Current mood:	bitchy
Current music:	Bon Jovi - I'll Sleep When I'm Dead
Entry tags:	30stm, buffy the vampire slayer, hellfire tales, hellfire tales: matt/xander/jared, my chemical romance

Hellfire Tales: Away With The Boys In The Band
full header & part one || part two || part three


Jared managed to twist and reach his ankle in the cramped bus bathroom. He dabbed the chewed up spots on his ankle with peroxide and nearly bit a hole through his cheek trying not to scream.

He hadn't managed to get sight of Matt yesterday. Not really all that surprising. Four stages and twenty-eight bands out on this. Plus crews, merch and catering? Yeah not surprising. Especially once the gates opened and the crowds started milling around.

The phone call from Matt back in March had been... Well, it just plain scared the fuck out of him. There'd been all of four since. Matt's number on the caller ID and whoever on the other end hung up once he'd answered.

He'd tried, once, to call Brian. Not long after that first call in March Shannon ended up talking to the Xander guy. Brian didn't like him. Brian hadn't liked him and Matt together. He didn't think most of My Chem or their crew did even if they'd more or less gotten along before. They really didn't like him after Matt had called things off.

“JARED!” Shannon shouted and tried to beat the damned bathroom door in. Flimsy as it was, Shannon could probably beat it in.

“COMING JESUS!” he shouted back, trying and failing to sound normal as the peroxide bubbled on his chewed up ankle

“Oh for fuck's sake hurry up!” Shannon grumbled.

Judging by Shan's voice, his big brother had come to conclusions of what he was doing in the bathroom and it wasn't trying to clean wounds from the dream rat-things that had gnawed at him when he'd finally lost the battle of staying awake and fallen asleep. Whatever the hell they were, and whatever it was happening the last two years it was getting stronger, or maybe he was just getting weaker. It used to be they stayed in the dreams. Now not so much, he was seeing things awake. He had been for months. Longer than he was willing to admit. He could get away with some of it being dismissed as tricks of light, imagining things out of the corner of his eye, and damn it that's what he was calling it.

Aches followed through from the dreams almost from the beginning. Bruises followed not all that long after. Some of them deliberate enough, precise enough—well, they'd made Matt think he was shooting up something with the bruises on his inner elbows, the tops of his feet and behind his knees. The kind of bruises that by placement and size looked like they could be from blown veins. The first time he'd had cuts on his arm, Matt just...it was get help or else.

The thing was, if there was help Jared hadn't found it. Shannon finally believed him. Shannon had seen a thing or two in Haiti that had him waking up screaming for months but had never to this day told Jared what, not even once all this had come out. He'd looked for help. He'd found a fuck of a lot of quacks, and a few who he believed were the real deal by the way they took one look at him, blanched, said they couldn't do a thing and either told him to leave now, or ran as fast as they could depending where they met him.

It got really really fucking bad after Matt moved all his stuff out. They hadn't exactly officially lived together. Matt had never given up his apartment in Jersey but he'd had a fair amount of clothes and odds and ends at Jared's house outside of LA. Justifiable since My Chem was half based out of LA now, and Riot Squad was. Matt had been there as much as in Jersey, with between time for tours for different bands he'd worked with.

Things improved for a while when Shannon had moved into the house. Some crazy crap about Thresholds made sense. Homes were harder for crap to get into and cause trouble in than a plain ordinary house. Yeah, he'd done a lot of research. A lot of research...which Matt had thought that was part of his mental decline, habit whatever the hell exactly. Nothing like coming up with junkie-like bruises and razor-blade cuts from dreams and becoming obsessed with witchcraft, demons and just the occult in general for ruining a relationship. He couldn't blame Matt for leaving. God, he'd almost been relieved the last thing he wanted was Matt getting caught in whatever the hell this was too.

