(OOC: A little music for mood.)

He could feel hands press his neck, bind his arms, leave him paralyzed with fear but he couldn't see much of anything. There was no up or down, no indication of where this hell was. The face above him blurred and glitched, fragments of a multitude bleeding together, fuming black smoke. They spoke in jolts and starts, hands squeezing and loosening in turn. The violence and kindness warped until there was no difference, confusing his already suffering brain.


"Aͣ̏ͦ̓́̏͑ ̌͐̚lͥ̋̐iẗ̎̐̓̒͒̄t͆̑̄l̓̒͑̽ͪ͊̌e̅̒ͫ̒̑ͪ ͩͤ̾ͬ̐̾m̆o̊ͦͪ̑̀ͭ͌n̾ͥ̎ͯ̐̏s͊̍̆ͭ͗̂t͊̋eͫͦ͒r͗ͯ ͥ̌l̆̈͗̈ͧ̉ì͗ke yo͑̌ͭͬ͗͐u͒̏ͬ dͩ̔́̍o͒̅̎͑͆ͦės̆n’̆̈́̑ͧ̒̌t́ͨ ͤ̒̾̑ͭd͆̽̃͑̇e̿̋sė͛͐̏r͐ͨͫ́͑v̈́͑̓eͣ̓̅d͒ͥ ̉ͩtͩͭ̎ͫ̔ͯ̈o ̑͊̾͑̀ͥͣlͦ̑ͩ̄̌̅ȉ̎vͥ͋̅ͯͧ́ȅ̈́̄ͫ,ͭ͗̽ͥ͋ͥ͊ ̈́ͩ͐^{aͫ̔sĺ͒̄}_{kͩ͆ͧdͮ̉jͮͨ̄̽̀}fͫͯ̑͆̅̎^{;ͭa̾ͣͯͩ̎̅̑} w̓ͬ̋ͥ͒ͥͤh̃̒̀ÿ̈́͑̑ͨ̽ ́̐ͬ̋̎͑̚dͤ̓o͋̔̋̓ͭ̄n'ͯ̿t͆̎̔̋́ ̉a͋͐̀̌͑ͭlͤ̀͊̂ͥ̌lͮͣ̊̅ͨ ̍̍̄ͤoͧ͗̓fͬ̉ͯ ͂̏̈́y̓̓̅͂o̅͒ͧuͦ͒̍ ͆d̽ͯôͧ̆̚ ͧ̃̋ͫ́̈yoͯ̃̿uͩ͗͊̎̀̏̓r͊͋̔̅̏sͫ̐̿ͣ͌e̓lv͗́̽̈͛e̐̀ͨs̎ͦ͆̅͒ ̊a̿̿̒̄ͣn̉ͩ̈́̎ͪͪd

tͥͫ̔ͨ͌̆h͂ͭͬ͛e͊ͧ ͮͭͭͯ͛̾ẇ̓̑̃͗oͯr̂̆l̅ͭ͛̿d̆̏̇́̽ ̐ͣͩ̑ͥ͑ͯa͐͛̎͌́ ̔ͪ̽͛f͑ͯȃ́̆ͮ̅̚v̏̾͂̎ͦ̿o͋̏̏r͊̈ ͩ͛̾̌̐a̐̓ͧͬ̔̆nͣ̅d ̿͛kͩ͐̀̈ī̍͑ͧͩ͐lͮl͗̈́͆̄̄ͣ ̈̓͗̋͌y̌̾o̽u͌̐́̽̊͛rͪͦͬ̔̈́sͣͮeĺ̅͛͊̂ͯͩv̄ͨͣ̔ͭ̚e̊ͮsͭ͋̐ͣ͊! _{aͪͩ͌ͥ̚lͪͥ̐͂́ͯs̈}^k̀͌̄̋f_{d́͒ͣ̎ͨj̊̓̾̅a͆};̀͐̈́̍l̉́̋͆ͪ̏ ͑́Bͧ͆̉̈ͫeͥͦf͋ͬ̅ͫ͐ͫö́̄̽ͣͩ͆rͬͯ̔̔e̎ͪ͑͒ͤ̎̓ ̒tͧͨ̚hey͐ͭ̎̾ͧ̈́̐ ́ͨ̆̔fiͫgu͑ͮr̀͂͂̉͊̎ēͦ̓̉̉dͭ́̑̃̚ ̇ͤ͆̀̂o͆͂ủt̑́ͨ ͯ̑wh̿ͯa͊ẗ́͛͂ͭ̂ ͯ͊̊̿y̔̂ó͌̐u͊͋ ̎̊ẁͪeͤͦͯ̏͋r̽e̅̑?̆ ͪ̆ͩͮ̅Ë͐ͩͫv́͐̎͗̅̓̈er͐̆ͣ̊ͧ͛ ͐ͮ̃̄͛̚guͭ̊̔t̓̈̍̓ͭtė̆ͤͮ͂d͂̏̐ ̄̓̾̇͌a̽͆͒̓

