Who: FormerlyEvil!Patrick, George, Michael (not George Michael) and David What: Some assembly required When: After this Where: FormerlyEvil!Patrick's formerly evil squat! Warnings: Well David starts out in pieces so...you know, that. Also my bad jokes.
Patrick had helped Michael and George assemble all of the pieces of Saint David he had spread around and it had taken a very long time. As he did so, he tried very hard not to think about the fact that he had been the one to cut David up and spread him around in the first place, but it was hard to ignore that when he was staring at his own actions, or the results of them.
They had taken David's parts back to the apartment he had been squatting in. Patrick had excused himself to take a shower and only after making sure he couldn't escape from the bathroom had Michael allowed that. Patrick couldn't watch as Michael put David back together though maybe he should have been made to. Instead he stripped his clothes off and stood under a steady stream of cold water, shivering from horror and not the water's temperature.
When he was finished, he was clean of the dirt from retrieving David but he would never be clean from having killed him in the first place. He pulled on the clean clothes he had managed to find lying around, though the style of them was much more him without a soul than him with a soul and he didn't like that. He emerged into the living room as Michael placed poor David's head back on his neck.
Michael turned to Patrick, his expression livid. "You broke his wrists and ankles?" he said, his tone a low growl.
Patrick hid his eyes, but he sniffed and nodded. "It wasn't me," he whispered, but deep down inside, he could feel that part of him. That sadistic and angry part that he kept in check with morality and guilt. It terrified him to know how very little it would take to release that horrible person again. How very little there was that separated him from being a monster.
Patrick went to stand near George but he didn't dare touch him. Not when George could see everything Patrick had done to poor David, spelled out in black and blue in front of his very eyes. The burns, the bruises, the broken bones...and it had all been just a week ago.
It seemed like forever.
There was only His Light.
~tha-thump~
A pulse ran outwards, sending a lattice of red lightning through him. It hurt, a lot, and it drew him from the Light and into dark. The pulse ran again, cracking through him, knitting him back together as the blood in his veins stirred.
He felt like he was made of stone, lying on his back at the bottom of a well, and the water was slowly draining away. Slowly sound and light grew, vague and painful at first, then growing in intensity as his face broke through and he opened his eyes.
He arched back, a ragged gasp escaping him as his lungs squeezed back to life. It took him a half minute to remember how to breathe, finding a rhythm again. His vision and hearing sharpened as oxygen rushed to his brain. He looked around, trying to take in what had just happened. His body was remade and healed, not so much as a scab remaining of his torture.
He was Saint David, and he was alive again.
Patrick stared at David as his little brother breathed life back into his lungs. His body healed before their eyes and Patrick felt both relieved and horrified. Relieved his brother was okay, horrified that now he would have to face David. And while he remembered David croaking out forgiveness as the life was choked out of him, Patrick didn't expect that to mean much now.
Patrick hovered back away from David as Michael took a step towards him. "Saint David," Michael said gently. "How are you feeling? Would you like some water?"
Was that all? Was that seriously it? Just...welcome back from the dead, would you like some water? Patrick wrapped his arms around himself and he chewed on his lip while he stared down at the floor.
Michael glanced at Patrick and back to David. "Patrick has had his soul returned to him. He helped us put you back together."
It took David a moment to register the words spoken to him.
"Water," he croaked, his voice dry and dusty from disuse. He was ragingly hungry and thirsty all of a sudden, as his body remembered how to live. His gaze went from tired, earnest Michael, to George with a face like a wet weekend, to...
Patrick. He flinched away out of dazed instinct, remembering the pain. But as he looked down at his naked form, he felt confused. He was whole. Did that mean he'd dreamed everything that had happened? But no, because Michael had said put you back together. What did that mean? He had no idea how long he had been in His hands, but he felt very cold.
"I'll get you some water," Michael said calmly and he moved to the kitchen.
"Get him something from the fridge too," Patrick finally spoke up. "He was uhm...pretty hungry- It had been a few days since he'd eaten by the time he...I-" Patrick shook his head as Michael just headed to the kitchen in silence. He was sure everyone knew exactly what he meant by that.
"Dewi," Patrick whispered. He moved to fetch one of the blankets he had and he handed it over to his brother. It felt ridiculous to apologise, but he did anyway. "Dewi, I'm sorry..."
"How do you feel?" George asked, hovering near both his brothers just in case...well, just in case. Death sometimes had a way of changing peoples' attitudes towards each other. Funny, that.
"Can you move all your limbs?"
David nodded, too weak at the moment to speak, but his gaze kept flicking warily from one to the other. He remembered now, what had happened. He remembered what Patrick did to him. What he didn't know now was if he'd been brought back as a sick joke, so they could have their fun with him all over again. Surely the Lord wouldn't have let him go if that was going to happen?
But then, Patrick had addressed him as Dewi, so perhaps not... Still, it didn't hurt to be cautious.
When Michael returned with a glass of water, Patrick felt the absolute need to be the one who gave it to David. He had spent several days taunting his little brother with water and somehow, he felt that if he gave David some now, it would help.
"I'll do it!" Patrick said, taking the water from Michael's hands. "Go get him something to eat."
Michael looked displeased about being bossed around by a formerly fallen saint, but he did as Patrick suggested.
Patrick brought the water to David's side. "Do you want me to hold it for you, Dewi? Or can you do it?"
David looked at Patrick distrustingly, unsure what the correct response should be. If he put his hand out, would Patrick just laugh in his face? Slowly he held his hand out, his hand shaking a little as he took the cup, ready at any moment to back off if things looked to be turning dangerous.
"It's okay," Patrick soothed him, even though he felt wretched that he even had to. "It's alright, I'm not going to take it away." Patrick looked over at George, his expression beyond ashamed. This is what he had done to their brother. He had terrorised him and tortured him and poor David was afraid of Patrick and who could blame him.
"I won't ever hurt you again," Patrick said to both of them. "I promise."
Once he realised he could have the water, David gulped it down eagerly, so much so that he nearly choked on it. Still, once he was done, he took a deep breath and cleared his throat.
"Patrick, are you... you?" he asked, still wary. His watchful eyes turned to Michael and George, looking for confirmation, for proof.
"I went down to Hell and got his soul back," George explained, leaning his hip against the table and watching David drink the water. "It's him."
Finally, he couldn't resist anymore and pulled David into a tight hug, half-yanking him off the table. "I'm so sorry I didn't bring you back sooner, Dewi," George murmured.
Patrick hovered while David and George hugged. He didn't want to get in the way of that, but he was glad to see it. "George saved me. I'm so sorry, Dewi."
Michael returned from the kitchen looking annoyed. He stood beside Patrick, his hands full of anything David could eat. "I have a can of cold beans, or some carrots," Michael said flatly. It was little surprise that Patrick hadn't really kept his fridge stocked with things David would eat.
David flailed slightly at being hugged, but relaxed after a moment and patted George's back. "You went to Hell?" he asked, a little gobsmacked. His mind was still kind of reeling at being alive again, and catching up with all of this information. "And Agatha? Gabriel?"
George shook his head. "They're still...I could only get Patrick's soul." He finally let go, since Dewi probably needed to breathe, but he stayed close. "And Patrick could tell us where you were, so..."