Shannon was home. As much as anything, more than the house itself. Or Shannon made the house a home at least. Whatever. Not living alone, a 'home' helped a little. Shannon was finally convinced at a hotel when Jared had made his brother go with him for the Sundance Film Festival and they'd shared a room. Shannon had fought and fought with him. Jared had been exhausted to the point of nearly dropping and getting sick. Big brother won that round and all but shoved a couple storebrand versions of Nytol or TylenolPM or something like that down him. Whatever the hell was in his dreams had struck hard that night. Shannon watched not able to wake him up, not completely. Halfway, and somehow Jared's dazed drugged state had managed to pull that thing partway out of his dreams that it could almost get to him when he was awake.

The bus wasn't home. Not even with Shannon. It—was a bus. And yeah...half hour nap just before sunrise left him with chewed ankles and aches and bruises that had nothing to do with the last night's show. He was just glad he'd been wearing shoes. He'd learned the hard way to stay dressed and leave his shoes on in case he fell asleep. What he had on, or didn't have on, followed to the dreams.

Shannon had wanted to call off the tour. His argument that Schechter would probably let them back out of the contract without a fuss was true enough. Schechter had never liked Jared all that much and really didn't like him after Jared and Matt split up. What the hell did they tell Tim and Tomo though? Shechter wouldn't have asked why, just said “good riddance” to them. Of course, Tim and Tomo might believe Jared was just going insane if this kept on too much longer. Hard to hide how fucked up he was getting from this shit on a bus. He was going to give it his best shot though.

He could hear Shannon tapping his drumsticks together as he paced back and forth between the bunks. He winced as he slathered on the antibiotic salve and wrapped his ankles with gauze, then carefully pulled clean socks on over the bandages. He'd been smart and only brought black tennis shoes along with him. Hopefully four pairs would last the tour. The torn and bloodied socks from the night before shoved in a little plastic bag from—whatever Tim had bought at some truckstop convenience store—and stuck in his duffel. Hopefully he remembered to toss them later. Burning them would be much better but he didn't know how he was going to manage that.

“About time,” Shannon grouched.

Jared ignored the comment.

Shannon's eyes narrowed at him.

Jared did his best to ignore that as well.

“Sunglasses. You look like a fricken raccoon.”

“Where are they? And where the hell's my phone?”

Shannon went from worried to fighting panic if his expression was anything to go by. “Jesus how fucked up are you this morning?”

Jared blinked away the sight of the thing, mostly transparent and less than human standing a few feet away. At least he tried to. He was startled out of staring at it by Shannon frisking him.

“You've got your phone on you,” Shannon informed him, quiet and shaken as he patted Jared's back pocket for emphasis. “Right there.”

“Oh, okay. I need coffee.”

“You need sleep,” Shannon swallowed.

“No, I fucking need coffee,” Jared snapped. The words came out more vicious and slightly crazed than he'd intended.

“Okay,” Shannon whispered.

“Coffee.”

“Coffee,” Shannon agreed, his tone placating and hesitant. The kind of tone for dangerous lunatics or someone strung out on god only knew what, unpredictable and edging toward violent.

“Matt—” Jared broke off with a swallow.

“Jay, c'mon,”

“Gotta, that phone call in March.” Jared met his brother's eyes finally. “Gotta. He's called and hung up a few times since.”

Shannon nodded with a sigh. “We'll find Matt. If not today tomorrow. Coffee and Food first okay? Then Matt. No signing or anything today. Where's your sunglasses...and your shirt's buttoned wrong.”

“Dunno,” Jared yawned.

Shannon looked mostly grim as Jared slumped back against the edge of the bunks and yawned again. He muttered something softly under his breath again, Jared didn't hear it over his own yawn. Fuck he needed coffee. He was not sleeping anytime soon. He couldn't. He needed more than coffee and was almost desperate enough to start asking around for something to keep him awake.

He rubbed at his eyes and yawned again, and couldn't be bothered to complain at Shannon re-buttoning his shirt for him, or attempt to do it himself. “Need to move, and need fuckin' coffee.”

