


Bears & Ghosts & Perils of Hallowe'en

by Elah



Category: Queer as Folk
Genre: Horror, Hurt-Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-01
Updated: 2008-03-01
Packaged: 2013-05-29 08:13:50
Rating: M
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,587
Publisher: www.fanfiction.net
Story URL: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/4105781/1/
Author URL: http://www.fanfiction.net/u/1393547/Elah
Summary: Something happens to Brian in the Halloween night; something he has yearned for will be offered. Something his friends have been afraid of is about to happen.





	Bears & Ghosts & Perils of Hallowe'en

**Bears & Ghosts & Perils of Hallowe'en**

"Sleep tight, little Gus," Brian said softly to his sleeping son.

Gus had put all of his soft toys in his bed, then climbed in to sleep in middle of them. He hugged the toys tightly in his slumber. His costume for Halloween lay discarded on a stool beside his bed. He had made an adorable "Gus the Bear". The bear he had gotten from his father was his dearest toy, and he had insisted that he wanted to be a bear, too, for Halloween. A couple of hours earlier he had left his mothers' house to Trick-or-treat wearing the bear costume and carrying his own bear with him.

The little boy had tired himself out going around the neighborhood with Brian, Lindsey, and Melanie. At the first house they visited, Gus had asked Brian to take care of Gus the Bear for him while he went to the door with his mommies. As soon as he got back to his father, he wanted his bear back, and Brian was handed the bag of treats to carry instead. Later, the excitement, the late time of day, and the walk combined to make sure Brian had two bears to carry. Melanie smiled at them and took over the bag of treats. The flashes of Lindsey's camera made Gus hide his face against his father's neck.

Brian had put Gus to bed very soon after returning to the munchers' home. Gus had barely been awake as his father had changed him into his pajamas and helped him in the bathroom. There had been no good night story; Gus had been asleep as soon as his head was ten inches from the pillow. With one more gentle smile, Brian left his son to sleep in peace.

He joined the girls downstairs. They offered him a glass of wine, but Brian did not want to stay. Soon he was out on the streets again among the remaining "ghosts and goblins" and any other restless souls.

It was Halloween, and though Brian did not think further about the holiday, Brian was pestered with ghosts from past. Of course there was nothing new about that. His childhood was full of "ghosts" that did not rest in peace. But these ghosts were more recent in origin: they had made his days a living hell since last February, the night of the Rage Party, when Justin had left him. For the first couple of months, Brian had been successful in denying that he missed Justin. Brian had returned to his former life as the King Stud of Liberty Avenue, and the masses had welcomed him back as though nothing had changed. However, the anniversary of Justin's bashing was in April, and there was no escape from that night: he had tried. He had drunk too much, and he had taken drugs. He had tricked. Nothing had helped. He had remembered the feel and smell of Justin's blood on his hands. That memory seemed to break the barrier he had erected against memories of his life with Justin, and memories began to trickle back. They had been flooding lately.

He saw ghostly memories of Justin everywhere. Every day he saw Justin's discarded clothing unceremoniously left where they fell on his furniture and floor; the sketches Justin had done littered the desk and tables; and in some strange way Justin's striped socks had found their way back in his laundry, but if he tried to touch them, they disappeared, just as Justin himself had disappeared after the Rage party. And sadly, the Justin that he held in his arms every morning as the alarm went off disappeared, too.

In the diner Brian lifted his head when Justin's ghostly laughter drifted into his ears. At Woody's he saw the "ghost" leaning against the wall watching him play pool. At the baths, he met the curious blue eyed "ghost" eager to try everything new. At Babylon, Justin's ghostly hands were the ones that aroused him, not the hands of whichever man was touching his body in passing or as they danced.

A year ago Justin was with him at Halloween, with him and Gus.

It was early in the evening, but Brian drove to Liberty Avenue and Babylon, regardless. These days, his place at Tremont seemed eerily silent, empty, and very cold. The only thing waiting for Brian at home was loneliness.

