Slambi

Rating: R
Category: AU
Pairing(s): Nathan/Charles
Warnings: Horror, accidental death of an animal.
Summary: Nathan and Charles are off for their first romantic weekend when things take a dark turn.
Notes: For Nathan/Charles month. Portions written with Rei

Part One

~*~*~*~

It was their first week away together as a couple. Normally when it came to booking accommodations, Charles bowed to the tastes of the band. But this time he and Nathan were not off as manager/client. They were off as a pair of lovers, and Charles was not interested in spending his first ever romantic getaway in the basement of some dead Romanian lord’s castle. So Nathan had demonstrated that well-hidden gentle, sweet side of himself and let Charles pick the spot. Charles chose an upscale and secluded campground, complete with cottages. It was a common haunt for celebrities because it was quiet, and the paparazzi hadn’t found it yet. So they booked the cottage, packed their bags, and set out on the eight hour road trip in Charles’ grey Bentley. They had started late in the day; it would be midnight by the time they got there.

After four hours of driving Charles was starting to flag, so they changed positions. Nathan drove while Charles dozed, his head on Nathan’s shoulder. Gradually the sky clouded over, and it began to rain. It was May, and the weather was still sometimes cold and unpredictable. There was no moon. The world was in perfect blackness, and a spring wind threw down rain as the thunder overhead growled threateningly.

“Be glad to get to the cottage,” said Nathan.

Charles made a sleepy noise of agreement, then looked at his watch. “Only another hour and a half to go. First thing I am going to do is take a long hot bubble bath.”

“Before or after I throw you on the bed and…?”

The deer came out of nowhere. Between the storm and the quickly approaching auto she was confused and frightened. She bounded erratically all over the road, then for some reason known only to her, she turned and charged the Bentley. A hundred and fifty pounds of white-tailed doe met the windshield, shattering the tempered glass. The huge car swerved madly as Nathan fought the wheel, trying to control it. Then they hit a tree just off the side of the road. There was a horrific impact, and then silence.

After a few minutes, the driver’s side door of the Bentley opened, and Nathan staggered out, limping. Blood was running down his face as he stared at the massive grey Bentley, the hood crumpled, the window shattered, the paint smeared with the blood of the deer. Nathan reached up to feel his forehead, touching warm blood.

"Charlie I think we hit something..."

Charles was in the same state of confusion. He rolled his head to the side to see a gash in his arm left arm, running with dark blood. He touched his stomach with his right hand, his fingers coming back stained red.

“Yes, I'd... say we did...”

“Are you okay?” asked Nathan, head back, letting the rain wash his face.

“I don’t know. I’m bleeding. But… I don’t think it’s bad.”

They were stopped on the shoulder of the road, just a foot from a rather steep slope. Nathan looked around, feeling the cold rain soak his clothing. They needed shelter. They needed to get dry and warm and they especially needed to see how badly they were hurt. He limped over to Charles’ side of the car, leaning in to get a flashlight out of the glove box. He aimed the beam into the night, gazing down the slope.

"Well... we need to figure out like... where we are and... what we're doing. There's a path down here. Might lead to a house. Or a campground." Nathan looked over at Charles. “Can you walk?”

Charles nodded. “Yeah, I think I’m okay.”

Nathan helped Charles out of the car, then walked over to the front of the vehicle and hoisted the bleeding carcass of the doe onto his shoulder. "Come on. Maybe they have a phone."

Charles nodded slowly, following Nathan shakily. He reached up to pat the doe's head, muttering softly; “Poor thing...”

"Yeah think she's pregnant," said Nathan. "It’s May, that’s usually when the white tails have their fawns. If we can find a place with some light I can maybe get the fawn out. And then I can dress the deer and.... stuff." He slipped and slid down the steep grassy slope, somehow managing to avoid falling onto his face.

Charles raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You can do that? I didn't...”

Charles felt his feet slide out from under him. Nathan shot out a hand and managed to catch Charles by the collar of his suit jacket before he slid face-first down the hill.

"Careful, Charlie, those Italian shoes aren’t made for pissing around in the rain.” He helped Charles to his feet. “Yeah I know how to dress a deer. My dad and I used to hunt. I haven't done it in a while but... I mean I can dress a deer. I just don't know where I'll find the high heels out here."

Charles gave Nathan a sidelong look at the bad joke. Nathan just grinned.

They reached the bottom of the hill, and found themselves staring at a small sagging shack sitting in a little yard overgrown with small shrubs and trees. The lightning flashed silently, and they had a brief moment to take in the greying wood, broken windows, and hanging shutters. It would almost have been better to stay in the car. But then the skies broke their dams and the rain that had already been falling fast and hard slammed down like a violent waterfall. At least in the shack they could make a fire and cook the deer. In the Bentley they would be cold and exposed to the rain. They would fare a little better in the sorry little cabin.

"Come on Charlie. Let's go inside."

Charles stifled a groan at the condition of the shack; now was not the time to be choosy, but this was hardly the way he wanted to spend his romantic getaway. He cautiously pushed against the door of the little shack, and was relieved when it didn't simply crumble into dust. He took the flashlight from Nathan, sweeping the beam around the interior of the structure. A handful of small, unnamed creatures scampered out of sight, but there didn’t seem to be anything large or dangerous lurking in the corners. He deemed it safe enough and stepped back to let Nathan enter. Nathan wasn't daunted by the scampering rats. He carried the deer over to the fireplace and placed it down on the wooden floor.

"Let's see if we can find some lamps. I'll get the fire lit while you look for lamps and lamp oil. I gotta open that deer."

Nathan began laying tinder and kindling for the fire, then laid on some larger pieces of wood. Soon he had a decent blaze going and they could see the inside of the cabin. Charles watched Nathan with mild fascination for a moment or two before beginning a search for lamps, greatly aided by the light of the fire. He managed to find a couple tucked into a dusty little broom closet with a calendar hung on the door. The calendar on the wall was dated April 1951. Charles hurried back over to Nathan with the lamps.

“There’s not going to be any fuel in these. The calendar over there reads 1951. That means no one has been here in almost sixty years.”

“Crap, you’re right. Okay just hold the flashlight for me, then.”

Nathan had a knife in his boot, which he drew out and used to deftly open the deer. He drew out a bulging sack from her belly and carefully slit it open. There was a miniature flood of fluid, and then something soggy and brown slid out.

"Hey Charlie, come meet your son," Nathan said as he picked up what appeared to be a soggy squeaking bundle of legs. "We need a towel."

Charles just stared at him, blinking, fascinated by what he had just seen. Charles was a city kid; he still had a hard time associating cherried quail with those stupid little birds he saw running all over the fields behind the Haus. He looked around quickly, but it did not seem likely that clean towels were anywhere to be found in the shack; certainly not clean ones. He stripped off his suit jacket and, kneeling beside the deer, handed it to Nathan.

“Here, use this.”

Nathan placed the puzzled baby animal into the jacket, then pulled off his t-shirt to rub the little fawn down.

"Poor little guy. Sucks getting run over for your birthday. Let's see if you're hurt. Doesn't look like it. Nah you're okay." He bundled the little deer into the jacket and handed it to Charles. "Here. I don't care if he knows that pile of meat is his mama or not. No one should have to see that. I'm gonna hang her up and see if I can draw some milk out of her." He hoisted the carcass. Both Nathan and the deer were covered in blood. "I'll be right back."

Charles allowed his eyes to follow Nathan for a lingering moment or two, captivated by the sight of him bare-chested, bloody, and hauling an animal carcass over his shoulder; he looked so... primal... and... Charles gave his head a firm shake to stop it from further pursuing that line of thought; now was not quite the time. He looked down at the tiny bundle in his arms, very carefully shifting it until he was cradling the newborn creature. He spoke very softly to the tiny animal.

“Hello there. I bet you're very confused. And I'll bet you're hungry. We're working on that.”

The damp infant considered Charles, one ear up, the other flopped over, the dubious facial expression reading "Mama....?"

Eventually Nathan returned with what milk he managed to extract from the doe. "Seems to be enough for two feedings. Not sure how much baby deer need. Found an old rubber work glove and a soda bottle and cleaned them up in the river. Should work to make a baby bottle. Won't taste too good I don't think but... better than starving."

Soon Nathan had a bottle made and filled, the doe dressed and a haunch roasting over the fire, and was heating water in an old kettle so they could wash up. Clearly surviving in the middle of nowhere was not an issue for Nathan Explosion.

"It's creepy out here," he said. "Whole time I was dressing the deer I kept feeling like somebody was watching me. I threw the deer guts into the woods so if it's a wild animal it won't approach. Hung the rest of the deer in here but not where the little guy can see it." He grinned. "Let's name him Slambi."

Charles found himself simply staring far too much at Nathan tonight; he couldn’t help it; he never thought of Nathan as completely helpless or incompetent, but... Well, this was the man who had once poured loose rice into a grocery cart and who had gotten laser pointers stuck in his nose on multiple occasions. Now here he was in the ass-crack of nowhere, in the middle of a storm, delivering baby deer and MacGyvering feeding bottles; it was a side of him Charles had never seen, and he was impressed… and aroused, but again, it was not quite the time. He raised an eyebrow at the name Nathan suggested for the fawn.

“Slambi?”

"Well yeah. 'Cause like... Bambi was a baby deer and... he lost his mother... but... she was shot, okay, and he at least had her for a little while. And Bambi was a pussy and our little deer got slammed by a car and came out okay so... he's Slambi."

Charles was quiet for a long moment as he attempted to follow Nathan's logic. It was a dangerous journey, with quite a few cracks and holes along the way.

“We can think of names later,” said Charles.

"We're calling him Slambi," said Nathan. He handed Charles the bottle, then roamed off to do who-the-hell-knew-what.

“You can’t call him... I can't even make myself say it a second time.” Charles shook his head, smiling despite himself. He turned his attention to feeding the little deer. It reminded him a bit of helping out with his baby sisters, except fuzzier and with hooves. Meanwhile Nathan could be heard rummaging in another room. Then there was a pause.

"Oh, wow, that's... brutal. Okay… the good news is I know what happened to the former owner. The bad news is.... don't come in here."

Charles rolled his eyes at Nathan's warning. “Oh, lovely. Of course there's a dead body in the next room, because the situation wasn't already bizarre and unpleasant enough already.” It didn’t truly bother him; he'd seen more than his share of dead bodies after all, but it just seemed as if someone out there was thinking "Now how can we make this worse?"Author’s notes: Which we were, of course. ~ MR.

Slambi happily sucked his bottle; if the glove tasted odd then he didn’t seem to care much. The one ear seemed malformed, At any rate it didn’t stand up and it gave him a perpetually sceptical look. Nathan came out of the bedroom, closing the door and moving a chair in front of it, a little disturbed by the dead man's presence.

