, she hugged her knees to her chest; chin propping upon the knobby ends. He didn't stir, his eyelashes didn't flutter; he seemed so peaceful. Her own eyelids grew heavy, weighted blinks eventually resulting in sleep. It was a light slumber; each little noise bringing consciousness back to her mind.




The demon blood flowing through his veins did its assigned tasks, repairing the damaged human tissues and reknitting bones. He slept soundly for once, Jayden’s visit still fresh in his heart and soul. He was on his way, this he knew. He simply couldn’t release her memory into his past, but his knuckles weren’t so tightly clenched, it was a start. A few visions did flit behind closed blue eyes, but they were fleeting, unimportant to the massive amounts of healing his body was undergoing. His vitals stabilized, blood pressure regulated, and the harsh marks slowly began to disappear into his flesh, leaving new scars to decorate his large torso. Although it made him wince, his broken bones mending and joints returning to their appropriate sockets. He grunted, eyes finally opening as he returned from blessed sleep, spying a dark room. Vaguely he recalled his surroundings, Kimmy telling him he was soaked with morphine. Mm, good stuff, that. But he managed to turn his head a bit, neck muscles whining in protest, to see a familiar figure hunkered down in a nearby chair. He had to blink a few times to recognize Douglass. Hn, found him, did she? For some reason, that was comforting. He tried to shift around, but hissed a breath as the needle wiggled in his arm, how he loathed the damned things! But he groaned and flopped back on the bed, making his abused body protest a bit more loudly as pain twinged up his spine. “Nnggfllsshhhmm,” he growled, trying to involve animal parts in his swearing.




Douglass : The hiss woke her with a fright; hands instinctively reached for an absent gun; a moment of panic passed quickly as the sheets stirred in the bed across from her; thank Christ. Legs slipping down, she pushed herself to her feet, taking the few steps across the room; half an ass propped itself on the bedside; "Morning sunshine. Rough night huh?" A crooked grin, "You had me a tad worried," glancing over her shoulder to the rectangle of light spilling in from the window of the door, "Shall I fetch Kimmy?" she inquired.




All he could do was blink at her. Dazedly. As if not believing she was really there or not. Dante even went so far as to touch one finger to her arm, just to make sure. But he dropped his hand with a groan, closing his eyes once more to her question. Licking dry lips, he tried to inhale enough to speak, but his lungs were still a mite tender. So he coughed and nearly gagged instead. Fuck! He hated being a damned invalid! The last time he’d been in the hospital, he’d had nearly twenty broken bones and a huge chunk of skin and flesh missing from his back and side. And he’d recovered within forty eight hours. God’s teeth. It was intolerable. He groaned again, exhausted for the morphine still thrummed through his veins. His vision was hazy, everything was outlined in bright fuzz. He would have begged for water, had he been able to speak, but he just nodded again, not really sure what he’d been asked.




Douglass : Features went tender as she watched him; the crooked grin slipping from her face. Fingers once again tried to push platinum locks from a fevered forehead, her head quirking to one side thoughtfully. "Just rest Dante; I'm right here," the fingers slid down his cheek, then picked up just long enough to find his hand resting near her leg. Fingers slid around his; a comforting squeeze given in hopes of helping him to relax a bit.




He nodded again, damn near as parched as the Saracen desert. Dimly he felt he coolness of other skin enveloping his fingers, his flesh heated due to the roiling healing blood churning through his veins. But he was dying of thirst, God! In his last desperate attempt before he passed out from what felt to him like the blistering fires of hell, he lifted their hands and used one finger to trace the letters “W”, “A”, “T” across her jeaned thigh before he was forced to drop his limb back to the bed. Fuck it, whatever in hell worked.