f̋̐ͤ̒̈ȉͣͥ͆̐ͭ̇sh?͒͌̍ ̽̇̿͗̚G̎͒̔͆otͧ ̒ͮt̉̚o͛ ̈̑s͆̈́̿̋lͧ̂͑ͨi̐̓͑ͬ̇d̓e̽̒̚ ̒̄ͦ̌̓ͬ̂tͣ̃̈ͤ̉ͩh̆ͥͮ̏ě͗̿́̂ ̂̒blͣ͌̒a͆̊ͬ̄̔̚ď͛͐ͫͥͣeͣͥ̏̓ i͊nͣ̾ͦtͮͯ̃ͩo ̾ͭ͗̚t͂̒̈h̓ͪͤ̈e̿́͒ ̑̎ͦ̃̇̍ǧ̅ͪͫu̓̎ͦt̄ͪͪ,̓̚ a͊͋̉nd̎ͤ̆ͨͮ͆̽ ͦp̔̓̄̚u̐l͒lͭ̉̉̋͗͌̔ ͋̀uuu̽͊ͭ͋̿uͩuͫͣ̽͛̿̏ṕ͐̚.ͯ̐̎ͧ̉̾"

It spat and sputtered, fingers crushing and caressing him, yet he couldn't struggle, he was frozen to the spot, helpless. He didn't want this, he didn't want this, why couldn't he move?! He tried calling out to someone, anyone who would help him. But no sound left his mouth, just hopeless choking noises. What was he doing here? He couldn't remember, he couldn't remember how he got here, how this man came to be crushing him and...touching him.


"A͂le͊̉xͦ̓̔ͭ̇ ͆ͩ̆̊t̆̉̆͂h͒̑ͫe͌̐̓̔̒͆ m͒̄̂̚ur̂͆͗̚̚d̽ͯ̏̓e̐̾̍re̋̓̑͒̈̃ͮrͪ͗̓ͮ̊ ͥͭ̏ͯ̅̂^{a̎̃s̾͋ĺ̏̄}_{ǩͯ͐̀̚fͭ̅ͭ̓ͧͦjͩ͐̅͗̚} ̄̍ͮ͑͗̂t̑̉hͥ̓̂aͩ͗tͦ̐̽ͣ̿ͬ̅ ̉͗ȉͤͨͯs̊͒ wͨ͊h̆̅aͫ͌ͬ̉̚t̍͒̓̍̅̀ͫ ̈́͛̋ͯ͐ͤ͌I͊'̈͂ͯͧ̐̋m̒̌ͫ ̈́gȯ̓iͣ̆̎͛͂̉nͩ́̽ͤg̅ͬ̏ͮ ̆t͌ͫoͦ̈ͬ͗̿͂ ͒ͯ̾̒ͯ̍d̅̊ͫ̏͛ȏͪͣ̓̋̋̃ ̃̋̍ͫ̋t͊̽o̿̈́ yͧ̊ͥ͑͌o͋̾̎ͪ́ȕͣ̍̆.̃͆ ^{as̑ͮ̑̔͂͗d}fͬ͛̈́͂̓̾_{ȃ͋͐͋ͨ̾s̃͐̈̌̈ͮ̋} ̆̈ͯ̽͒A̍̐ͥͦ lͪiͪ̎̍̉t͂̓̂̿̍̋t̓͌ͨle̊̿̿̆̄̚ f̋̌͑̃r̔̋̄̿ẽ̓̃͆̅ā̇͋̔͒̓k ̔̎͊̈͑liͩ̈k͐̍ͮ͌͌e

y͋̔̅ͪͯo̓ͧͨͫ̅̆̔ű̾͐ ̏ͥ͑ͦ̎ͫn͂̓ͬͨ̾͐eͬͩͮ̾͆̐ȇ̍ͧ̋̒ͥdͤͥ̔̈̄͂s̈̊ ͆to̒ͦ ͥ̈́̇kͮ̏͊ͪn̆o̍͗̿͆̍w ͑ͪ͆͑ͣiͥtͩ́ͣ’̾ͫ͐ͮs͆̈̉ ̋ͥ̽ͦ̉̾ͥpͬ͆͗̏l̽aͭͮ̔c̈́e͐̿,̃ͪ̈́͒̏ͮͪ ͧ͒̓̿̂n̑ͨͥ̌͋̑̓ēͭͨeͯ̍̆̌̀̂̄d̑ͪs ̄͋tͤ̃͌͆̎ͯ̚oͬͪ̀ ̓̇̚kn̽o̔wͧ̃̀͂ ͐it ̊͋͌͋̌̔̏d͋̄o̾̉̆͊̋ͤ̎ě͛ͬ̆͒sͨͪn’̍̽͐ͪt́ͬ͗ͬͪͬ͆ ̓͌gͯé̔͛ͫt̀̎̑ ͣ͊̚ch̔͌oͫͤiͣ̆̔̃̐c̀̏́ͪͬ̇̍es̋̌͊̏.̂̾̉͐ ͂͐͂̆ͩ̔_{as̑ͮ̑̔͂͗d}^{fͬ͛̈́͂̓̾ȃ͋͐͋ͨ̾}s̃͐̈̌̈ͮ̋ ̑͂G̏̔o͛iͨͧ̈̀nͬ͋g̋̾͗̄ ͣ͛ͨ̆toͤ̍͊ͦ ͌pͦä́͂ͦ̾̄̾͑y͊ͯ̎̄̾̐-̑̉̋^{ä̀̽̇dͮl̎̏͛̀}fͮ̚̚_{kͩ̉ͭ͋̃j̉}^{a͋̿ͩsͭ͋ͦ̋ͨͫ̽} ̾Kn͑̒ͤo̾w ͭͥͩ͊̔̆a̓ͣ̓̐ͤ̀ͪ