"Wonder why they just left him there? It's like he died and nobody noticed. Or cared. No one even bothered to loot his shack. That's... pretty sad." Nathan sat down on the floor beside Charles, reaching out to rub the little deer's nose. "Hey Slambi. Who's a good little metal deer, huh? You are!"

“Maybe he lived out here alone. Maybe he had no one to notice that he was gone. ...Okay, that's even sadder. Forget I said that.” He stroked Sla... the little deer's back softly. “He seems to approve of your jury-rigged bottle. That was... really very clever. I'm not sure I would have thought of that.”

Nathan shrugged. "No big deal. I saw Pickles make one for one of the yard-wolf puppies. He spent a lot of time on his grampa's farm helping out with the horses and stuff when he couldn't stand being at home. So... I didn't do anything clever, I just... copied Pickles."

“Well, it's not just that. You've handled this whole situation so matter-of-factly. I've just never seen you like this. It's impressive.”

Nathan shrugged, then kissed the little deer's nose as it craned its neck to sniff him. "Hey Charles he looks just like you. Big brown eyes, fuzzy brown hair, sorta quasi-confused-annoyed expression."

“Well, you did say he was my son.”

They stopped talking briefly as something very softly struck one of the walls.

"Wind," Nathan said quietly.

Charles nodded slowly. “Wind. Most likely.”

Nathan listened to the wind, not sure he liked this. He was about to turn away when he heard it again. He was on his feet in a second, poised, body tense, listening hard. Then he shot out the front door after something, leaving Charles alone and holding the deer.

“Nathan!” Charles cried, watching him tear out the door.

With the newborn bundle in his arms, Charles very carefully stood, holding the fawn to his chest, and moved into the doorway, cautiously peering outside. Nathan hadn’t gone far, only to the edge of the little yard. The rain was pounding down, and the lightning silently slashed across the sky. Nathan turned and went back to the cabin, gently pushing Charles inside.

"Someone's out there. Think we're a lot safer in here."

Charles’ eyes grew wide. “Someone's out there?” He tried to peer around the door as Nathan closed it, mentally chastising himself for not having noticed as much. “What did you see?”

Nathan bolted the door. "Not sure. I thought I saw a guy in jeans and a leather jacket. I definitely saw something. And... something stunk real bad."

Charles tried to look through cracks and holes in the door, shifting Slam... the little deer to one arm as he reached his hand down to his hip, feeling for his gun. The gun was not there. He must have lost it in the crash. Well that’s just swell.

Nathan protectively herded Charles over to the fireplace.... which was pretty funny considering that Charles was probably the one who would end up protecting Nathan. Charles allowed himself to be herded; it was much more comfortable by the fire anyway. Nathan pulled out his dethphone, only to find it was wrecked in the crash.

"Shit. How's your phone?"

Charles carefully settled Slamb... the little... oh, fine, Slambi, goddammit... settled Slambi in an ancient armchair, tucking his jacket around him to keep him warm. He took out his own phone and examined it. It seemed to be in working order... but no reception. Of course not. He pulled out a second phone, his personal cell, checking it as well. Nothing. Crap. Charles put the phones away, then looked around the sorry little shack, hearing the storm howling outside.

“Car accident, abandoned shack with deceased owner still in residence, storm, shadowy figure in the woods, and cell phones rendered useless... I think I saw this movie. It did not end well.”

"Yeah I think I saw it too,” said Nathan. “Was it the Evil Dead, Blair Witch Project, or Cabin Fever?"

“All of them. And at least a dozen more. I think I even saw a porn version of it. That one ended much more pleasantly.”

Nathan stared at Charles, jaw dropping, eyes becoming large. "You.... watch PORN?! Man… I'm... so traumatized by that. And Slambi is traumatized too. You have emotionally devastated this family. Now we have to give the deer a DNA test to make sure it's mine."

Charles stared right back at him. “I'm male, aren't I? Why are you so surprised? You watch porn. You watch porn in a hot tub with four other guys.”

Nathan stared at him with huge watery green eyes. "But you're my Charlie. You're supposed to be perfect!"

“Well... It's good porn, if that makes you feel any better. I have standards you know.”

Nathan didn’t know why but... he was hurt by this revelation. Hurt and bothered deeply. He knew it was stupid but Charles was supposed to be better than that.

"Okay..." Nathan said in a small voice. He turned and walked into the ruined kitchen and sat down on the floor in the dark.

Charles shook his head, having a very hard time believing this actually bothered Nathan. He followed after him, checking briefly behind himself to make sure Slambi wasn’t trying to follow. Slambi was a good little newborn and stayed huddled down so the wolves didn’t find him. Charles crouched next to Nathan.

“What's the matter?”

"I don't know," said Nathan. "I just... I just always thought... you were better than that. And the idea of you doing something like that... kinda makes me want to vomit. You're too good for that shit.”

Charles was becoming increasingly confused. “It's not like I watch it all the time. I haven't done it in a few months.”

“I don't want you doing it at all! You're better than that!”

“Nathan for crying out loud I’m human.”

Nathan got up and walked away. "I don't wanna hear it."

“And I don’t watch disgusting underground garbage, it’s…”

"I DON'T FUCKING WANNA HEAR IT!"

Charles blinked, surprised and rather shocked at this side of Nathan. “Fine. I'm sorry I disappointed you.”

Nathan walked over to the deer and picked it up. He held it close as he sat on the floor, facing away from Charles. He knew he was being irrational but.... it bothered him. He wasn’t certain why but it bothered him a great deal. Charles watched Nathan in silence for a little while, then turned and went into the kitchen. He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose hard, irritated with himself for wanting to cry; but he couldn’t help it; he was upset, ashamed, and pissed right the fuck off for being made to feel ashamed. He certainly shouldn't be made to feel ashamed by a man who once injured his back trying to suck his own dick.

Charles sighed heavily, rubbing his eyes and breathing deeply, trying to get his emotions in check; crying won't do anything other than make him look pathetic. He leaned against the counter and suddenly winced. He had forgotten that he injured his stomach. Well... now was probably as good a time as any to tend to the wound, what with Nathan disgusted by his presence and avoiding him. He quietly returned to the front room long enough to retrieve his flashlight, then stripped off his dress shirt in the kitchen, shining the light on his stomach to inspect the wound. It was a fairly superficial cut and had already stopped bleeding. He must have been grazed by some of the broken glass from the window. He examined the rest of his upper body, finding several bruises. A couple were rather nasty, but the only real matter of concern was the cut on his upper arm; that one needed attention, and he had left the first aid in the car. Wonderful.

Nathan just patted the deer and stayed hunched down, trying to figure out what he was feeling. He really wasn’t sure what about this bothered him. He just knew he was upset, but the reasons were all jumbled up in his head and he couldn’t sort them.

Nathan set Slambi on the chair in his nest of $2500 worth of Armani and patted his little head, letting him get some sleep. Poor little guy was barely a few hours old and already he was getting a taste of family drama. Nathan glanced quickly into the kitchen to make sure Charles was okay, then vanished further into the house, chastising himself. This is stupid. This is really fucking stupid. What the fuck does he care if Charles watches porn? He does, the guys do, his dad does, Murderface's grandma does.... what does he care? But dammit he does! And the guy he normally talked to when his emotions are all fucked up was in the kitchen and all pissed off at him for being stupid.... again. Or still.

Nathan watched Charles lightly tap his flashlight against the counter as he debated braving the storm, and a possible shadowy figure in the woods, to retrieve the first aid kit. It was probably too late to avoid infection, but the cut at least needed to be bandaged. Charles began searching the drawers and cabinets in the kitchen, hoping to find something that could be used for that purpose for the time being. Nathan, almost on impulse, just needing to get out for a few moments, decided someone had to loot the car for whatever useful things are up there... like beer. Shirtless, he walked out into the roaring storm and headed up the hill to the car, the rotting door banging behind him.

~*~*~*~

Part Two

~*~*~*~

Charles heard the door open, then slam shut, and hurried out of the kitchen. Not finding Nathan in the main room, he opened the door, and was astounded to spot Nathan crawling up the grassy slope.

“Nathan!! What are you doing?! Come back inside!”

Nathan would have answered, except he couldn’t hear Charles. The wind was blasting, causing the trees to creak and groan loudly, branches snapping off and sending spears of wood through the air. The ground was slick and cold, and twice he slipped and fell, once landing heavily and awkwardly on his left leg. Oh great, he’d twisted his ankle. Bring on the brain-eating zombies. Eventually Nathan managed to reach the car, limping around to the back to open the trunk. Bingo, a veritable treasure trove!

"Oh, awesome. Large flashlight, blankets, lots of stuff. Bottle of Chivas and.... pies? Charles you really are a freak. I can see it now. 'Guns, Chivas and Pie, the CF Offdensen Story'. What's this? Fuck it I'll just carry everything back and we can sort it later."

He grabbed up the large box, removing it from the car before closing the trunk. He slipped and slid back down the hill, managing to crack as well as sprain his ankle. By the time he got back to the cabin he was soaking wet, bruised and limping, but at least they were a little better equipped. Charles all but dragged Nathan back through the door, relieving him of his load and setting it aside before fussing over him, his anger forgotten for the moment.

“Oh, look at what you did. Nathan, you shouldn't have gone out there alone. You'll give yourself pneumonia. Come over here, sit down by the fire. We need to get your ankle elevated.”

"I was mad. I walk when I'm mad. I'm still mad," Nathan mumbled, but did not stop Charles from fussing. He had beat the hell out of himself climbing up that slick mess, and stumbling and tripping the way back down aggravated every old football injury he had. “Crap, I’m gonna hurt for days.”

Charles ignored the sulking. He helped him to sit down in the old rocking chair next to the fire, drying him off with a towel from the box of emergency supplies before wrapping him in one of the blankets. He next inspected the pile of provisions Nathan brought back and happily discovered the first aid kit among them.

“This may hurt,” said Charles, and yanked off the boot. Nathan howled in pain.

“What did you do that for?!”

“Petty revenge for hurting my feelings.” Charles examined Nathan’s ankle. “It's sprained, but you probably already knew that.”

“It started off sprained. Then I broke it. Then YOU yanked my boot off.”

Charles winced. Okay that was a bit too much revenge for a disagreement. “Sorry.”

Nathan snorted. Charles wrapped the ankle and then found some old pillows to stick under his foot, propping it up. They didn’t have any ice to keep the swelling down, so that would have to suffice for now.

“Poor Nathan. Is there anything else you need?”

"No," he sulked, unhappy and grumpy and in a fair amount of pain, though he was not about to mention that. He looked up sharply as from outside came the loud crash of a dead tree succumbing to the wind. Then there came a distant scream, as if someone was dying horribly in the darkness.

“Did you hear that?” asked Nathan quietly.