Douglass : Brows furrowed in slight confusion at first; W A T…? A long moment of contemplation quickly revealed the final two letters; … E R; water. Ok, she mouthed the words but no noise left her lips. Slipping from the bed, she let go of his hand; going to the door, she paused for only a moment to look back at him; hang in there. The door latched quietly behind her, long strides carrying her down the all to a vending machine; digging in her pocket, she managed to find a dollar bill; wadded up and not looking too good. "I sure as hell hope it takes this," she placed the bill in the designated area; at first the machine took it, then spat it back out. "Fucking hell…" digging a little deeper in her pocket, she pulled out a few other wadded dollars, selecting one that didn't look too bad, she tried again; this time it took. Selecting the featured brand of bottled water, she stooped and picked up the bottle, gripping it lightly by the capped top. Eyes searched down the hall; and unknown doctor was standing outside Dante's door; "May I help you?" Her words were cold and dry; a typical Douglass; the doctor turned to her, a half grin pulling at the corners of his thin lips as he looked her up and down; typical guy. "Just checking on a patient is all." Reaching for the doorknob with one hand, the other tightened around the water bottle; "Well if you don't mind, he has all the help he could possibly need; just send Kimmy if you have any doubts." Brows flicked at him; daring him to question her; he only grinned a little wider, "But of course, how silly of me." He was patronizing her, she knew it; but Dante was waiting, and he took precedence over mouthing off to an overly confident medical personnel. He gave her one last look before turning to walk away, whistling an unknown tune as he went; "Jackass," she uttered under her breath as the door pulled open; but somehow it was flattering to have a member of the opposite sex look at her like that. Shaking her head of the thought, she slipped back into the room, going straight to bed, she sat back where she had been; "Still conscious?" her voice was but a whisper in the dawn




Slitted eyes watched her as she finally figured out what he’d been trying to relay. Settling back with a soft sigh as she left, presumable to go get water, he so hoped and prayed, Dante turned his head, wrinkling his nose at the damned O2 tube still poked into his nostrils and snorted. Damned uncomfortable. He finally managed to get one hand up there to pull the damned thing out. Had he his way, he’d strip off all this shit and head home for about three weeks soak in a hot bathtub. Which actually didn’t sound too bad. But he finally noticed the weak sunlight dribbling in the small window and hissed, squinting even though the rays weren’t anywhere near his face. Evil stuff, that. But he heard the door open and managed to crane his neck around to see Douglass reenter, a bottle of water in her hand, yes! Christ, he just might leap on the woman. He swallowed heavily, parched lips nearly crying in sweet remembrance of the blessed liquid. Another voice reached his ears just as Douglass inquired as to his consciousness, he answered by nodding thrice, blinking up at her. Kimmy poked her head around the door then came on in the room. “Ah, morning Dante, Douglass,” she nodded to the other woman before turning back to her patient. A brow quirked, spying the bottle in Douglass’s hand. “Thirsty, are we?” Dante wanted to tear the hair off both their heads, but his brows lowered dangerously as he kicked his foot irritably, damn this shit!!




Douglass : "Not me," she whispered, not looking up at Kimmy; she knew she girl would disapprove; water was probably the last thing she figured he'd needed, but if anyone knew Dante, it was himself. Pulling the cap off, her left hand slipped around the back of his neck, carefully helping him lift his head. "When can he leave Kimmy?" The other woman seemed surprised at the question, maybe even taken back; "At least not for another day or so; why?" As Dante gulped down the water she was carefully pouring between his parched lips, she spoke over her shoulder; "It would be better for him to be at home; somewhere without prying doctors and the potential attack; no doubt the demon bastards know he's laid up." A second thought, "By the way, did you get my gun back?"




“Security has it,” she answered automatically, watching Dante nearly inhale the bottle, plastic and all. “Yeah, I know he’d be better at his own place, but how am I supposed to release him?” Oh, fuck this with a damned broom handle, Dante appreciated the effort, but Douglass was steadily pouring the water down his throat, faster than he could swallow. He finally had to just refuse it. Like a damned three-month old. Coughing, finally getting enough air to speak, and speak he did, voice rasping and rough, he informed them both, “As soon as I can stand up, I’m outta here.” Eyes laden with hard finality turned on Kimmy. “Savvy?” Kimmy, knowing him as she did, just sighed, rolled her eyes and nodded. “Yeah, Dante, savvy. God.” She took his chart and began scribbling on it. “And this’ll end up in the shredder, no worries. I can cover for the drug usage.” He nodded once, coughing lightly. “Good girl.” To Douglass, he gave her knee a weak squeeze and managed a small, “Thanks.”




Douglass : Who else is gonna do it? The words were mouthed; she wouldn't actually speak them with Kimmy in the room; but she was certain the girl knew something was being communicated. Standing back up and capping the bottle, she slipped it next to him, letting it rest against the side of his leg. "I need a fucking shower, and you need some clothes. I'll head for home and return in a few hours, doubt the bastards will try anything in the middle of the day; you need anything Kimmy?" She knew the girl would likely be stuck here until Dante was ready to go; Harris would see to that. A defiant little smirk tweaked the corners of her mouth as she thought about the poor bastard and the puddle in his shorts those few hours ago; and for a moment she wondered if the guy ever went home. "No thanks, I'll get lunch in the mess hall; but I do appreciate it." Douglass nodded to her, then turned back to Dante; "You think Lucy will let me in to get you some clothes?"