f̓̑ͪͣͫe̋͆w͒͑̔ ̑̉ͯ̆̋̄ͬf͋̄ͧ͂ͧo͊͊̈́lkͯ͛ͧsͬ̃̄̆ ͌͛̌̐ͤwh̎̐̈́̀̇͒͆o̐͋ ͧ͊̃͗ͮ͑ͨwͮͤ̏ȏuld́͋͒ ͂̃̏på̏͐̐̓̈́̑yͪͮ̃͐ ͧͯ̄͆gͬͮ̈ͣ͌̍öͪ̉̉͛̈́oͭ̊̏ͣͥ̑̓d̃ ̄̌mͩ̀͐̾̔ͦͫo̽̔̂̈ͩnͫ̾̀̅̔ͪ̚ēy f̽̊̔̆ͤͬo͑̈́̓̅ͥr ͣ̋aͣͭ̈́ ͛͗s͐̄͂p̉́ͭ̚ecͧͪi̋̊me̐n̐ͨ͆̆̑ͮ̅ ͭͤ̇̆l͆̿̓̃̚ik̾ͥͩé̂͑ ͊ͬ͋ͩ̆̈y͐͑ͤ̐̆ou,̓̉̿̎̋̓ ͦ̑̋̅ͯͯo͐ͬͫr̃̾ ̄ͣ̄̀̌a̒̈́͂̚tͥͨ̋͛͆̓̇ ͪͪͮͣ̓͌͊lͭ̏͐̆̈́͊̓e̅ͥͬa̍st͋́ ͛mak̔͌͐̃̄̄͗e͗̈́͛̏̏ ͐̂ͩͪ̎g̈́ͭ̑ͭͪo̊̓ͦo͗dͧͩ͋̓ ̌̌̽ͦ̆ͩ̚u͐ͯ̌͛̽s͊̿͆̆ë́ ͛̊ǒ̏̊̊f̿ͮ̔ͤ͊ͬ̐ ͊͌̔ͯ̚y͊ͭͥ̐̓o͆̉ͪͣ̾̓̅u͗̈́r͆͒̅

bͩ̉̓ỏ͗͛͑ͯd̽̎y,ͧ̐̾ͪ̂̎̅ ̇HA͊̓̓̇̐̎̑,͗͌͋̌ͪ̈́ ŷo̽ͭ̏ͩü̇̇̿ͧͥ'͊̌r͐͆ͣe̿̒̈̈́͐̿ ̽̅́p͒̒ͤ͑ŕ͐̾͑ͭ͛͂e͐ͣͪt͂ͨt̒̂y͆̏̉̈̒̐ͯ ̐͋̓̑͊ͧ̽e͂̏͂̂͌̓͐n͒ͪ̑̽ô̒̏ͮͣͣ̍uͬ̓͐̃͗g͐ͬͦȟ͊ͯ ̀͊͌͂̋̈ͤfͭ͊̽ͧ̃o͆͛͐̃͊̚rͦͬ iͪ̅ͨ͋t.ͫ̔ͧ̀̉̉"

The thing, the man laughed, mouth showing canine teeth in a demon like grin. It, he, leaned close, breath rancid with the taste of rot and blood. His tongue slid out, snake the color of venom and alive, drawing closer. The hands on his neck crushing his windpipe, forcing him to gasp. He could feel the flicking tongue of the snake against his teeth and-

Alex awoke with a start, gasping and confused he threw himself out of bed, crawling over to a corner of the room to huddle until room made sense to him again. He covered his mouth to silence the sobbing and wait for the panic to pass. Looking at Jiri's bed he was relieved to see the other boy was sound asleep, or more likely out of his body and playing in someone else's. It didn't ease his fear or the nausea bubbling in his gut. Jiri being in his head most nights had become a comfort for him, the other boy was the only one who truly had any idea of the things going on in his head.

Even if he kept the other boy sequestered to particular parts of his brain, the surface level stuff that was safe to share.

Tonight however, he had been on his own and probably has had his worst nightmare yet. He had, had a few nightmares in the past few weeks, each one closer and closer together like a slow slop on a hell ride. Most of it he couldn't make heads or tails of and he wasn't sure if he could really tell anybody about it. Not without getting into territory he'd rather not think about.

"Know a few folks who would pay good money for a specimen like you, or at least make good use of your body, heh, you're pretty enough for it."

He shook the memory from his head, stuffing it as far down as he could before standing. He hadn't done it in a long time, not since he escaped the desert and recovered, mostly, from the events that took place there. But right now, the hobo remedy of drown it in alcohol seemed reasonable. Sam did it, so why couldn't he.