Charles shook his head. “I’m… not sure. I thought I heard something, but…”

Then... from right within the very room where they were sitting came a sudden, sharp, horrible and very brief snorting squeal, as if someone had just killed a boar. Charles jumped, dropping the first aid kit to the floor as for the second time he reached for a gun that wasn’t there, looking in every direction for the source of the noise. Nathan looked over at Slambi, but the little fawn was huddled in the chair, his instincts all telling him to remain still.

"Maybe there's a possum in the attic," said Nathan.

“Do possums make that noise?”

Nathan looked around. "Possums make all kinds of freaky noises," he said quietly, almost as if talking to himself. "Besides if we're scared and Slambi is scared... chances are the animals around here are too. They're probably hiding under the house to get out of the storm. That would account for all the thumping and noises.”

Charles sighed quietly, slowly and carefully scanning the room. “You didn't happen to see my gun out there, did you?”

"Trust me Charles if I'd seen a gun I would have grabbed it. All I saw was pie."

Charles perked up. “Did you bring that? I mean… not that it's important...”

"I brought all four of them, you degenerate. I didn't know what kind you wanted. AND I'M MAD AT YOU AND I DON'T KNOW WHY!! AND I HATE IT!"

Charles’ eyes widened at the outburst. “...Alright.”

Nathan tried to stand up, and both his knee and ankle shrieked in blood-soaked agony. He went sheet white and slowly sat down. He closed his eyes, waiting for the pain to subside. It was so bad he felt as if he was going to puke. Charles quickly knelt by his side.

“You can't try to stand,” he said softly. “Breathe deep. I'll see if I can find you something for the pain.”

Nathan didn't say anything. He simply sat in the old chair, smelling the rot and stink of the cabin as it decayed around them in the rain. He thought he heard that scream again, but he was not going out there. Screw it. He knew there was at least one person out there, and it wasn't anyone he wanted to mess with. He certainly wasn't about to go chasing noises in the dark.

Charles turned the first aid kit upside down, rummaging through the contents. He usually replenished it every other month with painkillers filched from Pickles' room. The boys often got up to mischief that ended up requiring liberal amounts of Vicodin and minimal amounts of publicity. Charles found the bottle he sought and popped the cap off. He dumped out a pill and held it out to Nathan.

“Take this. It should help.”

"No," said Nathan. "If anything comes through that door I don't want to be three hundred pounds of dead weight. Someone's playing games with us. I keep hearing voices or something out in the storm, like someone's trying to lure us out. We can't afford to have one of us drugged."

“You're in pain...” Charles began, but then just sighed and put the pill back, recognizing the wisdom in what Nathan had just said. Instead he focused on his own injuries, cleaning and bandaging the cut on his arm and rubbing some antibacterial ointment on his other cuts and scrapes. There was a long silence, broken only by the sound of the wind and the creak and moan of the trees. Nathan closed his eyes, waiting for the agony to subside. When he spoke his voice was soft.

"I don't want you doing it anymore. It's beneath you. You're better than that. I don't care if you think I'm being retarded. I probably am. Sure as fuck won't be the first time. But I'm asking this one thing of you."

Charles was quiet for a very long time, feeling the anger and shame and the urge to burst out crying return.

“Well why don't you let me know all of the things you don't want me doing?” he snapped, his voice angry and resentful. “Go ahead and tell me what you'd like me to be. I wouldn't want to disgust you again.”

Nathan raised his head, looking annoyed. "Don't lay that shit on me. I'm asking one thing of you. One stupid fucking thing. I haven't asked anything else of you. Not since we've been together. So don't nail yourself to a fucking cross."

“It is a stupid fucking thing, Nathan. So why does it upset you so much? I don't understand!”

"I DON'T UNDERSTAND EITHER! IF I DID WE WOULDN'T BE FIGHTING ABOUT IT BECAUSE I'D KNOW WHAT WAS FUCKING BOTHERING ME!"

“Well, why don't we try to figure out what's bothering you instead of making me feel ashamed of myself?”

"I'm not trying to make you feel bad! I don't know why you think I'm trying to hurt you. I'm not! And if you're going to accuse me of shit then why don't we just end this now. I thought you knew me better than that."

Whoops. Yeah he had to be careful of that. Nathan wasn’t one to verbally spar; he didn’t have the vocabulary and he knew it. He was highly aware of the fact that in a verbal disagreement Charles could cut him to pieces, Nathan was hopelessly ill-equipped. If he felt mocked and humiliated he would pull back so fast it would be as if he was never there. It was difficult at times dumbing down to Nathan’s level. Charles was used to dealing legal sharks who said one thing and meant three others. He had to keep reminding himself that Nathan simply was not capable of that level of duplicity. “I don’t like this” meant exactly that – he didn’t like it. Nathan wouldn’t hurt Charles for anything in the world, but Charles often and accidentally cut him to the bone. Time to pull back and find out what the big lump was unhappy about.

“I'm not saying you're trying to hurt me. I know you wouldn't do that. But... I am hurt. I'm sorry, I'm not being fair. I'm upset and I'm confused. I care what you think about me, and I... I never expected you to react this way over something like this. It's incredibly out of left field, and it frightened me. I just want to understand.”

"It frightened me too," said Nathan quietly. "And... I don't understand it either. It was just that... when you said it... I wanted to puke. I dunno why. I don't know. I'm not good at... you know... connecting the dots like that. I mean you know me. I can look at a thing and I can say I don't like it but if you ask me why well then I'm just fucked. My brain doesn't work that way. Twinkletits said it has to do with what made me not talk until I was five. I just know... in that one moment... I was really scared."

“Well, I... I'm sorry I frightened you. I didn't mean to.”

"I know. I'm sorry I yelled. Maybe... I think that.... guys who do it are losers, and... well it doesn't matter what me and the guys do because were just human wreckage too. But you're not. There's no reason for anyone like you waste your time with crap like that."

“Well, I thoroughly disagree on the human wreckage status. I am familiar with the stereotypes. And I certainly don't condone overindulgence or substitution in place of an actual relationship. But... I don't see the harm in doing it once in awhile. It satisfies a natural urge.”

"Charles I'm not comfortable with the idea of you having urges. I'd appreciate it if for just the next day or two you sat politely on your pedestal until I adjust to the idea."

Charles blinked in surprise, then swiftly covered his mouth to smother what could very possibly be a giggle. Did the man honestly have no idea how sweet he was? After a few moments Charles managed to get himself under control.

“Well... I admit the subject was brought up a bit too early in the relationship. I only meant it to be a passing joke. I wouldn't have said it if I thought it would lead to any kind of discussion.” He smiled fondly at Nathan. “Alright. I'll try to behave myself for a little while. ...Though I am rather curious as to why you would enter into a relationship with me if it was news to you that I... had any kind of urges.

"Charles you've lived with me for five years. I'm dumb as a fucking post and you know it. If shooting a guitar with a trebuchet through your office window hasn't proved I have the reasoning capability of a retarded ferret then nothing I say will fix that. I like you. Besides there is no way I ever expected you to like me back."

Charles still didn’t quite understand why Nathan would consider having a romantic relationship with him if he didn't expect him to have any kind of sexual desires. There were several other questions he would like to ask as well but… it was best to let it go, at least for now. It probably made perfect sense to Nathan. That was one of the biggest problems their relationship faced; they truly did live on entirely different planets, and Nathan had the added difficulty of not really being able to tell Charles how things looked from his end.

Charles could have picked a smarter man. But he never could have picked a sweeter one.

“I like you, too. And I never expected you to feel the same way either. I'm sorry I overreacted. And I'm sorry for what I said. You didn't deserve that. I was... I was scared. And I wasn't thinking rationally.”

Nathan snorted in amusement. “My world. Welcome to it."

He gently pulled Charles onto his lap, holding him close. Well that was the sub-plot for this little melodrama solved, at least briefly. Nathan was sure his romantic relationship with Charles was not going to be substantially different from their client-manager relationship; he'll do stupid shit that makes no sense and Charles will have to try to figure out what was rattling around inside that dried pea he called a brain. Nathan held him close, burying his face against his neck, breathing in his scent. Then... from somewhere in the darkness.... there came that scream again; distant, faint and wild.

"Did you hear that too?" he asked softly.

Charles listened. “Yes... I heard it this time.”

"Someone's playing games with us," said Nathan. "I don't like it. I wish the phone worked." He stroked one huge hand over Charles' hair, listening carefully. "This place smells different. Kinda... rotted."

“I noticed that too. But it is a very old house, and the rain is bound to bring out unpleasant smells. We just need to make it through the night,” said Charles. “We'll be able to get a lot more done during the daylight.”

“Yeah I suppose so.” Nathan drew a steadying breath. "C'mon, let's give Slambi a second feeding. Oh, and I brought down the coffee you had in the thermos."

Charles gave him a light kiss. “You stay here, I'll take care of it.” He suddenly became painfully aware of their comparative states of dress and blushed faintly. Sex hadn’t happened yet, but Charles was very much looking forward to finding out if what all the groupies said was true. “I should probably find my shirt, as well.”

Slambi suddenly put his head up, his one ear hanging loose. He had been silent and still up to now, but he had clearly decided it was time to try out the feet. It was something he should have done hours ago, but after the shock of his birth it was not really surprising he was taking his time trying things out. He managed to get his forelegs under him, and sat up on his little butt. He gazed around the interior of the cabin, looking as if he was wondering where the hell he was and how he got there. It was a look Nathan had seen on Pickles' face often enough. Charles removes himself from Nathan's lap, stepping over to Slambi's chair.

“Hello there. Are we feeling restless?”

Slambi extended his neck to sniff at Charles. His mother's body had spared him any obvious injuries, but it was possible he was a bit sore.

"You should get him off that chair," said Nathan. "If he tries to stand up he'll go right on his face."

Charles stroked Slambi's fuzzy head, speaking in as close to baby talk as he would allow himself. “And we wouldn't want that, would we? No. Nobody wants a flat-nosed deer. Come here.” He carefully gathered the fawn up off the chair and settled him on the floor, unwrapping the ruined jacket to give him more freedom of movement. “Do you want to try to walk, hmm?”

Slambi seemed up for the challenge. He did a very admirable impersonation of his not-metal movie counterpart, long spindly legs going in all directions as he tried to figure out what to do with himself. Then, as is if by magic, he managed to get his limbs sorted and stood up. He immediately began nudging Charles, looking for milk.

“Well look at you! What a smart boy.” Charles reached down to touch Slambi’s one perky ear. “What are you looking for? Are you hungry, hmm? Nate, where's the rest of the milk?”

"It's in a small pot on the table. It was the cleanest thing I could find. You should warm it a bit and stir it; it might have separated as it sat."

Charles gently scratched the underside of Slambi's chin. “You wait here, and I'll get you something nice, okay?”