“Okay, okay. Sunglasses.” Shannon murmured. He reached past Jared to dig in the bunk and came up with a pair of sunglasses. Jared let Shannon put them on him. They weren't his. Maybe they were Shannon's. Hell, he didn't know. They belonged to whoever it was that had bunk they'd been pulled out of. Jared couldn't quite say whose bunk it was. There were only four bunks and four of them on the bus, but he still had no idea. He wasn't even sure which bunk was his.

The thing came closer and..

“The fuck!” Shannon shouted as he was shoved sideways, landing on the floor of the bus with a thud. Jared put his arm up reflexively as the vaguely human hand curled into a claw scratched at him. Fingernails closer to talons left red lines on his forearm.

“You okay?” Jared eyed Shannon worriedly.

“Yeah—the fuck—that--Jared!”

“It's getting stronger. I need coffee. I'm half asleep. I need coffee. Need to see Matt's okay.”

Shannon shakily got to his feet. “How the fuck are we finishing this tour if—”

“Pissed. Harder time getting at me. With you at the house and the shit that we've come up with to help keep it back.”

“I repeat how the fuck do you think we're--”

Jared ignored his brother. “Coffee. I need. Fucking. coffee.”

“Yeah,” Shannon started steering him off the bus.

~*~


The plus of his three shadows for the day, were the guys and Brian were put off. Frank was hovering, eyeballing to flat out glaring, underfoot and annoying as all hell. But he kept his mouth shut with the kids.

His presence also had Oksana over the moon, because Pepper was with him. Maybe they'd be able to get her a pup after the tour. Or not a pup, maybe one just a bit older—and housebroken. And not so fuckin' hyper as Pepper who was so wound up she was just fucking spazzing and loving every second of Oksana's attention.

Mike was helpful in keeping one eye on Oksana and one hand clamped tight around Clay's wrist.

Both Matt and Xander had been slightly horrified when they realized that Clay had spent the day before sitting in the driver's seat of the bus. No one had told him he could get off the bus, or anything Andrew and Tyson had both made him swear to mind Xander and Matt. Xander's response to that had been to pull out his phone and call Andrew, and rip his ass about “Igor-ing” poor Clay, there wasn't going to be any “Igor-ness” because that was of the bad. Seriously, Mikey back when he was drinking had made more sense three sheets to the wind sometimes.

Matt had gotten the drift of what Xander meant clear enough, but damn he could say that shit with a straight face, stone cold sober and dead serious in meaning it. Poor Clay hadn't had a fucking clue what Xander was saying though when he was informed he wasn't an Igory Butt Monkey and he didn't have to stay on the bus all day. Xander had been made to be the Butt Monkey too many times. He wasn't going to let Clay be one.

Thing was, Clay had no freaking clue of...anything. Basic skills yeah—read, write, drive, fix computers, speak Klingon (explained by Andrew being one of his creators)—but like having a clue of how to act like a person? Or any social ability whatsoever? Forget it. Then again Andrew and Tyson made him, it wasn't like either one of them were all that socially adept. A two year old was probably more able to get by wandering alone. The two year old would at least have the sense to stop dead and start screaming bloody murder for mom when it realized it was lost. Clay was just...helpless despite having a crammed head full of useless facts and some actually useful basic skills.

Clay needed kept on a leash, or Mike holding onto him, for his own safety as much as Pepper. Hell, Pepper probably had a better clue of how to navigate the world and she had four legs and a tail wagging so fast at the moment it almost looked like her back half was going into a freaking seizure.

Frank was amused by Pepper and Oksana though.

Matt grinned and took the offered pack of cigarettes from Frank helping himself to one and lighting it. Damn. Yeah. They were going to have to get the kids a dog.

Oksana grabbed Clay's hand. “Pet.”

Clay blinked at her confused.

Mike and Oksana got Clay down on his knees on the ground and showed him how to pet Pepper.