Brian parked the Corvette and walked aimlessly for some time. He had seen Justin around, not much, but enough to know that the teen was doing all right. Right after their break up, Brian had only seen Justin when he worked in the diner. Although Justin had seemed to lose interest in Woody's and Babylon, Debbie had kept tabs on Justin. She would not allow one of her boys just to disappear, no, not her. In just a couple of weeks, she had had Justin and his new boyfriend at her family dinners. After that the boyfriend had been invited by the munchers, too. Brian detested him meeting Gus, but he had no say in the matter. Brian did not like to meet Ian, the little screech maker, himself, but how could he not? There was no way he would let anyone know that he was so affected by Justin leaving him. Anyway, the voice of the violinist was as offensive to Brian as the sound of his violin. Lately he had seen more of Justin, and the two of them had reached some kind of tentative friendship, to Brian's bewilderment. That was the last thing he would have believed could happen! He had some little corner in Justin's life, and he felt good about it. And if that wasn't pathetic, what was?

Brian's aimless wanderings on Halloween took him into Babylon much earlier in the night than usual. The crowd was sparse, and the pickings were nothing to bother with, not yet. Brian went to the bar and ordered his usual double Beam. There were men cruising him - there always were - but he had had all the interesting asses already and, actually, a few not so interesting asses, too. His friends were supposed to come to Babylon, but he didn't think it likely that they would be there before midnight, and that was almost two hours away. There was nothing to do but drink and think.

Brian Kinney feeling something just because his ex was friendly to him: it was pathetic, but there was no denying it, it made him feel better. He did not feel good, but he felt better. Another thing he could not understand at all: why would Justin make the effort to save him when his nephew had gotten him into serious trouble with the law? Brian was really grateful that Justin had helped him find out the truth and recover his bracelet. He just couldn't understand why Justin would do that: what did the kid want? Brian had already paid for his education, hadn't he? Maybe it was about the loan, maybe Justin wanted Brian to pay for the new boyfriend, too.

Brian was steadily becoming drunk enough to be totally unreasonable. The bartender had tried to make him slow down, but he wouldn't listen. After Brian downed two more shots, the bartender told Brian that the next shot would be the last for a while. Brian knew better than to argue. He scanned the place, and noticed Anita, his drug supplier, coming in. He cast a withering glance towards the bartender who just shook his head when he saw Brian closing in on the notorious drug dealer.

Brian's deal with Anita was quickly made, but just as Anita was about to leave, she turned back. She looked concerned as she regarded the staggering man in front of her.

"Brian. You remember that those are four times as strong as my stuff usually is? Are you listening, Brian?"

"Yeah, mom. I hear you. Bye, thee you around." Her staggering client was lisping slightly, too.

Brian stumbled to a nearby seat. He stared at the four white pills on his palm. Four times as strong as normal stuff, just a half of a pill would give him nice buzz. One pill would take him high. Two would be an overdose. Four would end his miserable and pathetic life.

He could do that. Nobody would even know, they would think he had overdosed by accident since he was too drunk to heed Anita's warning. Nobody would ever know that Brian Kinney had been a loser that took his own life. Brian smirked. No one would know that he had also been vain to his last breath.

A man sat down beside Brian and swept the pills from Brian's hand into his own. Brian pivoted in his seat, ready to give the man a piece of his mind, but the words died on his lips. The man was beautiful, more so than Brian himself. He was taller than Brian, and his lean body was perfect. He wore glistening black leather that molded to his body as if it was painted on him. His nails were long and black, and his straight black hair came almost to his waist. Only his face and hands were bare, but from what Brian could see of his skin, it was almost translucent, it was that white. His lips had almost no color, only the faintest hint of pink was there. His eyes were black pools with an infinite depth of serenity.

The unwavering eyes of the pale man captured Brian in their spell. He sensed a faint odor of something sweetly disgusting in the air. He wanted to turn his face away from him, but he couldn't. The man handed Brian a glass of blood red wine. Without conscious thought, Brian took the glass, lifted it to his lips, and drank the wine, though its blood-like metallic taste was not what he had expected. The man did not utter one word; he just kept staring at Brian. Brian did not like the wine, but he emptied his glass, regardless. The man smiled with his lips, but his eyes were like death.