Speaking of father dear, the man was out tonight as far as he knew, so his personal stash was unguarded. Well aside from the cat and the dog, but they didn't mind him too much. He was surprised the man had left the door unlocked or that there were no adults patrolling the hallways. Alex wasn't going to complain though, just made things a ton easier for him to get in and grab a few of the brown bottles from the fridge. Nothing fancy, just enough to calm him, numb out all the emotions he didn't want to face right now.

It was late he was tired and for the first time he could think of he had decided that he’d do more good sleeping in his own bed. Sure it might have been across the hall from Juliette but that had nothing to do with the fact that a bed sounded better than his chair, his floor, his desk. No the bed made the most sense at least his back didn’t hurt when he woke up in it.

Sam entered the main entrance with a flask in hand and walked the hallways to see if anything was out of order in the mansion as he headed to his room. Sam passed a kid who was floating in the air shaped like a human balloon. The kid was fast a sleep so Sam didn’t bother to wake him. Nope, nothing out of the ordinary. The only thing he thought was odd was that when he passed Juliette’s door he spotted his was open. Pushing a slight breeze of cold he slowed down grabbing another pull from his flask.

The body frame was smaller when it came into view. Sam smirked when he thought that the decoy beers would never come in handy. The beers had been a running joke he had with Luke ever since he had the guy about how he and Mirror first met. To his surprise the blind man’s gift paid off. Walking into the room he heard a loud ‘woof’ as Bruno got up to greet Sam.

The air around Alex got colder and the ice mancer frowned when he saw the kid. Maybe he wasn’t on his A game but his B game could tell something was up. ”You know you aren’t gonna find any problem solvers in those.” It was one of the more hypocritical things Sam had said in a while but he was a dad he was allowed to be. ”Up kinda late aren’t you?” Sam asked knowing there was a reason.

Alex hadn't realized the room was growing colder until it was entirely too late to get away.

"You know you aren’t gonna find any problem solvers in those."

He spun around to face the man, two beer bottles in his hands. He was well aware of alcohols properties, the depressant, just like every other drug, worked based on your weight. The more you weighed in comparison to your height the more you needed for it to take affect. Being that he was still a rather lean kid it was likely that two bottles would be enough to affect him. Plus he didn't have the resistance Sam probably built up, hypocrite.

"Up kinda late aren’t you?"

He averted his gaze downward and shrugged, "Yeah, couldn't sleep." He wasn't about to mention the nightmares or how weird they made him feel or who they were related to. Good god, he didn't want the leader of the fucking X-Men, his father to get anywhere close to that. He was going to bury these thought and feelings so deep that they'd disappear back into the void from whence they came.

Still one thing was confusing him, "So...are you gonna get mad or punish me or whatever parents do?" He wasn't entirely sure, he was ten the last time he had proper 'parents' and the most they'd do was ground him for a few days. Not that he had ever gotten too out of hand for them more than a few times for it to be an issue.

”A lot of that going around it seems.” Sam said knowing that he wouldn’t be able to sleep now that Alex was conducting a room raid. Looking over to Bruno who was curling back up in the corner as Sam and Alex communicated. Some guard dog. Rolling his eye he looked back to the kid and took a sip of his flask and then sighed.

When Alex asked if he was going to be punished Sam just shrugged. ”Not sure now is the time you need to be punished.” Sam asked as he walked over and grabbed the chair to his desk and pulled it out for the kid as he went over to sit on the couch he had by the window of his room.
The door was shut now meaning they could talk and if Sam didn’t take the beer away from Alex anyone would know. At least not yet. Someone would find out eventually and he would be yelled at yet again for some kids stealing his beer even if the kid was breaking and entering and then stealing something of his.

”Think you’d get more accomplished if we talked.” Sam sighed and then reached in his couch and pulled a bottle of scotch. A hiding place where no one seemed to look. Meaning he’d have to find a knew spot later. Forming a glass of ice on the table with a small beam from his hand he filled the glass and took a sip. ”So maybe I’ll listen first and punish you later… You alright?” he asked picking up the glass and taking a sip.

Alex flopped down on the offered chair, slumping and not meeting Sam's eyes. He was too tired for a talk, too afraid to do it too, but knew his father wasn't about to let it slide. Adopted or no, Sam was responsible for him and any responsible parent would question why their child was stealing alcohol. Even if said child was practically an adult and able to handle himself. Had been handling himself for years now. Why had he wanted to be part of society, part of a family again? It was getting hard to remember.

At the very least it didn't seem like Sam was mad, wasn't going to punish him unless there was a good reason. Strange that an adult would consider the problem before jumping to action. But then again, this probably wasn't the first time Sam has had to deal with teens and alcohol, given the number of student that lived here over time. That idea was re-enforced when the older man pulled a bottle from the couch. Good god, he had to wonder how many hiding spots there were. "These are skunked aren't they?" He really didn't need to ask, checking the label showed the beers were missing their expiration marks. Just...brilliant.