“Is he all there?” Frank whispered.

Matt glared.

“You know what I mean.”

“He's a freaking genius. He's just—never been out much,” Matt said defensively. That was the truth, or almost. Clay had never been 'out' other than wandering around Hellfire which really didn't count for much and he was only a week or so old. Seven adult humans, counting himself in that population, eight little slayers under the age of twelve that were still there plus Mike and Oksana for kids. And you couldn't forget Spike, Clem, Clem's three cousins and sister, Vlad and a bunch of ghosts. Yeah, not really going to pick up a clue how to function in the world from the residents of Hellfire. At least not function normally.

Frank kept looking at Clay oddly.

“What?”

“He looks familiar somehow...”

“Kid that works at Bri's office. Tyson? He's related to Clay somehow.” Matt shrugged. Clay was slender and about all of five-seven with sandy hair a few shades lighter than Andrew's with hazel eyes. He looked, well, he looked quite a lot like a perfect blending of Andrew and Tyson. It was kinda freaky actually just how perfect of a blending of Andrew and Tyson Clay was in appearance. Made sense Matt supposed, but still it was kind of freaky. At least the two geeks didn't...hell, make a golem that looked like Kelly LeBrock or something. Oh fuck he needed sleep. Xander's brand of insanity was contagious.

Maybe it was just that you had to be kind of nuts to manage dealing with weird shit constantly or you'd end up in a padded room.

“You're havin' a kid?” Frank with his usual tact—absolutely none—demanded.

“I said that. More than once,” Fucking hell he was not up for the Iero Inquisition. “Oh shit.” He groaned and gave Frank a glare as he fished for the phone in his pocket. “What'd ya do curse me by bringing it up? Hey, Rose.”

Frank was just gaping. Matt wasn't far from it himself. Rose didn't think a whole lot of technology, Demons made more sense as far as she was concerned. Andrew being the most enthusiastic about tech type stuff really didn't go a long way in convincing her that it wasn't as bad as she thought. He was shocked as hell that she actually touched the phone.

”This durn thing gives me the willies!”

“I know, something wrong?” He couldn't imagine things were exactly right since Rose had touched the phone.

”I'M STARVING!” she wailed.

“Well I—Do you fuckin' mind, Frank!” Matt growled Frank was leaning and not even attempting to look like he wasn't hanging on every word.

Oksana looked up all big eyed and half frightened. Mike gave Frank a look—

“DO NOT KILL FRANK, MIKE!” Matt snapped.

Clay sat there blankly confused and—oh Fuck! He squeezed his eyes tight against the assualt of colors and images superimposed over the world as whatever the hell it was snapped loose again. It...The FUCK? Clay was blank. Blank Blank. An echo of something faint, maybe Tyson and Andrew's magic? The 'magic' soaked into the dirt in Andrew's backyard since Hellfire had—something there. But Clay himself was...blank.

The kids, fuck. Mike was so twisted and carved up it was enough to make him queasy and Oksana had a big ball of ugly all tied up in barbed wire and chains so deep that hell only knew if she knew it existed or remembered what it was but it was there and fucking strong. He forced his eyes shut and tried to will the world to stop spinning with the force of the whatever the hell superimposed over reality.

“MATT!” Mike snarled.

“What are you on, Cortez?” Frank demanded with a hiss, a hand grabbed his arm. Hell, maybe he was the one wobbling not the world. Frank's presence was kind of like a freaking giant pitbull, playful enough and friendly, but territorial as hell and capable of going from friendly to trying to rip a throat out in a blink with the right provocation.

”Matteo? Que--” He lost all thread of what Rose was saying after that. She could have been speaking ancient Greek or Demon from the NoShrimp Universe for all the more he was able to understand.

“Rose, it's Matthew, and I don't speak fuckall for Spanish,” he muttered into the phone.

Aw shit, she was bawling. And the world was still spinning.

“Need Xan?” Oksana asked waveringly.