He quirked a brow to her mouthings; he’d never been good at lip-reading. But Kimmy adjusted something on his arm that pinched and he squealched the impulse to bop her one. Blinking to Douglass’s question, he slowly nodded. “Yeah, prolly.” He wasn’t about to elaborate with non-personnel in the vicinity, surely Douglass would get the nuance. “Jeans and a shirt.” But another problem slammed between his eyes, giving him a headache. “Where in fuck are my damned guns and sword! Not to mention my clothes!” He couldn’t feel the Alastor’s familiar presence and that was getting bothersome. He didn’t get some answers, by God he was gonna haul this damned drip rack down every corridor until he found the blade and reamed some fucktard’s ass with it, the miscreant that took it! But the morphine was slowly making him dizzy again, his eyes crossed.




Douglass : Kimmy knew better than to ask questions; but as Dante suddenly became concerned about his affects; the two women exchanged glances, both fighting to hold back a grin. Damn; it was such on odd feeling to share thoughts with another woman; when was the last time Douglass had associated with another female? Shrugging off the thought she went to the door, giving a slight wave as she left; poor Kimmy. Stopping by the security desk, she picked up her gun; the guard glaring at her the whole time; what fucking ever. Slipping it into the back of her pants, the familiar feel of the metal against the small of her back was more than comforting. Stopping only once for gas, she sighed with relief as the truck eased onto the lift; "Hey there Lucy, miss me?" "Welcome back Douglass, are you feeling better?" Lucille didn't even wait for her requests anymore; she just knew what Douglass wanted and did it. "A whole lot; thanks." "Dante is not here at present; he went hunting last night and has not yet returned." "I know Lucy; he's in the hospital." Immediately the machine started to spout off questions; who, what, where, when, why, how. Douglass just snickered and smirked, answering the questions as simply as possible; going straight to her room, she quickly showered and dressed; pulling on a fresh undergarments, faded jeans and a black tank top. Her midriff never showed, it was always covered by fabric, no matter how much cleavage was showing. Pulling her hair into a half pony-tail, long tresses still billowing down her back; she moved through the living area; heading straight for Dante's room. "Ok Lucy, I need to get some clothes for him; think you help me find some jeans and a t-shirt?" "Douglass, you are not authorized to enter his private quarters." "Shall I bring him home naked then?" Silence from the mainframe; "The dresser directly to the left of the door; second drawer from the top contains shirts, the bottom one contains jeans. Be quick Douglass." The door swung open, and Douglass was slightly surprised by how tidy it was; nothing like her own room. Quickly gathering the two requested garments, she paused; "What about underwear?" "Negative, Douglass." Brows lifted, "O.K." taking the garments she went into the kitchen, grabbing a small handful of crackers on her way out. "You're leaving already Douglass?" "Yeah Lucy, as soon as he's up to it, I'm brining him home." "Good idea. Take good care of him Douglass." "You know I will Lucy." She'd been gone for two hours, maybe.




People were about to die. Horribly. Messily. And that would just suite him just damned fine. A good patient Dante was not. In the time Douglass’d been gone, the hunter’d been poked, prodded, prowled over and pawed. He nearly bit the damned fingers that tried to shove the damnable oxygen tube back up his nose. Kimmy, finally seeing the stress levels rising, shoved the irritants out the doors. “They mean well, Dante,” she chided him gently, closing the doors after the attendants. He grunted, chastised. “Yeah, but shit, it’s intolerable, Kimmy. I hate being a damned invalid.” Kimmy chuckled, coming to prop her hip against the bedside, combing back platinum strands from his furrowed forehead. “Such a baby,” she grinned, giggling at his sour look. Greatly daring, she leaned over and pecked his cheek before he swatted at her. Laughing, she just shook her head and went back to double check the machine and take his blood pressure. He growled at her. “I want out, damnit.” She flicked him a gaze. “In a little while, Dante. I sent Russell for your stuff; he should be back in a minute.” A brow quirked. That was reassuring. But the better he felt, the grumpier he got. He wanted his clothes, boots, weapons and to get the fuck out of here! Douglass better get her butt in gear, he thought sourly, slouching down in the bed, arms crossed. He was going to sulk, by damn. He’d earned it.