Charles went to the kitchen, retrieving his shirt along the way. Slambi was not about to wait. Like most baby animals, he knew that Mama was where the milk was. He dutifully trailed after Charles, remaining close as Charles found a wooden spoon and a pot holder. He knelt before the fire, holding the pot over the flames by the handle to warm it, speaking softly to the fawn.

“Look at you walking. What a good boy. Milk is coming, don't get too close to the fire.”

Nathan tried to get up, and pain shot through his leg. Crap. He knew what that feeling was; an inflammation in his knee that never really healed. Near-microscopic bone fragments under the knee cap that ground against things and cause the knee to fill with fluid and become agonizing. His trips up and down the hill must have aggravated it. Great. Between his knee and his ankle he was now effectively nailed to this chair. And he was pretty fucking sure something was in the yard. He was not sure what, or why, but the hair was up on the back of his neck, and he knew something was not right. Charles noticed the motion.

“Nathan, you can't try to stand. If there's something you need, please just let me know and I can get it for you.” He stirred the milk, pulling it off the fire to check if it was warm enough. Deciding that it was fine, he carefully poured it into the makeshift bottle, managing to only spill a drop or two. He set the pot aside and capped the bottle.

“Alright, Slambi, dinner time.”

Slambi had already figured out the bottle. It was hard to believe one day he would be three hundred pounds and sporting a rack of antlers. Right now he was just a little spotted baby with a floppy ear. Once he was done sucking down the milk he did what all good baby deer do and went back to his nest, lying with his legs tucked up and his little head stretched out. Of course even the stupidest wolf in the world could find him lying on a grey Armani suit jacket on a pillow on the floor next to a fire, but he was only a baby. Charles set the bottle aside, moving to sit by the little nest and stroke Slambi's back.

“Such a good boy. You have a nice little nap now.” Charles smiles up at Nathan. “Toki's going to love him.”

"Ah let him run over his own baby animals," grumbled Nathan. "We hit that one fair and square." He tried to stand once more and gave up. It hurt too freaking much. Shit. This was not a good situation. Not. At. All. And what the fuck was that stink?! It couldn’t be the guy in the bedroom; he had been dead way too long to stink anymore. It looked like he just went to sleep one night and never woke up. Not a bad way to go, actually.

"Can you pass me the coffee?" asked Nathan.

“Of course,” said Charles.

He patted Slambi's head, then straightened up, locating the thermos from the pile of supplies Nathan retrieved. He pulled a second chair up next to Nathan's, sitting down and passing him the coffee. Nathan opened the container and poured himself a cup, then glances at Charles' watch, noting the time.

"Only eleven. We've got a long night ahead of us. And I don't know about you but I really don't want to go to sleep."

“You can sleep, Nathan. I'll stay awake.”

“Nah, I don’t wanna sleep. Besides… I’m… sorry our first holiday ended up being such a mess. We were supposed to be in that horribly gay and flowery cottage listening to me die by degrees about how unmetal it was in between swimming, fishing, hunting, having sex and you occasionally grabbing me by my hair and making me do what you want to for once. Instead we’re in a haunted house in the middle of nowhere.” Nathan reached out to touch Charles’ face. “I’m sorry.”

Charles smiled. “It’s fine, Nathan. I’m sure you didn’t plan this.” He raised an eyebrow. “Did you?”

“No. But… remember that time your coffee mug broke in your office and you had to undress and change with me right there before the record label heads arrived?”

“Yes?”

“Do you have any idea how much work it is to rig a coffee mug to break?”

Charles’ jaw dropped. “You did that?”

“Yeah. I learned watching a show about special effects. Took hours.”

Charles stared at Nathan. “You rigged my coffee cup?”

“Yeah well… it was the only way I thought I would ever get to see you mostly undressed.”

Charles blinked, processing the information, then blew up. “How can you be so incredibly thick and at the same time so damned intelligent?!”

Nathan shrugged. “Meh. I’m smart when it’s important. I have like… lazy brains.”

“Getting me naked was important?”

“Well it was that or find a way to put a camera in your shower stall.”

Charles sighed heavily. “You know you could have just told me you liked me instead of waiting until I was drunk off my ass and planted myself into your lap.”

“I didn’t think you’d like me back.” Nathan leaned close and kissed him softly, running one large had over Charles’ hair. Charles slipped both arms around Nathan’s neck, returning the kiss. Then both froze in mid-embrace, listening to a strange noise in the yard. They released each other, trying to decipher the sounds.

"Was that a horse?” asked Nathan. “Man I hate this place. At least if the window wasn't smashed out of the Bentley we could sleep there."

Charles moved to one of the shack's grimy windows and peered into the storm.

“I heard a horse... I don't see a horse, but I heard one.” He continued to look, but saw nothing other than the rain and lightning, and the trees blowing in the wind. He heard the horse again, and would have sworn it was right in the yard, but again saw nothing.

“I heard a horse,” said Charles insistently.

"I did too. Screw it. Charlie help me up. We gotta see if we can find some info around here, like a diary or something. This place is haunted.”

“Nathan, your ankle is wrecked. The only way you're walking is if I support you.”

Nathan stared at Charles. "Charlie there is no way you can support me."

“Well, we're going to find out, aren't we?” Charles slipped Nathan's arm around his shoulders. “I’ll pull you up. You can't put any weight on your ankle or knee. Ready?”

“Yeah, go for it.”

Charles pulled, and Nathan screamed. Dammit the break didn't hurt as bad as the inflammation and the sensation of bone chips grinding against fevered tissue.

"Put me down, fucking hell Charlie just put me down! Dammit just moving it was enough. Hurts like hell. Must have done something to it in the accident. I know I cracked my ankle sliding down the hill, everything else must have been jarred around in the crash.”

Charles was very concerned for Nathan's condition. He couldn’t properly care for him here, and he was becoming worried. “You're going to have to stay here. You need to rest. I'll look around and see if I can find anything.”

"Look in the bedroom. If there's a diary or anything it will be there. And be careful.”

“Alright.”

Charles pressed a quick, shy kiss to Nathan's forehead before straightening up. He checked to see if Slambi was saying put, then made his way over to the bedroom. Nathan seemed to think of their potential threat as supernatural, but Charles was certain that if there is anything out there, it was much more human in nature; a delusional fan, another hired assassin, or just some local crazy; they've encountered all of them before. It was true he would feel better if he had his gun, but he was confident in his ability to protect Nathan without it. Still, he didn’t see the harm in looking around; it would humour Nathan and give himself something to do. Especially now that it looked like his faint hopes of using their sudden seclusion for more... intimate activities have been sufficiently dashed.

The bedroom Charles entered was small. Once upon a time it had been neatly kept and rustic. Now it just looked like any other haunted house, especially with the former owner there on the bed. Charles paused at the sight of the corpse. Okay, maybe it did creep him out a bit to have a dead body in the shack, but he tried to calm himself. This wasn’t the fresh bleeding corpse of an enemy or the mutilated remains of an unfortunate roadie; this was just a man who died in his bed.

Charles stepped slowly and looked quietly through the room. There was a braided rug on the floor, little night stands on either side of the hand-crafted wooden bed, and a footlocker at the foot of the bed. The only other furniture was a little dresser dotted with bits of the dead man's life; photos of nameless people in nameless places, and a picture of what seemed to be the dead man before the shack in happier days, holding the bridles of a pair of truly gigantic black horses. There was also a dusty red book amidst the pictures. Reluctant to have his back to the body for any length of time, Charles snapped up the book on the dresser and, without looking through it, departed, eager to leave the room.

Nathan grinned as he watched Charles scoot out of the bedroom. Poor guy. He doubted very much that Farmer Brown in there had cursed this place, but it was still scary to have him lying there. And something was certainly not right. Nathan had a hard time believing that anything human was out in that storm. It was pounding the little cabin like a judgement. He wouldn't be surprised if they got smacked by a tree.

Charles hurried back over by the fire, dropping into his chair and handing the book to Nathan. “I saw it on the dresser. I admit I didn't look much farther than that, but I suddenly didn't feel very comfortable looking through a dead man's things with the dead man watching me.”

"Charlie he's not watching us," said Nathan. "He's asleep."

“He's dead not sleeping. And I know he's not actually watching. I just... didn't like being in there.” Charles settled back in his chair as Nathan examined the book, rubbing his own arms, feeling rather cold for some reason.

Nathan opened the book to the first page. "The Diary of Fred G. Smithson. First entry is 1950." Nathan read slowly. "Well I bought the land I wanted. Only thing to do is build the house and bring Ruby here from her mother's house. I bought a pair of stallions - big bastards, the seller says they're Percherons. I wouldn't know but they're big enough to clear stumps, that's for damned sure."

Nathan slowly read through the diary. Fred and Ruby's life had not been happy. Fred said little about Ruby's background, but it was clear she was not the sort of girl who was used to hauling stumps and clearing land. She was miserable and Fred couldn't seem to please her. Then she began having an affair with a wealthy man, and left Fred and his Percherons. Fred made the best of the situation, but somewhere along the way he had made an enemy, though it was clear Fred had no idea who that may be. He spoke of strange illness that claimed his animals, the disappearance of his dog, odd maladies that manifested in himself. He was being harassed constantly by nocturnal happenings, waking up to find strange sigils and wards left on his porch. The final straw was the murder of his beloved Percherons. The gigantic animals were left butchered in his front yard, and yet Fred never heard a sound all night. Then there was the final entry, where Fred began to fear that, now all of his animals were gone, he was next on the nocturnal stalker's list. He spoke of being convinced he could hear his Percherons being ridden hard in the woods, his dog howling, and the distant scream of a man he did not know. Then Fred went to bed and never woke up.

“Well, if I ever doubted my ability to stay awake all night, I certainly don't now,” said Charles.

Nathan slowly closed the book and set it aside. "Yeah me either." He pulled Charles into his lap and held him tightly, then glanced over at Slambi. "It went for the animals first..."

Charles went readily into Nathan’s arms. He turned his gaze to Slambi as well, frightened despite his scepticism. He did a good job at playing the ruthless, cold-hearted bastard day in and out, but in truth his cold, mechanical heart had a couple of soft spots, and one of them belonged to animals; especially baby animals he had bonded with.

“Don't say that,” said Charles, shivering.

"I think he's safe so long as he stays inside," said Nathan. "But come morning we are leaving if we have to walk."

“Oh, I quite agree,” said Charles.

"I feel sorry for Fred,” said Nathan. “Ruby knew he was a farmer when she married him."

“I wonder why she did marry him, then, if she knew that wasn't the life for her? It couldn't have been for money,” said Charles.

"Maybe she just... didn't know," said Nathan. "I mean if she lived in a big house with servants her whole life maybe she just didn’t understand how hard it would be. Or maybe she was just lonely here. But he said there were other cabins. There were five or six families in this area at one time. I dunno. That librarian Skwisgaar liked for a while didn't know how to handle the way we live, either. Maybe it was similar."