“Mike, settle down. Please, kiddo, settle down.” Matt murmured.

“Need Xan,” Oksana said, this time definitely not a question and just as stubborn as could be.

“NO! Mike, you aren't taking off on your own when you're ready to kill someone. Oksana and Clay sure as fuck aren't going off on their own either. I'm okay. Just gimme a second.” Matt managed eyes tightly shut and trying to force everything to stop wobbling and push the feel of shit down to where he wasn't going to be staggering around like a drunk all day.

“No Rose, honey, no, not mad you called. Don't don't cry, damn it. Rose—” Matt sighed into the phone as the words sobbed out on the other end of the phone started to register over the press of everything.

“You're fucking wasted aren't you?” Frank demanded.

“No, I'm not. Wish I was, could write this off then.” Matt muttered. All the colors and weird weaving bits of light and everything else he was seeing, feeling. Oh fuck yeah, being able to write them off as a drunk hallucination would be goddamned wonderful.

“I'm calling Xander!” Mike growled.

Rose was demanding what was wrong in his ear and sobbing more he wasn't answering. Like he could answer with Frank standing there. Granted Frank was half keeping him from weaving, at least enough he hadn't landed on his face yet but yeah, telling Rose what the hell was going on with Frank standing half on top of him wasn't happening.

“Rose,” he tried and nearly went to his knees at the force of the presence nearing. “FUCK, COYOTE TURN IT DOWN!”

Frank was getting sick-scared on top of the furious and worried and it was making Matt's stomach turn even worse.

“No, Rose hon, I'm okay. I'm okay.” he answered the nearing-hysterical demands in his ear.

“NO TRUE!” Oksana shouted.

Rose's hysterics sunk in a bit. “Jake Coyote, he's on the crew, rode with us last night on our bus,” he managed.

“Little cousin, you're going to do yourself permanent harm if you do not—”

“CAN IT!” Matt snarled.

Coyote did, catching sight of Frank holding onto Matt's arm with a death grip. Coyote grabbed Matt's other arm, glaring down past Matt at Frank.

“Guys, in the middle of a fuckin' dogfight b'tween a coyote and pitbull ain't my idea of fun.” Matt grumbled.

”Well Coyote makes sense if it's the Trickster you got there but Pitbull?” Rose asked, distracted into a second of rational.

“Frank, Rose, one of the guys in the band I work for...” Matt managed. Trickster? The world was too fucking loud, sharp and bright for him to even try to ask, not to mention Frank.

”Frank—”

“Not a fucking clue.” Matt grated out and hoped she caught not a clue of what he meant.

That finally calmed her a bit realizing he couldn't answer half of what she'd been sobbing about because Frank was there. Didn't really help much for long because she set off crying she'd was being nothing but a bother. Then abruptly switched to raging pissed about hormones and Doc Bidlow not letting her feed and the hunger making the hormones that much out of control. Yeah, he was damn glad he was no where near Hellfire at the moment. Maybe that was asshole but he was really glad he was no where near Hellfire, he'd rather he wasn't where he was at just now too but it was better than in Hellfire.

“Rose, honey, can I call you back after while, now's kinda a sucky time—” Matt tried to make his voice sound somewhat normal.

She hung up wailing about—Matt wasn't quite sure what the hell it was. He was sure the phone call to Rose later was going to be a fucking headache and he was going to be apologizing and begging though he wasn't exactly for sure what. Rose's call reminded him he hadn't asked Coyote about whatever the hell prophecies or problems might be with a “Serpent's Daughter” and the world could stop fucking being so sharp and just vibrating anytime now. At least turn down to a point that he dared to open his eyes.

“Xander will be here soon,” Mike announced, making the words sound like a particularly violent death threat.

Yeah, that was real helpful in keeping Frank from flying off the handle.

