Red Nightmares at Midnight

Douglass : Stupid; stupid stupid stupid. That's all she could think as she slunk back to her room; for so many years she'd lived contentedly, for so many years she never had to worry; but now there was much to worry about, too much. Sinking down on the left side of her bed; hands came to enfold her forehead, pulling at the hair there, wishing herself a mute; you shouldn't have said anything, you should have just gone by yourself, and kept things the way they were. You were content; not happy but content: in this world that's all anyone can ask for. God how she hated her humanity at the moment; for ten years she'd lost it; or at least buried it deep within herself: but there was something about him; something about Dante that woke up the human inside, bated it out and dared it to live. That's why she couldn't stop caring about him, he'd become her humanity. "If I could take it all back Lucille, I would." The mainframe clicked and whirled a few times; processing the abundant meanings that the set of words could have; after a few moments of mechanical silence, she chimed in "No Douglass; it needed to be said. It will ease your mind and his when he cools off." Douglass managed a nearly silent "thanks" to the machine, and curled up on the edge of her bed; curled tightly into the fetal position, her mind swam with what she'd said, and what he'd said. You're not a monster Dante; you are humanity.



Such a medium in dreams. They’d never been restful, even when he’d been a mere child. They hunted him here, romped and howled through his rest as if they knew they’d never get claws in his actual living flesh and had to turn to other means, the bastards. But it was old news, really. Dante’d learned how to deal with the dream-demons over the years, and the results varied. Most of the time he’d render them nothing less than ashes and smoke, leaving his sleep unfettered and dark. As if his defenses were weaker when alone. But when Jayden had lain beside him, cradled in his strong arms, her soothing presence had been a sweet balm to his fractured psyche. But now, there was no firebreak to guard his sleep. He had to fight even as he slumbered. And they came. Again, with sharp claws and razored fangs, they sent howls through his mind, shivering his spine even as he readied for battle. But he tossed fitfully; something wasn’t right. Mumbling in his sleep, he jerked and swore, seeing them racing toward him. For some strange reason, his arms felt insanely heavy; hard to lift. He managed, but sluggishly. He heard shouting behind him and automatically knew Jayden was behind him, slaughtering her share. The thought gave him drive and he pushed on, making his iron limbs function. But a scream made him falter; whirling around, he saw Douglass, not Jayden, being swarmed under by several howling beasts, intent on ripping her flesh from her bones. He roared, turning to help her, but he stumbled, something crashing into his back, sending him to his knees. Douglass screamed again, he answered her with his own yell. Something powerful and hard hit his brain, freezing him in place, rendering his muscles to iron bands that refused to obey his frantic orders. All he could do was watch and scream as she disappeared beneath the rending fangs and claws. Shrieking, he tried to flail and writhe, but even that was denied him as the mental grip tightened, making him howl in pain. They circled him, snarling in wicked anticipation at seeing him rendered thus. The mighty Son of Sparda, finally fallen. He panted heavily, still forced to hands and knees. Teeth gnashed as he heaved for breath, but they charged him, pain shot through his body as teeth ripped and tore flesh; claws scored his skin. They wanted his blood and would take it any way it would flow. Lucille, sensing the unrest in Dante’s bedroom, indeed the man was thrashing and screaming like something possessed, clicked and whirred, calling his name repeatedly, trying to jolt him from the nightmare, but to no avail. The hold was too strong; he couldn’t be woken.