With a sigh he set the beer down and sunk further into the seat. He kept his eyes on the window, the dark world outside. He didn't answer right away at the question of being alright, letting the silence hang for a second too long. "...Not really..."he wasn't going to be the one to get into details. He didn't even know how to broach the subject, one that he was certain he didn't want to broach anyway.

Sam smirked when the question was asked, ”Surprised you couldn’t tell. I try not to keep too much of my beers in there. I have some decoys, nonalcoholic, skunked or filled with water.” Sam shrugged, ”You aren’t the first kid to sneak in here and try and steal some beer. It has been happening for years now and I was tired of dealing with drunk kids in my room. Bruno is supposed to be handling all the kids but…” Sam pointed to the corner of his room to the now snoring dog who was fast asleep. ”So I had to get creative.”

”Yeah…” Sam set his glass down and then leaned back on the couch with a slight yawn. He was tired but he’d fight off the sleep for this. Alex was hurting it seemed. ”Can’t sleep and don’t want to talk about it…. You seem ‘em?” Sam asked taking a wild guess. ”The kids I mean.” he was talking about the people Alex had killed. It was one of the reasons Sam drank, them and his family who weren’t real but were a constant reminder of his failures.

”Just a guess… I see ‘em too sometimes.” Sam said a little softer as he picked up his glass. ”I’d offer you some scotch but… you got to handle those beers first.” Sam said knowing that would be punishment enough for some.

He glanced at Sam at the mention of 'them', Arthur Brown, the man he killed most recently. Sam didn't know, didn't have to know about anything else. Yet, who else did he have to turn to that could actually handle it. One of these days Jiri was going to dig too deep and...he didn't want to expose his friend to the raw truth like that, to all the mixed emotions he had in his head. Still...

"Yeah, something like that..."he murmured, trying to not think too hard about that awful dream. At the mention of drinking the beers in exchange for a proper drink, he shrugged his shoulders. "Make it one for each beer and I'll do it."he said, giving a half-hearted smirk as he picked up one of the bottles again. It wasn't a twist off, so it was either nonalcoholic or skunked. Skunked would be the worse but he could probably do it. He couldn't see a bottle opener, so without asking, he used the edge of the nearby table to pop the top off.

Without another word he chugged the drink, face pinching in disgust as the liquid touched his tongue. He slammed the empty bottle on the table and coughed, doing his best not to puke it back up. "Ugh, god, that was, fuck, yup that was skunked. If I get food poisoning, I'm blaming you. Please tell me I can have that scotch now."the things he did to not talk about his past. Though, maybe if he got drunk he'd spill his guts without all this thinking.

That'd be the healthy thing to do, wouldn't it? The better question was what Sam would think, would the man throw him away after, or worse throw him in jail?

”We’ll see.” Sam said to the kid drinking more, ”I’m a teacher and your adoptive father. This doesn’t leave the room, I could get into some trouble.” he said okay with Alex having some whiskey after the beer. It was nasty beer. Even if it was illegal Sam had gone through the same thing Alex was going through now, even if he was a few years younger when the faces started to appear.

”Not yet. You got at least one more.” Sam said sipping his drink. ”No alcohol goes to waste.” Sam said as he looked to his dresser and watched the kid pop the top on his furniture. The area around Alex got a little cold to let the kid know it wasn’t okay to do that. No words needed to be said. Unless the kid did it again. If he’d ask Sam would provide an opener.

”You weren’t here. So there is no use blaming me. You did this to yourself kid.” Sam said sipping his scotch with one arm on the couch behind him. ”Next time you ask me and if it’s just you and I I’d be willing to do it most likely.” he had to think about what he just said, ”Probably never here or in the city but we can discuss logistics then.” maybe some time away from the school would do him some good?

”You know our childhoods weren’t so different right?” Sam asked the kid knowing Alex had no idea. ”You might have heard that I used to hunt other mutants before, mutants and dangerous humans. I did…” he sipped his glass and added, ”I was five years old when I first killed someone.” he admitted without trying to dwell too much on it.

Alex shivered as the chill touched him and he got the message. Be gentle with the furniture, right...He picked up the next bottle, eyeing it's contents with suspicion. He really didn't want to drink it but here he was with one more bottle to go. He made a hand gesture for Sam to give him a bottle opener and waited patiently for one to be handed over so he could open the damn thing. Bottle opener in hand, he popped the cap and hesitated. Sam didn't exactly say he had to drink it, just not waste it, and beer was really just fermented barley and wheat.

So he took the smart route and used his powers, making a garter snake that coiled up in the bottle before slithering up and out onto his hand. Alex set the bottle down next to the other, "There, no beer wasted. Can I have that scotch now? I swear I won't tell anyone about getting alcohol from you." He could really use the drink, just something to numb things, take the edge off, make him forget. Honestly, of all the things either of them had done, a little guardian approved drinking was hardly anything worrying over.

"You know our childhoods weren’t so different right? You might have heard that I used to hunt other mutants before, mutants and dangerous humans. I did…I was five years old when I first killed someone."

Alex looked away, watching the thin snake flick it's tongue, tasting the alcoholic air. "...But our childhoods were very different. You didn't have a choice...I did, there are so many things I could have done better..."he murmured, trying to ignore the sensation of his throat tightening, the nausea in his stomach.