Come! The pale man ordered, though he did not speak. The order echoed in Brian's mind. The man rose, turned, and walked to the dance floor. Brian followed.

The man pulled Brian tightly against his body, and their dance began. Brian could feel the man touching his neck, his back, and his waist. The caresses sent shivers everywhere in his body. Then the man pulled Brian's shirt from his pants and pushed his hands beneath the fabric. Brian gasped: the hands were cold. Shivers of pleasure and cold flowed through him.

Brian could not think. His hands had a will of their own as they caressed the pale man's buttocks, back, and neck. The tresses of the man's long hair slithered around Brian's fingers, hands, wrists, and arms as if they were alive.

The beauty of the pale face above him enthralled Brian. The man leaned towards Brian and smiled his beautifully dead smile. Then he parted his lips for a kiss, and Brian's eyes darkened with lust.

And then Brian could see--cold sweat broke out on his skin--where the man's tongue should have been was a mass of thick worms. Horrified, Brian tried to escape, but his body would not obey him. His own body, malleable and willing, pressed Brian against the man. Brian tried to keep his mouth shut, but he felt he worms writhing against his sensitive lips, and then he felt a brief sting. With the pain vanished his strength of will to resist the kiss. He let the worms in. They invaded every little part of his mouth, and Brian wanted to vomit.

Brian was a sensual man, and his mouth was one of his most erogenous areas. He had nothing to resist the sensations the kiss awakened in him, and he felt something like molten lava spreading through him from his mouth. Brian felt invaded, and he shivered violently.

The pale man stopped the kiss when Brian's eyes were glazed, and he was breathing brokenly through his mouth. One strong hand caressed Brian's back, while the other kept him in place. The hand on his back moved lower, and the man pushed his hand inside of Brian's pants. Then one cold digit found its way into Brian's tight hot channel. There was hardness without any muscularity; coldness instead of warmth. Brian glanced down at the hand that kept him still; it was the hand of a skeleton. In his mind Brian screamed desperately, but Brian's mind was in the prison of his own lust filled body. Not one sound escaped. There was no escape.

The hand of bone retreated, but Brian felt no relief. The pale man held him as easily as he would hold any willing man. The man looked down at Brian and smiled his soulless smile again.

_Brian, you have always dreamed about my embrace. Are you satisfied now?_

Brian stared at the pale man saying nothing. His heart beat desperation into his veins. The tears that wet his eyes burned like acid.

_Will I take you with me now, my loyal lover? That is the love you want. Is it not, Brian?_

The soulless, black eyes looked straight into Brian's soul. Not one of his walls, not one of his barricades could stand against those eyes. The shadows that sheltered Brian's core were pierced with the darkness much darker than anything he knew. Once there had been another blazing line of defense: Justin - Justin, who banished darkness for Brian with the light of his love. Now there was only the ghost of him, but the spectre smiled Justin's beautiful smile and offered Brian strength, strength enough for one word --

"No!" The word was Brian. "No! Not your love! Justin's! Justin…" Nothing else was left of the man known as Brian Kinney, shivering in Death's embrace.

The pale man smiled. This smile was different, one that Brian had not seen before. Now something stirred in the dead nothingness of his eyes: a bright and warm light made his face even more beautiful, and his smile was as gentle and warm as the light. Then, night became visible through the man as he disappeared slowly, becoming more and more unsubstantial. The last thing to disappear was the light in his eyes.

Brian returned to himself slowly. He had his coat on and found himself on his way home. He was exhausted and shaken to the core. Hot tears warmed his cheeks. He dried his face in his sleeve and walked slowly towards Tremont. He hoped Justin would be working the morning shift tomorrow.

---

That same Halloween just a few blocks away in a lonely dark alley, four white pills lay in the pale moonlight. The unsteady hand of a young man snatches the pills. The feverish eyes in his gaunt face reveal the story: he needs a meal, but he needs the pills even more. A pale man clad in black watches over the addict smiling sadly.


End file.