Douglass : To hear him calling out in his sleep; it was not anything new. She'd heard it time and time again; but did her best to ignore it. No wonder the man slept so much; he never quite. But something wasn't right; not this time: there was a despair in his cries, a pain as real fire. She bolted upright; ears perking to listen in more closely; was that her name? Legs pumped hard as she ran down the hall, her feet barely touching the carpet before throwing her further, faster. With intended force she threw herself against the door; pinkie side of her right fist slamming into it; "Dante what's wrong?" No real answer; just the painful cries. "Lucy what's fucking going on behind this door?!" "He's having nightmares Douglass, that's all." "It doesn't sound like 'that's all.' Lucy open the door." "I cannot permit you to enter Douglass; it is against his rules." "Fuck his rules Lucille! Let me in the fucking door!" "Douglass Gean McQue; you are not authorized to enter his private chambers." The machine was being firm; but another loud cry from inside nearly tore her heart out of her chest; "Lucille he's dying in there! I know you're trying to wake him up I can fucking hear you! Open the God damned door and let me help him; for Jesus fucking Christ's sake Lucille open the door!" A fist landed heavily upon it, if Lucille wouldn't let her in; by damn she was going to beat her way in. "They are killing him Lucille, can't you hear that!?" The machine was silent for a long moment; then as if something snapped in her mechanical, motherly mind the door slid open; Douglass didn't thank her, she just ran; like a woman possessed she went to his bedside, a flying fist caught her on her left eye; hurling her backwards; "Fuck!" Truly there would be a shiner there tomorrow. Without wasting time, she got up, ducking away from his flailing limbs, she eventually got close enough; fingers slipped to his face, the flat palm of her left hand laying flat upon his cheek; "Dante wake up; wake up damn you." She wasn't shouting at him, her voice was steady, a normal speaking level. As her left hand tried to soothe his right cheek, her right hand tried to control his arm… Jesus there would be some serious bruises after this one.



He couldn’t move; he was still deep under the mental spike. But in reality he was thrashing like a rabid dinosaur. Truly unknowing of his actions, he just fought as best he could, his body trying to jerk his brain out from under the heavy mental assault. He didn’t feel Douglass’s hands on him, all touch felt like demon teeth and claws. They hurt. He’d never known such pain. In his mind’s eye, blood streamed from his body, the earth was soaked with red. He was dying, he knew it. But he fought it. He’d take as many of the bastards as he could with him. Something icily cold hit his skin and he screamed, back bowing off the mattress. Eyes flared open, all semblance of humanity gone to be replaced by red on black. A roar left his throat as his flesh rippled, demonic scales threatening to burst from his skin. Dimly, a voice began to penetrate his brain as the demon blood washed away the invading presence, loosening its hold on the hunter. Fists clenched, smoke curling from fire-laden fingertips as he struggled to bring his mind from the abysmal recesses of the demon’s pit. Words, incoherent and broken, tripped from his lips as he grunted and tossed.



Douglass : She couldn't tell if she was registering with him or not; as he screamed out; back bowing she was knocked away again; fine time to get on top of things. Hopping onto the bed, she straddled him, one leg on either side of his long torso, pinning down his arms as best she could, one of them caught under her left leg. Another wild buck and she almost went toppling to the floor; but she held on, as if for dear life; "Come on Dante, wake up. I'm right here with you; let me help you fight them." Features winced in pain as demonic scales threatened to overtake his body; as they protruded his skin they would pierce into her, leaving small red incisions upon her bare legs and arms. Her torso stooped low; cheek pressed against his temple, she fought to hold on; "Dante, I'm right here. They can't hurt you so long as I hold you; come on Dante, wake up." Arm and leg muscles alike battled against him; clinging tightly to hold on; her reassuring chiding never ceasing; "Come on Dante, take my hand; it's right here;" fingers traced his arm as best they could without being knocked away, "I'm right here Dante, I'm right here, I won't let go."



The voice gradually permeated his fuzzy brain, but it proved the opposite of the wanted reaction. With a resounding roar, Dante slammed back into full wakefulness, a vicious snarl curling his lip as unfocused devil eyes flared to the only blooded being in the room, Douglass, seated atop him. Instinct slammed into full reflex, arms ripping from her hold to latch hands around her neck as he heaved upwards, throwing her to her back and pressing the intruder into the mattress. Teeth, already stretched to sharp canines, bared as he growled, those eerie eyes blazing down at her, not really seeing. Only knowing he hurt and had to lash out in defense. A knee dug into her stomach as fingers tightened about her windpipe dangerously. His fingers rippled, claws threatened to erupt from his nail beds. Should they, they’d rip ribbons along her carotid artery and jugular vein. Shoulders bunched as draconic wings twisted beneath his skin, blood ran down his back and arms from the tears in his skin as they fought for release. A roar burst from his lungs once more as he howled, still feeling the claws digging into his own flesh from the vividness of his nightmare. Lucille was clicking and buzzing in warning, but the only sounds in his ears were those of his inner demon, wanting blood and flesh to sate it.