Charles nodded slightly. “Maybe. Sometimes two people just aren't a good fit, no matter how they may start off feeling.”

Nathan nuzzled Charles. "Well that would make me sad..."

“Me too.” Charles began idly trailing Nathan's hair between his fingers. “Of course, no relationship can work if one or both people aren't putting any effort into it. And then of course, sometimes relationships fall apart through no real fault of anyone. And sometimes relationships that shouldn't work... sometimes they turn out better than most.” He kissed Nathan. “Sometimes you just get lucky.”

"I would like us to work," said Nathan. "Even though... I dunno. I don't think we will. Not because I don't want us to but... I dunno. I know I'm... not exactly what you want to take home to your parents."

“We can try to make us work,” said Charles softly. He kissed him again, laughing briefly. “And I'm dying to take you home to my family.”

Nathan grinned. "You educated trust-fund babies are all the same; can't wait to drag the puke-stinking drunk rock star home to mama."

Charles laughed again, nuzzling playfully. “Oh, my mother will love you. So will my sisters. My father... Well, he can just consider it karmic payback for conceiving me in the back of some hippie's van at an Aerosmith concert.”

Nathan grinned. "Then you should be dating Steven Tyler."

“Nah, I'd just make my mother jealous.”

Nathan laughed, then kissed Charles softly. "So when do we get a chance to do a little 'conceiving' of our own? Hm?"

Charles returned the kiss, deepening it, briefly nibbling his bottom lip. “We can get started on that any time you like. I only request a five minute notice.”

"Requests?" Nathan growled. "Dethklok don't take no steenking requests." He kissed him softly, drawing him against his chest. However the change of position made everything from his ankle up suddenly scream in raging agony. "Charlie... get up...."

“Hmm? ...Oh!” Charles moved off of Nathan “Sorry.”

"Not your fault," said Nathan. "Fucking hell that hurt! I think I'll take that pill you offered me now, though. Man I'll be glad when this night is over." He breathed deep the scent of roasting deer. "I think Slambi's mom should be just about ready to come off the spit."

~*~*~*~

Part Three

~*~*~*~

Charles relocated the prescription bottle, shaking a pill out into Nathan's hand, then frowns as he peered at the bottle’s label. “You'll need to eat fairly soon after taking this. Though I can't say I'm entirely comfortable with eating our new friend's mother.”

"Well he won't know it's his mother we're eating if we don't tell him. Besides we're not making him eat it."

Charles looked down at Slambi thoughtfully. “I suppose he doesn't know it's his mother, does he?”

Nathan shook his head. "No, he's pretty sure you're his mother. You fed him. He's just a baby so wherever the milk comes from... that's mom.”

Charles brightened. “He thinks I’m mom? Well, that's... aw, that's sort of sweet, actually.”

Nathan looked at the little animal. “I was thinking of tanning her hide so... he can like... sleep with her at night. But I don't know it that's comforting or just sick."

Charles winced. “Bit of both I think. Well... We'll see how he feels about it. Maybe he'll like having something that smells like him.”

Nathan nodded. "Yeah and it will give me something to do with my hands. I just thought... you know... I guess in some ways it is sick but... she's his mom and she would have wanted to be with him. This way she kinda is."

Charles thought. “It's... both sick and sweet at the same time.”

"Yeah well it's my fault she's dead so I guess I need to do what I can to make it up to him."

“You saved his life and provided milk. How many other people would have even thought to get the fawn?” He kissed Nathan's face. “I'd say you're doing good.”

"I killed his mom," said Nathan. "I'm just glad he's not a human so he'll never figure out I'm the bastard who made him an orphan." He managed to ease himself out of the chair and over to the hanging carcass, clearly still in a great deal of pain. He began to carefully skin it. Outside the wind whipped, and a dog screamed in agony. Charles and Nathan exchanged glances, but otherwise pretended they did not hear it.

“Hitting the deer was an accident. People hit deer every day,” said Charles softly as he settled on the floor by Slambi. “And he likes you. You like Nathan, don't you, Slambi?”

Slambi remained still. One can never be too careful when you're little and spotty. Charles melted visibly. “Such a good boy.”

Nathan rolls his eyes as he deftly skinned the deer. “Charles you’re scaring me. Stop it.”

Something moaned outside. Nathan was getting used to the freakish noises outside, especially since Fred said that was all they were - noises. Nathan removed the hide, then the deer’s brain. Removing the brain was easy enough - her skull had been badly damaged in the impact. Nathan began tanning the hide, willing this horrible night to end. He pretended not to hear the horses running, the dog screaming, the man crying out by the river. Then... Nathan smelled something. Not the horrible rotting smell but the scent of pipe tobacco. Nathan got the creepy feeling that Fred was up and coming to have a look-see at the visitors. He glanced over at Charles, who was sniffing the air. He had done his best to ignore the noises as well, occupying himself by petting and talking to Slambi or watching Nathan work, fascinated by these newly discovered (at least by him) skills. He rubbed lightly at his nose, smelling the tobacco almost as soon as Nathan.

“Mmph... Do you smell that?” asked Charles.

"Yeah," said Nathan softly. "I think Fred's up. Maybe... maybe we should offer him something. I mean... we're in his house..."

Charles couldn’t help but let a little of his scepticism show through. “What could we offer a dead man?”

Nathan sighed. He was not about to try to explain this to Charles. Charles dealt with the real world - facts and numbers and deadlines and details. He was not a man who put a lot of belief in other-worldly things. Nathan, on the other hand, believed. And so did his bandmates.

"Just a bit of our coffee and meat. It's... just respectful."

Charles rolled his eyes but did as Nathan asked. He was willing to concede that his view of the supernatural was odd at best. He had seen trolls raised from eternal slumber by the power of metal, after all, so he couldn’t possibly be a complete sceptic; mythical creatures, curses, the Goddamned devil himself, he couldn’t risk not believing in them. But ghosts... people lingering after death... he was not so sure. But then again, there was no harm in just going along with it for Nathan's sake.

“Simple enough. We can spare it.”

Nathan grinned. "Thanks for humouring me."

As Charles set out a bit of meat and coffee for the ghost, Nathan smeared the hide with brains, then carefully folded it once in half to keep the brains from drying out before he left it to process. He slowly stood up, but did not go to the rocking chair he had been sitting in. He had the odd feeling that it was occupied. Instead he limped over to the rotting couch, covering it with one of the emergency blankets before sitting on it, glad to be off his feet. He glanced over at Charles, who was cutting meat, then looked down at Slambi. The last he saw the little deer was on a pillow. Now he was in a dog bed on a mattress of fresh meadow grass and flowers.

"Charlie? Where did you find the bed and flowers?"

“Hm?” Charles looked up at Nathan, thinking he misheard him. “Where did I find what?”

Nathan pointed to the deer. Slambi blinked back at Charles, snuggled into a doggie bed on a heap of sweetgrass. Charles stared, blinking, then looked back at Nathan.

“Did you do that?”

Nathan shook his head. "I thought you did."

“No... No, I didn't. I... put him on the pillow, wrapped in my jacket.”

Nathan grinned. "So do you still not believe in ghosts?"

Charles kept staring at the bed, blinking as if he expected it to vanish any moment. “I... I only turned my back for a few seconds, I... I didn't hear anything...”

Slambi raised his head and sniffed. Nope, no wolves here! Nathan reached down to pet his tiny head.

"That's why it's call the supernatural, Charles. I'm not gonna try to convince you of it but... well I've seen enough things that I don't question it anymore."

Charles moved over to Nathan, sitting beside him, not certain he liked this. Nathan kissed him gently.

"It's okay Charles. Fred's not gonna hurt us. It's that thing outside we have to watch for."

Charles manoeuvred himself under Nathan's arm, huddling against him. “And if it comes inside?”

"I don't think it can." said Nathan. "Everything it hurt was outside this cabin. Fred might have had a way of keeping it outside. The only thing we know is it went for the animals first. Whatever it was, it killed the animals first."

Charles glanced fearfully at his little speckled ‘son’. “I really wish you'd stop saying that.”

"I don't like it anymore than you do. I mean look at the little guy. He can't defend himself. He needs us to do it. Look I know you don't believe in this stuff but supernatural beings behave according to their own set of laws that we can't comprehend. If it is hurting the animals first there must be a reason. So as long as that little baby is safe, we're safe."

Charles left Nathan’s side briefly to stroke Slambi's head, murmuring to him. “I won't let anything happen to you.” He then returned to Nathan, pressing close, turning his head to nuzzle him. “Or you.”

"Let's just make sure our collective asses stay inside. It's only midnight. The sun won't be up for another seven hours. Let's just be careful. I have a feeling it's going to try to lure us out. Or scare us out."

Charles snuggled close, resting his head on Nathan's chest. “Well, there's very little that could make me want to go out there.”

There is the sudden high-pitched scream of a frightened infant. Nathan held Charles close.

"Yeah but monsters don't fight fair,” he said quietly.

Charles closed his eyes. “That's not real, right?”

"No," said Nathan softly. "It's not real. No matter what we hear out there, Charlie, it's not real."

Charles nodded. “Okay...”

After a while the ‘baby’ stopped crying. The horses galloped, then all was still save for the angry wind tearing and biting at the house. Then there came a familiar sound; that Wisconsin accent with the near-yodeling quality to it.

"Nathan! Ahfdensen!"

Charles sat up, head snapping in the direction of the cry. He almost called back, but then looked to Nathan. “That's also not real?”

"It might be," said Nathan. "You sit here and hold onto Slambi. If it really is Pickles then we're getting our asses out of here." He forced himself to his feet, huffing in pain, and limped over to the door and opened it. "Pickles! We're down here!" There was a long silence. "PICKLES!" Nathan stared into the darkness, but saw nothing. He closed the cabin door and went back to his seat. "It's not him."

Charles picked up Slambi and held the little deer in his lap, murmuring soothingly to him, then looked at Nathan as he sat down. “Damn. I'd started to hope. I'm really starting to miss my bed.”

"Yeah I miss your bed too," said Nathan.

Charles raised an eyebrow, grinning. “You've only been in it once. And we didn't even…”

Suddenly the entire cabin shook, as if pounded by a gigantic fist. Slambi made a terrified squeal and began struggling to flee.

"Don't let him go!" yelled Nathan. "It's him this thing wants!"

Charles bent over the terrified fawn, clutching Slambi close to his chest, speaking softly to it. “No, no, no! Don't run! Stay with me, I've got you. Everything's okay.”

Slambi struggled a little while longer, then stopped when he realized he wasn’t getting anywhere. He didn’t have much strength at this age anyway. He was almost calm when the cabin was slammed again and the little fawn began squealing and struggling once more. Then, as if blasted by some violent gust of wind, the cabin door flew open. To Nathan the game seemed obvious; terrify the baby deer into fleeing outside, where it would be weak and easy prey. Charles held Slambi as tightly as he could without hurting him.