Douglass : She reentered the room without a word, the sour look on his face indicating well what had been transpiring. Tossing the clothes on his bed, she offered a quaint smirk, then exited; by damn she wasn't going to sit there while he got dressed; bad enough she had the little tidbit of information about his underwear. Rolling eyes she settled into the chair outside his door; arms crossing dully over her middle as she slouched partially. A voice broke into her mind before thoughts could form; "Still guarding his door hmm?" Dagger laced eyes flashed upward, met by a petite smirk from the thin-lipped doctor. "I thought you'd buzzed off."
Douglass : He smiled at her, slightly crooked white teeth peeking out at her; "Well I couldn't just leave without introducing myself now could I?" She eyed him wearily, was he trying to pick up on her? "My name is Doctor Sampson; Gregory Sampson; I'm the resident of this ward." Arms remained crossed as he offered a hand, a single brow arching high; "Am I supposed to be impressed?" He laughed, a good natured chuckle that wasn't that intolerable; "Most are, but I see you're not so easy to win over." Ya think? She wasn't going to budge, that was for damn certain; he sighed slightly, head motioning towards the door; a loud crash coming from within, no doubt Dante throwing a temper tantrum. "You're boyfriend in there is causing quite the gossip amidst the hospital staff…" "He's not my boyfriend." "No? Brother then?" "No." "Couldn't be you're father, could he?" That irritated her, "No." "Friend then?" "More or less." "Well then you're 'friend' is causing quite the gossip." "And you think I care?" He laughed again, and she almost smirked; by damn he was persistent. "You're not going to make this easy are you?" A cold stare the only response. Sighing in defeat, he scribbled something on his tablet as he spoke, "Well if you ever decide to warm up a bit; give me a call." He handed her a small slip of paper, and she almost didn't take it. As he turned to leave, he stopped and whirled around, face looking slightly confused; "Could I at least get a name?" "Douglass." A crooked smirk, "Well it was nice to meet you Douglass." Just then a page echoed down the halls, calling a Dr. Sampson to the emergency room. When he disappeared around the corner, she held the slip up in front of her, reading over the digits scrawled across the leaflet along with the word "Greg." Why not; he wasn't terrible looking. Folding the paper back in half she shifted in the chair; slipping the bit into her back pocket; maybe she'd need it on a rainy day. For right now though; it was just time to wait.




The ‘crash’ the good doctor seemed so upset about was in fact Dante throwing not a tantrum, but the drip rack against the wall after Kimmy tried to reinsert the damned needle. He was by far and good over this shit. Douglass had brought clothes, it was time to haul ass. His own comfy bed was singing his name, sounded like harp music from heaven in his ears. Kimmy just sighed and got out of his way as Dante methodically stripped tubes and wires from his body and turned around while he dressed behind her, marking off stuff on the chart. “Fine,” she said shortly. “You’re as stubborn as a damned bull.” Standing up was a chore, he nearly passed out again, all the blood rushing to his brain, but the princeling managed. Finally. Shoving long legs into his jeans, he yanked the denim over his hips and it took him three tries to get ‘em snapped and zipped. Goat balls. The shirt was easy enough. Pulling on his boots hurt like a bitch; his spine was still sore from all the banging it’d taken earlier. But he was dressed. Russell had deposited the effects just before Douglass arrived; Dante wrapped the guns and blade in his red leather coat and, after giving Kimmy a thankful kiss on her cheek, to which she blushed and just ignored him thereafter, strode out the door, glancing down at Douglass. “C’mon,” he said shortly, still a bit wobbly on his feet.




Douglass : She rose from her seat; leg muscles the only ones used. A flat palm touched his back lightly; letting him know that a helping hand was available if he needed it; she knew he wouldn't accept, but the offer would stand. As they neared the door; she held out a pair of dark sunglasses; "Here, it's bright out there." As he took them and slipped them on, she gave him a quick glance; not too bad. Diligently she led him to the truck; pulling open the passenger door before trotting over to hop in on the drivers side. Once he was in and settled, she started up the Chevy; the diesel engine rumbling to life under the deep green hood; how she loved the sound of diesel. She eased the automobile through the parking lot; taking care not to stop too suddenly or anything of the like; lord knew that she'd once been in his shoes. Carefully she maneuvered through the streets; eventually getting to the freeway; figured that'd be easier then trying to keep cool at all the stoplights; luckily there wasn't much traffic. Taking an off-ramp close to the little used road that led to home, she kept the speed slow and steady; going somewhere between sixty-five and seventy on the paved; and around sixty on the dirt road.