""Aͣ̏ͦ̓́̏͑ ̌͐̚lͥ̋̐iẗ̎̐̓̒͒̄t͆̑̄l̓̒͑̽ͪ͊̌e̅̒ͫ̒̑ͪ ͩͤ̾ͬ̐̾m̆o̊ͦͪ̑̀ͭ͌n̾ͥ̎ͯ̐̏s͊̍̆ͭ͗̂t͊̋eͫͦ͒r͗ͯ ͥ̌l̆̈͗̈ͧ̉ì͗ke yo͑̌ͭͬ͗͐u͒̏ͬ dͩ̔́̍o͒̅̎͑͆ͦės̆n’̆̈́̑ͧ̒̌t́ͨ ͤ̒̾̑ͭd͆̽̃͑̇e̿̋sė͛͐̏r͐ͨͫ́͑v̈́͑̓eͣ̓̅d͒ͥ ̉ͩtͩͭ̎ͫ̔ͯ̈o ̑͊̾͑̀ͥͣlͦ̑ͩ̄̌̅ȉ̎vͥ͋̅ͯͧ́ȅ̈́̄ͫ...""

He pressed hand to his temple, wanting to forget the dream, forget the faces and the voices and disgusting feelings it brought. He felt miserable and he just wanted it to be over. Why was this happening now? Things were supposed to be okay now. He was safe, he didn't have to worry about anything any more. Yet he couldn't shake the instinctual fear that this was the opposite of safe for him.

The bottle opener of ice formed and was thrown to Alex. Glad that he wasn’t attacking his furniture Sam then willed some ice to take the form of a glass and then he poured a small amount in the glass for the kid. Again it was illegal to give Alex, a minor alcohol but… Sam wasn’t really sure he’d be much good talking without it. Alex was his son now, not a bar buddy but he was still trying to figure that out. ”You chug this and your not gonna get anymore. It’s a twenty eight year old. I had to save a distillery in Scotland to get this.” Sam said as he took a sip.

”I always had a choice. Just like you you chose to survive just like me.” Sam said he sipped the glass again and then set it down watching the snake in the beer. He ignored it and stared back at the kid, ”So trouble sleeping, seeing people you killed and your trying to self medicate.” Sam leaned back further in the couch and gave a little chuckle. ”If I didn’t know any better I’d guess you are trying to live my life.” he shook his head and added, ”You don’t want to be like me kid.”

”Tomorrow I’m gonna have you sit down with Gemma and you’re gonna get a dialogue with her.” Sam said, it wasn’t a request the icemancer was telling him. ”I want you to have a normal life, one where you got a chance. Talking about that **** helps.” he said adding more hypocrisy into the conversation.

”Tell me about the dream.” Sam requested.

He took the glass of ice, grateful for the cold against his skin, and the sip of scotch burned a little before smoothing down his throat. He did want to down it in one go, get rid of the taste of sour beer on his tongue, but he wasn't about to waste the one glass he was getting out of this deal. He just really hoped this wasn't the last time Sam treated him like this. He wasn't an adult technically, no, but he was certain his mental years proceeded his physical.

"So trouble sleeping, seeing people you killed and your trying to self medicate. If I didn’t know any better I’d guess you are trying to live my life. You don’t want to be like me kid."

Alex chuckled and shrugged his shoulders, "I think it's a little too late for that bit. If I didn't self medicate here, it be somewhere else. Wouldn't be the first time." He took another sip washing down the memories, letting the depressant effects of the alcohol take hold. It was a slow process but it'd get there.

"Tomorrow I’m gonna have you sit down with Gemma and you’re gonna get a dialogue with her. I want you to have a normal life, one where you got a chance. Talking about that **** helps."

He cringed at that, he didn't want to talk about it with her. She already knew most of it, not the really heavy details but most of it. He didn't want to talk about it again, he didn't want to continue the conversation. They hadn't really talked about it since he had first arrived. The first time had been traumatic enough. He didn't want to have a repeat experience or multiple from the sound of it. Well, there might be one way out of it, "Do you talk about it? Does it help?" He already knew the answer, Sam was a hypocrite.

"Tell me about the dream."


""A̍̐ͥͦ lͪiͪ̎̍̉t͂̓̂̿̍̋t̓͌ͨle̊̿̿̆̄̚ f̋̌͑̃r̔̋̄̿ẽ̓̃͆̅ā̇͋̔͒̓k ̔̎͊̈͑liͩ̈k͐̍ͮ͌͌e y͋̔̅ͪͯo̓ͧͨͫ̅̆̔ű̾͐ ̏ͥ͑ͦ̎ͫn͂̓ͬͨ̾͐eͬͩͮ̾͆̐ȇ̍ͧ̋̒ͥdͤͥ̔̈̄͂s̈̊ ͆to̒ͦ ͥ̈́̇kͮ̏͊ͪn̆o̍͗̿͆̍w ͑ͪ͆͑ͣiͥtͩ́ͣ’̾ͫ͐ͮs͆̈̉ ̋ͥ̽ͦ̉̾ͥpͬ͆͗̏l̽aͭͮ̔c̈́e͐̿,̃ͪ̈́͒̏ͮͪ ͧ͒̓̿̂n̑ͨͥ̌͋̑̓ēͭͨeͯ̍̆̌̀̂̄d̑ͪs ̄͋tͤ̃͌͆̎ͯ̚oͬͪ̀ ̓̇̚kn̽o̔wͧ̃̀͂ ͐it ̊͋͌͋̌̔̏d͋̄o̾̉̆͊̋ͤ̎ě͛ͬ̆͒sͨͪn’̍̽͐ͪt́ͬ͗ͬͪͬ͆ ̓͌gͯé̔͛ͫt̀̎̑ ͣ͊̚ch̔͌oͫͤiͣ̆̔̃̐c̀̏́ͪͬ̇̍es̋̌͊̏.̂̾̉͐""