Douglass : Fingers gripped his wrist; was this her end? "Don't let it win, Dante; you're not like them," despite the crushing force upon her throat she managed to sound steady, unmoving. "Come on Dante, snap out of it; I'm right here." Her left hand reached forward, fingers aching to touch his face, if only she could reach him; help him open his eyes. "Don't let go, Dante, don't let them win; hold on."



Words registered but were still fuzzy. The beast inside snarled and lashed, trying to break free. But the human still within kept tight grip to the monster; with a final shout, he caged the beast, slamming it back beneath his skin. With a strangled groan, his body shuddered as the strain released and his eyes returned to the bright human blue, canines resumed their normal length. He blinked several times, bare chest heaving with panting breaths as consciousness finally returned in full. Looking down, a puzzled frown coupled with wide eyes wrote across his features as he realized just what he’d been doing and, registering Douglass’s flushed countenance beneath him, he tore his fingers away from her throat, a strangled sob escaping his lips as he just collapsed on her, going limp, as exhausted as if he’d been fighting for a thousand years. Shoulders shook as he shuddered, red trails flowed down his skin from the protruding wingtips. Burying his face in the covers next to her, he just lay there. Speech was still beyond him, he didn’t have the first apology for what he’d been ready to do.



Douglass : The first breath was inhaled with such necessity that it nearly choked her; chest heaved with labored breath as the oxygen finally reached her bloodstream; she couldn't get enough of that sweet nectar of life. Holy shit; but her wounds were minor to what he'd endured. She could feel her eye starting to swell, the little lacerations that littered her bare flesh stung as air hit them; but she only wrapped and understanding arm around him, fingers resting at the nape of his neck. "Good morning sunshine," the words were coarse from the compression on her neck; but she managed to smirk slightly at her smart ass remark. Swallowing with difficulty she began to gently stroke his hair; "Just rest Dante; by damn you've earned that." Eyes closed; she was exhausted: the combination of trying so hard to hold on and then being deprived of oxygen certainly didn't do wonders for the body.



Pain wracked his big frame from the suppressed transformation; seldom had he let such happen. But it just might have saved his sorry life. Without the unleashed beast taking over primal instinct, he might never have been able to hear Douglass’s intervention. And would have perished there in his dreams. He heard her snarky comment, but found little to no humor in it. But comforting he found the hands in his hair, soothing. He inhaled nearly as shaky a breath as she, trying to regain a sense of calm and failed, miserably. It took him three tries to get the words from a raw throat. “…I’m…sorry…Douglass…”



Douglass : Her eyes remained closed, face turned up towards the ceiling; her breathing was slowly returning to normal. "For what? Don't apologize for something you can't control." Fingers continued to slide lightly through the tangled platinum locks; "I'm just glad you're OK." She swallowed again, the open palm of her other hand turning over to face upward as well, a peace offering.



Lifting his head wearily, haunted azure eyes closed as fingers slid through white stands. Truly, a delicious sensation. Lowering his forehead to rest against hers, he just sighed softly, truly feeling like the lowest of mortals, bested by a damned dream. Yet his subconscious knew better. The hordes were getting desperate; they wanted him dead, didn’t matter the vehicle. “This job’s gonna kill me, Douglass. I’m too human for it.” Fear. It choked him. Especially on the heels of such a damning experience. “I can’t care. Caring, loving, it makes you slow, makes you hesitate.” Dimly he realized he was still crushing her into the mattress and made to move. “Sorry, I’m heavy, I know. Too damned tall.”