“Oh that fucking asshole has some nerve—”

Matt opened his eyes, he probably shouldn't have. He really shouldn't have. Jared. Jared, Shannon,Tomo, Tim and some slightly freaked out security looking type Matt didn't recognize following along.

That wasn't all that was following along, or—

Matt dropped to his knees shaking, his arm nearly dislocated by Coyote's grip but that probably saved his knees a bit from the pavement. The coffee and what little food he'd managed to choke down for breakfast came back up. One of the other things came rushing at him, so cold it burned, slimy evil—

What little control he'd managed to get back shattered, Coyote was—fucking blinding and the last thought Matt had was that whatever the hell Coyote was, he was a lot more than what Matt had seen so far and he could at least feel the things following Jared. Everything mercifully faded away into blackness.


~*~


“Oh Goddess!” Xander groaned and picked up his pace. He nearly choked as Devon tightened the hold around his neck. “Dev, down.”

Devon moaned.

Xander had been set babysitting him because he was unconsciously feeding and driving everyone nuts.

Devon obediently let go though with a whine. “Oh fuck, fuck what--”

“I'm pretty sure I know just shit.”

Devon slid down to sit crosslegged on the ground.

The little obnoxious guy who owned the dog went ape shit over Devon and then Xander daring to put a hand on Matt. Xander ignored him. Jake had a hold of him, keeping him back from Matt.

“MIKE!” Oksana cried.

Xander spared a glance toward the kids. Mike was—facing off with five guys, well a big bodyguard type and four others. Oksana's eyes were wild, matching the coiled tension in Mike and then some. Slayer overdrive. Shit...

“Damn it, Jared,” one guy was trying to hold another back. The bodyguard kinda looked baffled and a bit amused at Mike. The two standing in back were, looking worried.

“Fucking let me go, Shannon.”

Xander didn't recognize him at first, hollow cheeked and gaunt, eyes hidden by sunglasses, he'd honestly seen better looking corpses. “What're the odds? Luck of the Zeppo strikes again.” Xander muttered but Jared combined with Shannon. Matt's Jared.

“It's okay. Mike back...” Xander called out and struggled to lift Matt in his arms and stand. “Jared, c'mon, he's okay. Help me get him back to the bus. Clay, can you take Dev?”

Devon whined.

“DEVON! BEHAVE!” Xander snapped with a sharp tilt of his head in Oksana's direction.

Devon got to his knees then his feet, staggering and shaking. He really looked like hell, pale and clammy and not much better than Jared.

“I'm coming too! That one—Are you suicidal?” Jake glared.

“Oh for hell's sake, Jake,” Xander rolled his eye.

Xander knew the second Jared recognized him. “It's okay, c'mon, told Shannon on the phone I'd take care of Matt. I have. C'mon. Let's get Matt to the bus.”

Mike and Oksana growled as Jared darted for Xander's side.

“He's gonna be okay,” Xander whispered and glanced back at the others.

“Shannon's—”

“Your brother yeah.”

“Tomo'n'Tim're band,” came out in a mumbled rush.

“'Kay, s'okay.”

“Your wife—“

“What?” Xander gaped.

“She wasn't happy when I called.”

“Not my wife. Never—Willow. It was Willow wasn't it?”

“Yeah--”

“Explains why your number was out of service or changed or whatever. Willow's doing. She—was—like my sister, best friend since kindergarten. She—just add to the list of shit coming out,” Xander said softly.

Devon started growling.

“You've been around Oz too long,” Xander snapped over his shoulder.

“Bitch better not be showing up here,” Devon growled.

“Devon, down.”

Clay managed to get Devon piggy-back style to carry him. Mike and Oksana were giving Jared death glares, and Matt was freaking heavy.

Oksana's shout in her native Slavic was about all the warning anyone had for the flying tire iron which she managed to dart forward and grab before it struck Matt.

“Oh yay.” Xander groaned. “This just gets better and better. Mike, Oksana, keep your eyes open. Oksana give the pup back to what's his butt.”


~
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