And here the alcohol was working so well. "I don't know where to begin it was...abstract..." Yeah that was a good word for a dream where he was choked and...touched by some unholy hell spawn made up of people who hated him the most. "And probably contains some...stuff you don't need to know about."he murmured through his sip of scotch.

”Which is why you are doing it here than anywhere else. I don’t want to get a phone call about you doing this anywhere got it?” Sam asked swirling his glass. If the self-pity continued Sam might throw a fist or two. However he kept them fixed on the couch and his glass. The next questions wasn’t answered till after Alex explained his dream a little.

”It helps sometimes more than others, I think it all depends who you talk to.” Sam said shrugging his shoulders. ”I don’t like to talk about it much because some of the stuff I had done needed to be done and it was better if I did it than someone else.” Sam said thinking about it. He took a sip of his scotch and thought a bit more about the conversation.

”There is always things I don’t need to know about and there will be things I don’t want to know about. However if it is causing you to do questionable things like get drunk while underage… or getting in trouble for drinking. That is when I’ll have an issue. You don’t want to talk about it then don’t but you need to find some better outlets then drinking.” Sam said sipping his glass. ”We already have one drunk in the school. Don’t need two.” he sipped his glass and then set it down and filled it again.

”Now, how many faces did you see and what did they say? Or was it the mother and fathers you saw?” Sam asked curiously speaking from experience.

Alex nodded absently at the mention of not getting caught drinking anywhere else. Keyword being caught, Sam would never knew if he never got caught. So that was the plan, wasn't that hard, cops weren't everywhere and people often turned blind eyes to the illegal things. Hell, they turned a blind eye to most things that didn't directly affect them. He was, after all, well aware of how invisible a kid like himself could be.

"It helps sometimes more than others, I think it all depends who you talk to. I don’t like to talk about it much because some of the stuff I had done needed to be done and it was better if I did it than someone else."

"So no..."he stated simply with a look that was enough to say exactly what he was thinking. Hypocrite, Sam was in just as much trauma as him. The excessive drinking made that clear. The man wasn't looking to set a world record for the most alcohol drunk in a day. His would-be father was burying his troubles in a sea of scotch, whiskey, and whatever else he could get his hands on.

"There is always things I don’t need to know about and there will be things I don’t want to know about. However if it is causing you to do questionable things like get drunk while underage… or getting in trouble for drinking. That is when I’ll have an issue. You don’t want to talk about it then don’t but you need to find some better outlets then drinking. We already have one drunk in the school. Don’t need two."

He sighed and looked down at his glass, rubbing a thumb over the thick ice, contemplating what he should say. Just how much was he willing to tell Sam in order to at least remove some of the burden from his shoulders. This ghost had been haunting him in silence for so long that when people started actually worrying about him, he didn't know what to do. He was used to taking care of himself, fixing his own problems no matter what came his way, but now he was hitting this dead end. This perfect life he had been wishing for was here and yet his brain was just unwilling to accept the contrast. If he spoke, if he talked, would it crush him, would it turn the world against him? He had no way of knowing.

"Now, how many faces did you see and what did they say? Or was it the mother and fathers you saw?"

"Three...Arthur Brown, the man I had killed...one of those bird hunters that came to the school looking to kill me before the trail and...another man, one that I hadn't thought about, for a really long time..."he sighed, nursing his drink a little closer to his chest as he drew his legs up, automatically trying to draw away and make himself smaller, more contained. "They just, kept talking about how I was a monster, that I should kill myself, or they were going to kill me, or do...other things..."he sipped his drink trying to squash the ugly sensation that cropped up.