“Be still! It's okay. It'll all be okay if you stay still.”

Nathan limped over to the door as quickly as he was able and threw the door shut, planting himself in front of it.

"Blindfold him! He'll stay still if he thinks no one can see him."

Charles held Slambi still with one arm, yanking his tie loose with his free hand. He gently tied the red fabric around the fawn’s eyes, shushing him. “There you go... See? You're safe now. No one can see you.”

Slambi dutifully flattened out in a classic fawn pose. He was clearly terrified, but the red tie convinced him he was safely hidden. The cabin was slammed once more, but instead of trying to run, Slambi simply huddled down further in Charles' lap. He was shaking, but he was still.

“Good boy,” Charles whispered to the fawn. “You're doing such a good job. Stay still and mama will keep you safe.” Ordinarily he would spare a moment to reflect on how ludicrous it was to refer to himself as the ‘mama’ of a baby deer, but with unseen, supernatural forces shaking their shelter it was hardly the time. There was a final slam, but not as powerful as the previous one, and then the pounding stopped. Nathan remained seated by the door, not trusting whatever was out there to be done with its cruel games. Charles remained semi-curled over Slambi, holding him tightly. He raised his head after several minutes of silence, and looked questioningly at Nathan.

“Is it over?”

Nathan listened, alert and tense. "It's not over. It's just changing tactics."

Charles stroked Slambi’s ears. “This is why I don't like ghosts. You can just shoot them. You don’t like ghosts either, do you Slambi?”

Slambi definitely did not like ghosts either. In fact he was having serious doubts about this whole business of being alive. His tiny body was one big bruise and he was scared out of his wits. Charles comforted the little animal.

“It's okay, Slambi. Tomorrow we'll get you home. You won't have to worry about ghosts there. Just... yard-wolves.”

"He's not meeting the yard-wolves," said Nathan. "He's gonna be a house-deer."

“Yes, I was just thinking that life outside may be just a tad… short… since we do own our own pack of timber wolves.”

"We can build him an atrium," said Nathan. "He'll be safe from the wolves and roadies and stray dogs and... well the usual shit that happens around us. But he won't be lonely. He'll have us."

Charles smiled, stroking the little deer. “I wonder how many other people wreck their cars and end up adopting newborn wildlife?”

"I dunno," said Nathan. "He's pretty cute though, huh? Speaking of babies and... making them... why haven't you and I done that yet? I mean we've been going out for three months. You testing me to see if I'm serious?"

Charles looked up, surprised. “Why haven't we...? Well... To be honest, I've been wanting to ask you that question.”

"Well I... I dunno. You usually handle everything. I was like... waiting for you to like… schedule an appointment or something."

Charles stared back, a slight smile on his face. “That's... not exactly the kind of thing you schedule. Unless you're in certain professions.”

Nathan shrugged. "I think you... underestimate like... how much you intimidate me."

Charles blinked, tiling his head to the side. “Why do I intimidate you?”

Nathan shrugged, reluctant to answer the question and somewhat sorry he mentioned it. "Lots of reasons," he mumbled.

“Well... You don't need to be.” Charles smiled almost shyly. “I like you, Nathan. And... as to why we haven't... you know... I've sort of been waiting for you, or for the moment to be right. It just... seems that around our home, every time the moment starts to feel right... something breaks it. We don't really have a lot of opportunity to be alone.”

"Yeah," said Nathan. "And then when we finally take off for a week-long getaway look where we end up." He sighed quietly. "I'm sorry, Charlie."

“You shouldn't be,” said Charles gently. “You haven't done anything wrong.”

"I blew up a deer with your Bentley and landed your ass in a haunted cabin and made you the mother of a small fuzzy woodland critter without even having sex with you. You can't tell me this is what you had in mind for our holiday."

Charles tried not to grin. “Oh, I admit this is... very far from what I had imagined. But it was an accident, Nathan. And... well, if I have to be stranded in a storm in a haunted shack in the middle of nowhere... I'm glad I'm doing it with you.”

Nathan smiled at him. "Good." He sighed quietly. "I’m hungry. Every time the food is coming something acts up. Good thing you’re not stuck here with Pickles. He's hypoglycaemic. Once his blood sugar dips he gets really pissy."

“If I were stuck here with Pickles, I'd have fashioned protective armor from the rusting pots and pans in the kitchen. He scares me sometimes. The, ah, the meat formerly known as Slambi's mother is ready. I can bring some over to you.”

"Thanks," said Nathan. "I'm starving. And... don't be scared of Pickles. He wouldn't hurt a fly unless it seriously messed with him first. He's just defensive. Considering some of the shit his brother Seth did to him as a kid it's a wonder he turned out as well as he did. And Murderface, damn, there's a case of a bunny masking as a wolf if ever I saw one."

Something inscrutable flickered across Charles’ face as Murderface was mentioned, but he didn’t comment on it. He gently settled Slambi back into his bed and cut some of the meat for Nathan, carrying it over to him.

“We’re out of plates. I hope you don’t mind eating off a handful of napkins.”

“Nah I don’t mind. What was the face about?”

“What face?” Charles went over to the emergency box and began searching for pie.

"Charles..." growled Nathan fondly.

Charles located the pies, selecting the kind he wanted before settling beside Nathan. He gave him a puzzled-innocent look. “Nathan?”

Nathan sighed. "You had a thought when I mentioned Murderface. What was it?"

Charles shook his head slightly. “It wasn't much.”

"Tell me. Please. If there's something going on I want to know."

Charles sighed quietly. “I don't want to be the Yoko here. And it's nothing anyway. You know how he just likes to... say things.”

Nathan raised an eyebrow. "Charles.... I would like you to tell me."

Charles sighed again, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don't think he's exactly thrilled that we're... well, that we're an ‘us’ now.”

Nathan nodded. "Yeah I know. It's actually kinda upset all of them because... y'know they're worried about the changes. They don't like change anyway. And... well Murderface really likes you."

Charles raised an eyebrow. “He likes me? I was under the impression he wanted me to... do something to myself that would lead to my rather gory death.”

Nathan laughed quietly. "Yeah I know. The truth is he's carrying a huge freaking torch with your name on it, and he's told me twice that if I hurt you then I'll wake up in his iron maiden. That... that really cool ancient jade statue that you got for your birthday... the little one about a foot high that turned up on your desk? Was from him. I know... I know how he comes off. But... he doesn't want to hurt you Charles. He just knows you'd rather kill yourself than touch him."

Charles started in absolute astonishment. “Oh, wow... well that idea is going to keep me awake at night for a week at least. Well, whatever the reason he does it... He's actually very good at hurting me.”

"I know," said Nathan quietly. "He does that. Hurts other people before they can hurt him. And I mean look at what you just said. That's not nice. You know offensive as Murderface is it wouldn't kill you to be nice to him. He can't help being fucked up but he's pure gold on the inside."

Charles looked up sharply. “I am never anything but nice to him!”

"You're cold to him," said Nathan softly. "It's not surprising, I understand it. He does his best to keep up the electrified barb-wired fence."

“I find it hard to warm up to someone whose usual greeting to me is either ‘dickface’ or ‘kill yourself’.”

"Yeah I know," said Nathan. "Look Charles you're not obligated to take advice from a guy who once tried to sell a plastic garbage bag as a time-travel device but... he'd get off your back if you just asked him how he was once in a while. I think you'd find a lot of the shit would stop."

Charles looked neither convinced nor pleased with the advice. “Fine, I'll try. But if it doesn't work, I may ask you pull the whole ‘defending my honour’ crap.”

"I'll defend your honour. But I promise he'll back off. And if he doesn't I'll kick his ass. And if he gets too friendly I will definitely kick his ass.”

Charles smiled and leaned against Nathan’s shoulder. “You say the nicest things.”

Nathan fed him a bit of deer meat. "Yeah you're only allowed to dump me for Skwisgaar. But only for an hour… and only if I can watch." Nathan grinned toothily, pulling his arms up defensively in anticipation of a butt-whupping. Charles snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Oh, because that would work out so well for me. Toki will have clawed my eyes out before I could blink them.”

Nathan nuzzled him. "Yeah poor little Toki has it so bad for Skwisgaar. They'll get together, they're just... not real sure what to do with each other."

Charles returned the nuzzling. “I can imagine. Toki's so sweet. I think he's kind of happy for us.

"Toki is happy because to him it looks like family unity. He'll be even happier when he can get the Blonde Bitch to admit he loves him."

“I hope it happens soon. They deserve to be happy,” said Charles.

Nathan ate the meat, drinking his coffee. Outside the storm pounded and howled, and the wind screamed like a banshee. "My back is getting cold," said Nathan. "And I need to work on the hide. Wanna help me move over to the fire?”

“Of course.” Charles slipped under his arm again. “Ready?”

"No," pouted Nathan, because he knew how much this was going to hurt. He drew a steadying breath, then nodded. "Okay, count of three, you pull and I'll push. One... two..... fuck this is gonna hurt… THREE!"

Charles pulled. Nathan screamed swore and howled, but managed to get to his feet.

"Christ on a fucking jam-smeared cracker that hurt! Oh man I may have to skip that interview you wanted me to do with that entertainment reporter Monday. Aw gee I'm heartbroken." He grinned. Nathan hated the wench and the feeling was mutual, but the show was very prestigious.

Charles helped Nathan back over by the fire as quickly and carefully as possible, helping him to sit on the floor so he could work the hide. “I'm sure she'll be devastated as well. And you bet your ass you're skipping it. If you think I'm letting you walk anywhere other than the bathroom once we're home, you're crazy.”

Nathan pouted. It was no fun skipping interviews if Charles said he could. Charles noticed the look and grinned.

“Aw. Did you want me to say no?”

"No," Nathan said... and pouted.

Charles kept grinning. “Well... really try to make the interview. You'll have to be on crutches.”

"Nah it's no fun now. You already said I could stay home. But you could always send Skwisgaar. You know how much she loves being the one woman on the planet he won't go anywhere near."

Charles nodded. “That’s a good idea.” He settled down beside Nathan. “Entertaining as well.”

Nathan began working on the skin, seated on the floor, his bad leg stuck straight out. He glanced over at the dog bed to check on the fawn, and froze. The bed was empty, the tie was in a knot on the floor, and Slambi was gone.

"Charlie… where's the baby?"

~*~*~*~

Part Four

~*~*~*~

Nathan forced himself to his feet and began looking around. He took one of the Coleman lamps that were in the roadside emergency kit began looking around the cabin. He wished he could remember the doe call his father had taught him; he found it more believable Slambi would come to that than his name.

"Charlie you look in the kitchen."

Charles did. “He’s not in here. He’s not anywhere. Where could he have gone? The door is shut!”