Douglass : Her arm held fast; "No, you're fine. Just rest." Her eyes opened to small slits; peering into the darkness between them. "Your human side makes you stronger then them; don't give up on yourself." Her tongue slowly passed out between her lips; moistening them for a moment; "I won't give up Dante; I'll keep fighting. I'll fight this every night if I have to." She took a moment before continuing; preparing for what she was about to say; "If I didn't care, do you think I would have held on this long?" She wasn't just talking about tonight; she was talking about her whole life.



Unwilling and unable to argue, for the moment, he just resumed his former position, grunting softly as he fell back. But he didn’t have an answer for her question. He truly didn’t. The very nuance had puzzled him to no end and he’d quite refused to think on it, chalking it up to the fact that she didn’t have the first friend in the world besides Lucille and he himself, on a very good day, and nowhere else to go. But he sighed once more, breath flitting over the fading marks at her neck as his head lay in the crook of her shoulder. “I have no idea, Douglass,” he admitted finally, arms snaking beneath and around her, as if to just have something living to hold, warm flesh to cling to in order to keep the demons at bay.



Douglass : She could feel his arms around her; she could feel him! Eyes closed tightly as she rested her cheek against the top of his head; her own arms wrapping around him, holding him close like a mother held her child. God Dante, why you? A content sigh released from her breast; "Try to sleep; I'll be right here," she whispered into his ear.



Some working part of his conscious brain realized both were lying crossways across the bed, the silken sheets strewn across everywhere. With one arm, he managed to pull the cover and drape it over his back, wincing slightly as it hit the marred skin. But he nodded to her quiet command; God, sleep sounded so good right about now. Murring quietly, nose beneath her ear, lashes fluttered as his eyes closed, shifting slightly to his side as not to suffocate her as muscles relaxed and his consciousness deemed it safe to return to slumber. Lucille, noting tragedy over, kicked the AC back down to about sixty, as cool as Dante liked it when he slept. The droning of the generators was steady and soothing, the room melted in quiet cool darkness.



Douglass : His warmth encompassed her; surrounded her like water; but she couldn't sleep. Eyes peered up dimly into the darkness; the chill of the room chased away by his warmth. Why Dante? Why can I feel your touch? The last time she had slept with another in their bed was before her dad had passed on; her mind turned tender as she thought about him. Suppressed memories seemed to creep out from behind every fold of her mind; memories of him. Details about the day in the mountains; the day she learned how to shoot long suppressed by her unconscious mind now rang clear in the darkness of that room. He'd wrapped his arms around her, showed her how to aim and then let her pull the trigger all on her own; he didn't make her learn, he let her. But it was the latter part of the day that she'd forgotten; when they'd been snug inside the cabin; a five year old Douglass running around in pink stirrup pants and a white top chasing her father around that small cozy cabin. They laughed; he jumped over furniture; she crawled underneath until finally strong arms scooped her up and swung her around. "I've got you!," she'd cried. "No I've got you!" he'd called back; and they both laughed. Memory jumped to a warm spring day in New York Central Park; a seven year old Jeanie Preston ran barefoot across the green lawns, chasing down a butterfly. Arthur was close at hand, watching with a smile; a smile so much like her own. A young girl's eyes turned wide as she captured the small creature inside her small hands; "Look Daddy!" She'd taken it to him, and he scooped her up in his arms; peeking in-between her small, slender digits; "If you really appreciate that butterfly; you'll let it go doll face." "But daddy; if I do it might get eaten by a bird!" He only smiled at her youthful innocence; "Doll face, if you really care about something; then you've got to let it go when the time is right; or else you could kill it." "How daddy, I'm not squishing it?" "The longer you hold onto it, the more its wings fade away; you don't want it to lose its angel wings do you?" A defeated Dee slumped, "No," and with that she'd opened her hands, the little creature flitted away. A tear slid down the real Douglass's face, it landed in the hair by her ear; quickly being absorbed. "I understand." Eyes squeezed shut to stifle the tears that dared; and she clung a little tighter to Dante's sleeping form; even though she was wrapped in his arms; never had she felt so alone.






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