"Kn͑̒ͤo̾w ͭͥͩ͊̔̆a̓ͣ̓̐ͤ̀ͪ f̓̑ͪͣͫe̋͆w͒͑̔ ̑̉ͯ̆̋̄ͬf͋̄ͧ͂ͧo͊͊̈́lkͯ͛ͧsͬ̃̄̆ ͌͛̌̐ͤwh̎̐̈́̀̇͒͆o̐͋ ͧ͊̃͗ͮ͑ͨwͮͤ̏ȏuld́͋͒ ͂̃̏på̏͐̐̓̈́̑yͪͮ̃͐ ͧͯ̄͆gͬͮ̈ͣ͌̍öͪ̉̉͛̈́oͭ̊̏ͣͥ̑̓d̃ ̄̌mͩ̀͐̾̔ͦͫo̽̔̂̈ͩnͫ̾̀̅̔ͪ̚ēy fo͑̈́̓̅ͥr ͣ̋aͣͭ̈́ ͛͗s͐̄͂p̉́ͭ̚ecͧͪi̋̊me̐n̐ͨ͆̆̑ͮ̅ ͭͤ̇̆l͆̿̓̃̚ik̾ͥͩé̂͑ ͊ͬ͋ͩ̆̈y͐͑ͤ̐̆ou,̓̉̿̎̋̓ ͦ̑̋̅ͯͯo͐ͬͫr̃̾ ̄ͣ̄̀̌a̒̈́͂̚tͥͨ̋͛͆̓̇ ͪͪͮͣ̓͌͊lͭ̏͐̆̈́͊̓e̅ͥͬa̍st͋́ ͛mak̔͌͐̃̄̄͗e͗̈́͛̏̏ ͐̂ͩͪ̎g̈́ͭ̑ͭͪo̊̓ͦo͗dͧͩ͋̓ ̌̌̽ͦ̆ͩ̚u͐ͯ̌͛̽s͊̿͆̆ë́ ͛̊ǒ̏̊̊f̿ͮ̔ͤ͊ͬ̐ ͊͌̔ͯ̚y͊ͭͥ̐̓o͆̉ͪͣ̾̓̅u͗̈́r͆͒̅ bͩ̉̓ỏ͗͛͑ͯd̽̎y,ͧ̐̾ͪ̂̎̅ ̇HA͊̓̓̇̐̎̑,͗͌͋̌ͪ̈́ ŷo̽ͭ̏ͩü̇̇̿ͧͥ'͊̌r͐͆ͣe̿̒̈̈́͐̿ ̽̅́p͒̒ͤ͑ŕ͐̾͑ͭ͛͂e͐ͣͪt͂ͨt̒̂y͆̏̉̈̒̐ͯ ̐͋̓̑͊ͧ̽e͂̏͂̂͌̓͐n͒ͪ̑̽ô̒̏ͮͣͣ̍uͬ̓͐̃͗g͐ͬͦȟ͊ͯ ̀͊͌͂̋̈ͤfͭ͊̽ͧ̃o͆͛͐̃͊̚rͦͬ iͪ̅ͨ͋t.ͫ̔ͧ̀̉̉"

He pressed a hand to his eyes, shivering as the nausea rolled over him again with emotions he didn't want to identify. He didn't want it, god make it stop. "Dad...I think I'm fucked up, really fucked up..." He wondered briefly if this was the first time he had called the man dad to his face. Maybe, it wasn't like they spent a lot of their time together talking.

Sipping his scotch Sam listened to his adopted son explain his nightmare and the faces he had seen and why he had seen them. Sam had a feeling Alex killed before but Sam had seen monsters and murderers before. Alex wasn’t one of them. ”Alex, I told you before. I know monsters, I know killers, been targeted by more assassins than I can name. You are far from a monster.” he paused and took another sip.

”You don’t think about killing yourself do you?” he asked more out of concern than curiosity. Though if the answer was something Sam didn’t like he was defiantly going to have him see Gemma. The woman knew how to talk.

”Now did you only defend yourself when they ended up dying?” he asked adding to the concern already present. This time he had a feeling he knew the answer.

"You are far from a monster."

He wished he could believe him, wished that Sam's words made what he felt in the pit of his stomach go away. But it wasn't and it wouldn't. The denial only felt like it made things worse, it did nothing to lift the guilt or disgust off his shoulders. There was no fix for that, there was no removing the stain. Have been and always will be a monster. The need for survival, he was realizing now, was the only thing that had kept the thoughts at bay. Kept his mind busy with other tasks. But without it, there was nothing to restrain it, nothing to keep him from thinking on the past.

"You don’t think about killing yourself do you?"

He flinched, memories of the desert house, the bodies, the gun in his hand, how close he had been to ending it there or letting himself burn with the rest of the bodies. Or the months after, waiting for death to do what it should have done a long time ago. He shouldn't be alive, at least in that time, that's what it had felt like. That god was holding off just to punish him. At times it still felt like that, god was just waiting to make things more painful for him.

"I did...a-along time ago, before coming here. For a long time didn't feel like I should be alive, I just didn't have the guts do it...But now...I'm just tired, exhausted, I don't want to exist but I don't want to die, not really. I just don't want to think for a really long time..." It didn't makes sense, but that's what it was. He didn't want the burden of existing any more, he just wanted to shut everything off, walk away from it all, forgetting everything. Start new, completely new.

"Now did you only defend yourself when they ended up dying?"

He sunk deeper into his seat, "Yes, but it doesn't make it feel any better..." By now he was getting the sense that Sam, without asking, had figured out that this most recent death had not been his first killing. "Dad...when you were a kid, did-that is did any one ever-..."he sighed, frustrated with himself, "Never mind..." He wanted to tell him the full story, but he couldn't bring himself to actually say it, to actually put into words what had happened to him so long before he came here.