“I’m gonna look outside.”

“You can't go outside! You said that's what it wants!”

"I'm not letting this thing kill Slambi." Nathan hop-limped over to the door, opening it, Charles following close after him.

“I don't want it to kill you!”

“If it kills Slambi it's coming for us next!" Nathan limped outside, looking around. He pointed down at the sodden earth, indicating tiny dents cut into the wet ground. "Look. You tell me those are not fawn prints. Stay here. I'll get him."

“I won't leave you alone!”

"Charlie just stay HERE!" Nathan began following the trail.

Charles began following him. “You know I won't.”

"In case he comes back. Charles go sit in the cabin!"

“I am NOT leaving you out here to wander around, get lost, and end up floating face down in the river.”

“What makes you think I would do that?”

“I know you,” grumbled Charles.

"Then stay close. Come on. We have to hurry or the rain will wipe away these prints."

Nathan followed the tracks through the mud, trailing the wandering path of a very frightened and confused little animal. Charles followed at Nathan's side, worried out of his mind for a tiny creature that didn't even exist a few hours ago. They followed the tracks down to the river and along the bank, Slambi's trail suggesting he was scared and moving as fast as his wobbly little baby-legs would take him. Then they turned a corner and found him, lying in the mud, overwhelmed with fear and cold. Charles let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh, thank God.” He moved around Nathan to reach Slambi, kneeling beside him. “Poor baby. You're okay now.”

Slambi was chilled to the bone, his coat was soaked and filthy, and at first he didn’t seem alive. He was lying in front of the burned ruins of some sort of building; possibly the remains of one of the cabins that had once housed Fred's neighbours. Nathan was not sure why, but somehow he knew this was the place - this was where all the evil and horror was coming from. Nathan stood staring at the dead cabin.

"Take Slambi back to the house," said Nathan quietly. "He needs to get warm." He began slowly limping towards the house.

Charles gathered up the little deer into his arms. As Nathan spoke, Charles looked up sharply.

“You're not going in there?”

"I just need to look," said Nathan quietly.

Charles stood up, Slambi in his arms. “Isn't that what it wants?”

"I just have to look. I won't go in. I just have to look."

Nathan limped over to the cabin. He didn't know what this thing wanted, exactly. He just knew it had a set manner of killing, and it was probably pissed that it didn't get to kill Slambi. Nathan pulled open the rotting charred remains of the door and peered inside, then uttered a noise of revulsion.

"Oh fucking hell. I found Fred's dog. And about two dozen other animals. This is it. This is where it takes them to kill them.”

Charles held Slambi tighter. “Nathan... Please, get away from there.”

Nathan seemed to consider something, then nodded. He closed the door, then limped over to a window, shining the lamp into the darkness of the burned cabin.

"Yeah. There's nothing we can do in this rain anyway. This shitheap wouldn't burn no matter what we did. Let's get the fuck out of...." With surprising speed Nathan lunged into the window and grabbed something, then turned. "Let's go! Move!"

Charles was startled but obeyed, turning and hurrying back the way they came with Slambi clutched to his chest. Nathan limped after Charles as fast as he could. To their left could be heard the crashing of a very large animal, like a horse but Nathan didn’t stop to find out. They reached Fred's cabin and darted inside, slamming the door. Nathan shoved Fred's rocking chair in front of the door and dropped into it, soaking wet, cold, and in a huge amount of pain, rubbing his injured leg. Charles sat down heavily on the floor beside the fire, holding Slambi close. Outside they could hear the stamping and thumping of a large animal circling the cabin. Soon however the sound faded away.

“What was that? What did you take?” Charles asked Nathan.

Nathan wearily held up a book. "Back then... people kept diaries. I saw this and took a chance it wasn't a copy of Tom Sawyer. How’s the little guy?”

“Cold. I have no idea what sort of an effect this will have on him. He’s shaking. How did he get outside?”

“Pass him here. There's a small towel in the emergency kit. We’ll get him dry.”

Charles crawled over to the overturned kit, yanking out the towel and tossing it to Nathan, who caught it and began drying the fawn off.

"Crap what a mess. Is there any milk left?"

Charles moved back to the fire, inspecting the contents of the pot. “Just a bit. It'll have to do.”

As Charles prepared a bottle, Nathan dried the little guy off as well as he could, feeling an enormous rush of relief as Slambi raised his little head, floppy ear hanging. When the bottle arrived he greedily sucked down what milk there was, and seemed more than happy to settle down into Charles' arms as Nathan passed him over.

"He stays on somebody's lap for the rest of the night,” said Nathan.

“Agreed,” said Charles.

He rose to his feet to limp slowly and heavily over to the couch, sitting down on it heavily. He looked over at Charles, Slambi in his lap. Poor little guy. Not even a day old and already traumatized. Slambi huddled close to Charles, shivering. Nathan meanwhile opened the book and began leafing through it.

“What’s it say?” asked Charles.

"This is the diary of a woman named Mary. Seems Mary didn't like the cabin her husband built very much. Seems she didn't like him a whole fuck of a lot either. In fact Mary's pretty sure the bastard killed his two daughters."

Charles gently rubbed Slambi's back and sides with the towel, trying to comfort and warm him. “How lovely...”

"She's not sure. I mean she’s got no proof. All she knows is she walked into town to get a few things, came home and they were gone. There’s even a newspaper clipping in here talking about the missing children, three and five years of age. People seemed to think they wandered into the river and were swept away.”

Outside the horse ominously paced. Charles glanced in the direction of the sound, but it seemed safely locked outside for now.

“Well that does happen to children,” said Charles.

“Uh huh. Yeah it does but how many end up being found five days later with matching skull wounds? The diary mentions something the newspaper clipping didn’t, though. The girls had a pet fawn. The night before they vanished somebody killed it. The fawn was the last living animal on their farm. All the others died.”

“The animals died first,” said Charles quietly.

“Are you starting to notice a theme here?”

“What else does the diary say?”

Nathan flipped a page. "Nothing. It just stops." He tossed the book aside. "Well that was a whole lot of no help. Unless Scooby-Doo shows up in the next few hours I don't think we're gonna find out what's going on." He cocked his head, listening. "Sounds like the storm is letting up."

Charles stroked Slambi gently, his expression thoughtful. “Fred... Ruby... Mary... Her husband... The man Ruby was having an affair with... Two dead girls...”

"What's up? Have a theory?" asked Nathan.

Charles sighed quietly. “Trying to come up with one.”

"No wonder no one has ever come down here," said Nathan. "The locals probably know better."

Charles said softly, almost to himself; “Could they have been the same person...?”

"Mary and Ruby? What makes you say that?"

Charles shook his head. “No not Mary and Ruby. I don't think Ruby and Mary were the same person, I think the bastard they were involved with was. Mary's husband wanted sons. Mary only had daughters. So he kills Mary and runs off with Ruby. Why? Because Ruby has more money and a higher social status. Which is a great plot for a soap but doesn't explain those butchered animals. Why would he want to torture Fred? What did he do? He didn't seem to put up a fight when Ruby left.”

"Maybe Fred didn't have much fight left. Finding out his wife didn't want him seemed to have taken a lot of the fight out of him." Nathan looked thoughtful. "Maybe Fred got even some way."

“What on earth could Fred have done to provoke what we found in that cabin?”

"I dunno. Hand me Fred's diary. Maybe I overlooked something."

Charles tossed Nathan the diary, then helped himself to Nathan’s leftover deer meat. He had forgotten to eat in all the excitement, and he was quite hungry. Suddenly a perplexed expression crossed his face; eyes widening as realization set in, then disgust for a brief moment, then finally resignation. He sighed heavily.

“What?” asked Nathan.

“Slambi decided that now was a good time to wee all over mummy's lap.”

Nathan just chuckled in his quiet, rough voice. He took the diary and began reading. "I have a clean pair of jeans in the car."

“Well that’s just swell. Back up the wet hill. With the ghosts. Thank you, I think I’ll just run around in my shorts. Hold the little leaker for me.”

“Sure. C’mere, leaker. Yeah just rinse off the spot and hang the pants to dry. No way the three of us are leaving this cabin until the sun comes up. Brutal. Me without my shirt, you without your pants and jacket and tie.... we look like we had way more fun than we did."

“Yes, it is entirely unfair.”

Charles rinsed off his pants and hung them to dry, painfully aware that he may end up fleeing for his life in his undies. He wrapped the third of the three emergency blankets around himself, then accepted Slambi back from Nathan before he sat on the couch, placing the fawn on his lap.

“Now don’t do that again,” Charles said to the baby deer.

"At least if he craps on you, its just little balls that roll away."

“Charming, Nathan. Thank you.”

Nathan resumed reading Fred's diary while Slambi shivered in Charles’ lap. Charles drew part of the blanket over the little deer, and for a long while all was peaceful. The storm was still raging, but it seemed to have lost some of its anger, and it seems as if the worst is over.

Nathan pointed to something in the book. "Fred did do something. He did something to the bastard that stole his wife. He doesn't say what though. That's why I missed it the first time I read. All he says is he hopes the bastard chokes on the apples he sent over."

“Poison, maybe?” suggested Charles.

Nathan shook his head. "I don't know. But Fred did do something. I don't blame him. I mean if someone took you from me and started killing my animals I'd do a fuck of a lot more than poison his apples."

“Well… wait, did Fred send the apples before or after the animals started dying?”

Nathan looked through the diary. “Well Fred didn’t exactly brag about his crime, I had to sort of read between the lines.” Nathan read a bit further. “Okay it was after the animals started to die. In fact Fred didn't react until after his wife had left and the first few animals died. Seems before then he was just trying to live in peace."

“So this bastard just starting killing his animals for sport?”

Nathan shrugged. "It's hard to tell. Fred's not a ranter. He seems to have been someone who really believed in the principle of 'love thy neighbour'. In this case it was 'love thy neighbour until he finally breaks your camel's back'. But... this all seems to have started because a few of Fred's pigs got loose. Mary talks about it in her own diary. The pigs came over and ate her garden. But Fred replaced the vegetables. That should have been the end of it."

“But this person apparently decided it wasn't good enough...”

"Some people aren't big on forgiveness," said Nathan.

“Obviously not, if he's still keeping it up even after everyone involved is dead.”

“It’s just hard to figure out what went on. Neither Mary nor Fred really talk about it. There are little hints all over the place but nobody’s talking. Just seems to me that Mary’s husband was some kinda evil. Mary does mention that when their dog had puppies, instead of giving them away to the other families who wanted them, he took a hatchet and killed them. In fact he made the mother dog watch, then killed her… Hey. Fred mentioned the dog dying in his diary. Said Loco and her pups were the first to die.”

“So he killed the animals, then the little girls?” said Charles. “For what reason? Why would he do that?”