Praise Christ, he could have kissed the woman’s feet for those damned shades. Taking and shoving them on his nose, he more or less just hobbled his slow ass to the specified vehicle; dimly he realized he’d have to come back to town to get his bike. Damnit. Harris’d have taken it back to the station, and should Dante find one scratch, heads would roll. But he just clambered in the truck and sank into the seat, thudding his forehead to the window after the door closed. He felt like shit warmed over. Probably looked it, too, he thought sourly. But there wasn’t any help for it, not right now at any rate. He tried to keep as still as possible as Douglass drove home, he was regaining strength as the morphine percolated out of his system, but he still felt rotten. Praise Christ for air conditioning, though. There was defrost on the outside windshield, he noted with a smirk. Ah, bless the woman, he thought with a soft sigh, leaning back in the seat. Finally arriving home after what to Dante seemed like a jillion year space flight, the familiar cool blue of the hangar was manna to his starved eyesight. He’d seldom been so glad to hear Lucille’s automated voice. Her sensors picked up on his voice print and she welcomed him home with enough emotion that had she been able, she probably would have knocked him over in exuberance. Dante just laughed as the lift descended. He made his own way to the lift, still hauling his equipment, feeling more like a doddering old man than ever, he was moving so slowly. But he had to keep reminding himself that while he did enjoy certain benefits thanks to his demon heritage, he was still partly human, and it was the damnable human part what was making him so miserable right now. Lips twitched as he collapsed on the couch with a sigh. “God, this is pathetic,” he grumbled with a snort, leaning his head back, eyes falling shut. Letting his coat and things thump to the floor he just slid over, stretching out on the comfy cushions. “Rgh, I hate being a damned invalid…”




Douglass : He was so damned stubborn; but she had to smile at the thought; wasn't she the same damn way? As he fumbled through the routine, she followed close behind; ready to help him up if he should fall. As he finally collapsed on the couch, she only stood near the doorway, smirking at his comment; he'd try to bite her head off for that; but whatever. "Cut yourself some slack, it hasn't even been twenty four hours yet."




He opened one bleary eye and snorted at her. “Patience isn’t a strong suit of mine, Douglass. Haven’t you figured that out by now?” But he frowned, then asked out of the blue, “Just where in hell have you been the last few days?”




Douglass : "Making a new friend; doing a little soul searching. All the crap women do." She moved into the room, letting herself slip into one of the arm chairs, legs dangling over one arm, back propped against the other; was more comfortable than sitting in it the correct way. Fingers of the left hand slid through the blond tresses; and the right hand came to rest lightly on her mid-section. "Finally got some sleep too."




Another small snort. “Hn, succinct, I reckon. And congrats on the sleep, I could use some more that’s relatively uninterrupted and Lucille, I swear to God, if you start preaching at me about the evils and wickedness of not getting enough rest and pelt me with a zillion suggestions for recovers, so help me I’ll yank me some circuits, you hear me?” He was not in the good mood. Lucille clicked at him reprovingly, but remained silent. He grumped a bit, arm slung over his eyes. “And as soon as I manage breath enough to haul my sorry carcass off the couch to get to my bed, I’ll do just that. For about a century or three.” Falling silent for a bit, he sighed then said, “By the way, Douglass…thanks.”




Douglass : "Don't mention it," eyelids were becoming increasingly heavy; seemed that the sandman wasn't done with her yet. Just take me baby; her breathing became more regular as head slumped against the backrest, but she'd see that Dante was taken care of before giving in just yet; "You want some help getting to bed?"




“Naw.” Grunting, he rolled over and managed to stagger to his feet, leaving his work clothes and weapons on the floor beside the coffee table. “No offence, babe, but if I get so bad off I need help, I think I’ll just retire and spend the rest of my days sipping margaritas on some beach somewhere.” Giving her a wink, he staggered and toddled down the hall, bedroom door opening and closing behind him. It took him a bit, but he managed to divest clothes and collapse in bed, Lucille kicking down the AC and bathing the huge room in darkness.




Douglass : As soon as the word "Naw," escaped him she was asleep; undisturbed slumber caressing her mind for hours. When she finally woke, she hadn't moved a millimeter, slightly confused as to where she was, fists rubbed sleep from her eyes. "You up for a bit of training Lucy?" "I tingle with anticipation Douglass;" Jesus Christ even the machine was a smart ass; chuckling softly she hoisted herself up; going to her room and changing into work-out clothes before heading downstairs and resuming the intense training she'd been enduring before the nightmares had started; her physical capabilities had deteriorated slightly; enough to discourage her slightly; but everyone had set-backs; so she pushed on.



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