Nathan shrugged. “I dunno. Why did Robert Pickton kill forty-nine prostitutes and feed them to his pigs? Some people are just evil. Sounds like this guy was, too. He sounds like the sort of guy who could make a blood feud out of a trashed garden.” Nathan sighed quietly. "I wonder if we should risk an escape?"

“Even if we make it to the car, there's no guarantee it'll be in working condition.”

From outside the kitchen window came a scratching sound, like a dog wanting inside, then a soft, insane giggling that sounded like a little girl. Nathan glanced over at Charles holding the little deer in his arms. Even without Slambi, there was no way Nathan could make it up the hill if something decided to chase them. The cabin seems the safest place to be.

"I wish I knew what the right thing to do was,” said Nathan.

“We stay here. We make it through the night. That's all we need to do.”

Nathan shook his head. "Charlie if something happens to you and it's my fault I won't be able to survive it."

“Nothing will happen. We're safe in here.”

"I'm scared, Charles. I really am."

“I know, Nate. Me too. But it's okay.”

The wind picked up, and there came the distant scream of a massive horse suffering some sort of inexplicable agony. Nathan left the chair and limped slowly and awkwardly over to the couch, sitting beside Charles. He pulled Charles closer and buried his face against his neck.

"If anything comes through the door we head for the car, okay? Even if it doesn't work."

Charles kissed the top of his head. “Okay. But everything's going to be okay, Nate. I promise.”

Nathan nodded, and reluctantly released him. "I'm gonna go pay one last visit to Fred. I... I need to know if... if there's something he has that's keeping the ghosts away."

“I wish you’d stay off that leg.”

“I will when I feel safe.”

“Be careful.”

Nathan nodded. He managed to rise to his feet, and limped once more to the bedroom where Fred still slept. He paused to look at the body, lying where it had for nearly sixty years.

"Uh... don't mind me Fred. I uh... I just... need to know if... if you have anything to keep the ghosts away."

He began carefully looking around the little room, looking in drawers and boxes. He found three bottles of seventy-two year old scotch stashed in the wardrobe. It probably wouldn't keep the ghosts away, but it would be awful good. Now if he could just find some sort of talisman or amulet.

"Come on Fred, you must have had something that kept them at bay..."

A spider thumped down from the beam above his head and sat on his face. Nathan had serious doubts that this is what was keeping them safe.

“Brutal,” he mumbled.

Charles remained in his chair, guarding the door and their little adopted lovechild, murmuring softly to him about the new home that is awaiting him and all his crazy new uncles. Slambi raised his head to kiss his adopted mama. He seems to have learned his lesson about wandering off. Then Nathan walked into the livingroom with three bottles of scotch and a large house spider on his face.

"Okay I have good news and bad news. Fred didn't have anything to keep away ghosts, but he has these instead."

Charles looked up as Nathan entered, grinning a mile at the sight of the bottles, but then freezing when his gaze reaches Nathan's face, eyes growing wide.

“Uh… Nathan?”

"It's a lucky spider," said Nathan as he sat down. He picked it off his face and put it on the floor, shooing it away, then offered Charles a bottle. "Let's not get too wasted. And believe me it hurts to say that." He watched as Slambi became very interested in the bottle. After all, bottles were where milk came from, right? Nathan sighed. "He's hungry again."

Charles watched the spider closely, assuring himself that it was making its twitchy way away from them as he stroked Slambi's chin. The spider paused, as if sensing Charles' discomfort. Then it continued on its journey back to the bedroom. Charles returned his attention to Slambi.

“I know,” said Charles “And we do not have anymore milk.”

"I got all I could out of the mother," said Nathan. "I wonder if...?" He looked in the box of things they had brought down from the car, and grinned in triumph. "Organic hand-churned vanilla ice cream. I'll thin it with a bit of water. It's not proper food but at least it's calories."

“It'll be melted halfway to hell by now,” said Charles. “Why did we bring ice cream on an eight-hour road trip, anyway?”

“Because somebody short and cute with big brown eyes needs to go to the Betty Ford clinic for his pie addiction.”

“It’s not an addiction, it’s a fondness.”

“Uh huh. Like Dr. Rockso has a fondness for cocaine.”

“Just make up the bottle.” Charles grinned at Slambi. “Lucky boy. Not a day old and already you get ice cream.”

Slambi kissed his mama, broken ear drooping, while daddy made him a snack of melted ice cream. The offering was received most enthusiastically, but Nathan was sensing a change in the atmosphere.

"Charlie," he said softly, "I’m gonna gather up anything we need. I've got a bad feeling."

Charles looked up, feeling somewhat uneasy, but not as strongly as Nathan. However there was an odd, leaden, oppressive feeling in the air; a dead heaviness that often heralded a massive storm.

“No, you sit here and hold Slambi,” said Charles. “I’ll gather that stuff up.”

Nathan shrugged, but changed places with Charles. He took Slambi, who refused to relinquish his hold on the bottle for even a second.

"Take Fred's diary too,” said Nathan, then changed his mind. “No... wait. Leave it. It's not ours. What time is it?”

Charles glanced at his watch. “Five after two. Why?”

“Some say three-fifteen in the morning is the most active time for spirits. I have a funny feeling in about an hour things are gonna get plenty exciting. I want us ready to move.”

“Three fifteen... Witching hour? Wasn't that the time every night when things got... exciting in ‘The Amityville Horror’?”

"Yeah," said Nathan. "Except you should know that the Amityville Horror was a hoax perpetrated by the homeowners. They confessed to it years later.”

“I am aware that it was simply the Lutz family attempting to capitalize on the DeFeo murders,” conceded Charles. “But it was still scary as shit when I was a kid.”

Nathan grinned. "Yeah scared the snot out of me too. But... even if the movie was like… fake… that hour is not. And we have to be prepared."

Charles moved quickly, folding two of the blankets and putting the kit back together; the third blanket, the one that has been sitting on the couch, they will leave. Nathan busied himself with finishing up the hide, one eye on the time. Charles finished packing up their emergency kit, then checked his pants. Fortunately fawn pee didn’t smell much at all, but he was not a man who cared for wearing dirty clothes. Still, soiled clothes were better than no clothes. He put on the pants, did up his shoes, then hunted around for his tie, only to find Slambi was wearing it.

“Cute,” said Charles. Nathan just grinned.

At 3:11 the hide was tanned, though still a little damp. Nathan folded it up and tucked it into the box, then waited, dreading what might be coming. At 3:15 exactly everything went dead silent, as if the storm had been turned off with a switch. Nathan managed to get to his feet as Charles quickly stepped closer to him.

"You'll have to drive, my leg won't bend" said Nathan, looking towards the door as he heard the sound of a horse walking in the mud, huffing and snorting, the harness jingling. “You carry Slambi. I’ll grab the kit.”

“Do we really need it?”

“We’re an hour and a half from anywhere, if the car doesn’t start we’ll definitely need it.”

“Assuming we survive the monsters,” said Charles.

“It always went for the animals first. Just protect Slambi and we should be fine.”

Something dug at the door, and Nathan drew back, keeping Charles close. Charles had Slambi bundled in one of the blankets in his arms, and Slambi was huddled as close to his mama as he could get, terrified. From the back of the house came the grunting and snorting of a boar, and the sound of voices whispering. The fire was flickering crazily, as if something is trying to blow it out.

“Maybe it won’t come in…” said Charles.

“I don’t think it can come in,” said Nathan. “But I think maybe it can send in other things. I mean something stole Slambi out of his bed. He didn’t open the door by himself.”

Charles held the baby tighter, moving another step closer to Nathan. Together they listened to the eerie thumping of horse hooves in the mud. Then the door suddenly blew off the frame, and something thundered in, reeking of death. It was a gigantic horse, dead and decaying, ridden by a ghastly figure in the slimed and rotting remains of a flowered dress.

Nathan grabbed Charles and hauled him and Slambi to Fred's room, running inside and shutting the door. Charles had the peculiar sensation of swallowing his own heart as they fled from the miniature apocalypse occurring in the room, hauling ass alongside Nathan. The bedroom smelled strongly of pipe tobacco, as if Fred was trying to reassure them of his presence, but there was little the kindly spirit could do. Nathan snatched up a fireplace poker, though he was not sure what he was going to do with it. Then the door was smashed open, and Nathan threw himself between Charles and the monstrosity, bashing the poker down onto the skull of the horse.

"Charlie get to the car! Run! I'll be right behind you! Just take the baby and go!"

“We have already had the conversation about me not leaving you!” Charles snatched up the small shovel that had been lying beside the poker and swung it at the figure on the horse.

"RUN!" Nathan bellowed at him, eyes gleaming, teeth bared. "Or we're not getting out of here!"

“If your ass is not right behind me, I will come back and kill you myself!”

Charles bolted for the door. The rider turned as if to take after Charles, but even undead Percheron horses take a lot of room to turn around, and it nearly struck Nathan with its flank as it turned. Nathan wound up with all his might and brought the poker down on one of the animal's back legs. The bone shattered, and the horse fell, screaming and thrashing. Nathan ran over top of it, taking care to stomp the creature riding it, and ran as fast as he was able after Charles, taking the kit and the poker with him. They reached the slope, and Nathan knew he was not going to get up it with any kind of ease.

"Get up there and get Slambi in the car. Take the kit with you and see if the car will start. I'm right behind you."

Charles could not go much faster than Nathan with his arms full of baby deer and emergency kit, the slope slick and muddy beneath his feet, but he made it. He quickly tucked Slambi into the passenger seat, then got in and tried the ignition. It took a few terrifying tries, but the engine finally sputtered, then roars to life. He got out of the car to call to Nathan.

“We're gone! Get up here!

Using the poker to help drag himself up the hill, Nathan finally reached the wounded Bentley and lunged into the back seat, yanking the door shut. "Go! Go! Just go straight to the vacation cottage!”

“Is it chasing us?”

“I’m not looking!”

Charles threw himself behind the wheel, yanking the door shut and stomping on the gas. The tires squealed as he pulled onto the road and drove away as fast as he dared. They had no idea how badly damaged the car was; there was every chance they might not go further than a few hundred yards. Charles did not want to risk giving the damaged car its final death blow.

“Are you all right back there Nathan?”

“Yeah, great, just… fucking marvy.”

Slambi's head was up, nose sniffing busily. Boy it's been a most exciting day! Now where's the ice cream? Charles glanced at him, by now recognizing his ‘food now?’ expression.

“We'll get you more dinner when mommy's heart stops exploding, dear.”

Nathan chuckled. "Thank fucking god I'm wet and filthy, I think I pissed myself."

“I'm already covered with deer piss. That's my camouflage.”

“Just keep driving, Charlie. Drive and don’t stop.”

An hour and a half later, the Bentley limped into the driveway of the little holiday cottage, a single light shining softly through the kitchen window to greet them. Nathan had never been more glad to see chintz curtains in his life.