Quicksilver by Elektra Pendragon A large, moist hand covered Dick Carter's mouth before he could scream. An arm wrapped around his waist from behind, and even with all his strength he couldn't stop himself from being dragged into the dark shadows of the trees beside the sidewalk. He pulled at the hand around his mouth, tried to elbow and kick the person behind him, but couldn't get lose. The dragging stopped, and suddenly he was being spun around. The shadows blurred with the distant light of the streetlamp, making him dizzy. His back landed heavily and painfully against the rough bark of a tree, and a heavy body pressed against his, pinning him down. He breathed in sharply through his nose, almost gagging on the thick smell of dirt and smoke, ready to scream and fight for all he was worth. "Stop it, Dickweed. It's me. It's Tyler." The voice was rough, and the words were hissed angrily, but Dick would know that nickname anywhere. He squinted in the darkness, barely making out the familiar outline of his best friend's face, the glittering black holes of his eyes. He nodded his obedience silently, sucking in a few more nosefulls of the smoke-smell of Tyler's skin. The shadows grew as Tyler leaned closer, his night-blackened face filling Dick's field of view. Tyler breathed in deeply through his nose, a slow, expansive noise that made Dick's skin itch. The heavy weight lifted off his chest as Tyler pushed himself away, his hand slipping down Dick's face roughly before it was gone. Dick leaned against the tree for a moment to catch his breath, then he carefully peeled himself off the bark, feeling bruises forming where the bumps and ridges had been painfully forced into his skin. His lips tasted gritty with salt and dirt. He coughed into his hand as he wiped at his mouth. Tyler looked over his shoulder and all around, his gaze darting through the shadows so fast Dick was surprised his neck didn't snap. "Tyler, where the hell have you been? What the fuck happened to you?" The streetlight barely penetrated the darkness this far into the trees, but it was enough. Tyler's clothes were torn, dirty, barely rags hanging off his skin. There were irregular dark patches all over his pale flesh, either bruises or the dirt Dick could still taste on his mouth. Tyler finally stopped his frantic study of the shadows to meet Dick's eyes for more than a second. A cold chill ran down his aching spine as he realized that his friend actually looked scared. "You gotta help me, man. Don't let them take me, they can't take me, I'm not him! I'm not like him, I swear he made me do it yougottahelpmeDickthisissofuckedup..." His words were swallowed by his panic, turned into unintelligible, panicked babblings. Dick put his hands up, making gestures the way he'd seen people in movies deal with crazy people. "Tyler. Tyler! Don't worry, they can't get you. There's no one here. It's okay. Just tell me what happened." Tyler stopped talking, but he went back to that never-ending swiveling of his head, alert to the smallest sound. He even tilted his head up, sniffing the air like an animal. /'What the hell happened to him?'/ Dick dared to step closer, his hands still up in what he hoped was a calming posture. "Look, my parents are gone again. You'll be safe at my house. No one will even know you're there. We've got an alarm and everything. No one can get you." Tyler nodded, barely looking at Dick as he scanned the horizon for whatever horrors that had done... whatever to him. Dick started to side-step his way towards the sidewalk, keeping his eyes trained on his friend as he moved slowly. Tyler tracked him blindly, keeping his overactive vigilance all the way through the park and up the street to Dick's house. He stayed in the shadows, following Dick like a ghost. Tyler hid in the bushes as Dick entered the code for the house, then checked the area twice before he made the mad dash from the bushes to front door, slamming it shut behind him. He didn't seem to breathe until Dick had locked the door and set the alarm. In the full light of the parlor, Dick could see just how bad off his friend really was. There were leaves and small branches in his dirty hair, his eyes were wild. His skin was scratched, bruised, and blackened with mud or *something* in big, misshapen spots that covered just about everything Dick could see. His face was puffy, and a large black circle was already forming under his right eye. His left ear looked bitten or torn, the curve of it irregular and wrong under the brown-black muck that covered that side of his head. He breathed quick and heavy as he stared at the floor, and his muscles trembled and twitched continuously. "What the FUCK happened?" Tyler's haunted eyes turned to Dick, but he just mutely shook his head. "Okay, I don't care. It--it doesn't matter." Dick couldn't look at him in that state anymore. His eyes scanned the room, following the clearly visible path of footprints leading from the door to where Tyler stood on the white carpet, bare feet--bare feet!--torn and bleeding. His mom was going to kill him when she saw the mess. He looked away from the stains, concentrating on the closed door, the smears of dirt across its pristinely painted surface. "Um, go ahead and--why don't you get cleaned up, and I'll order a pizza or something. The, uh, shower's, well, you know where it's at..." He was never so grateful as when Tyler quietly and quickly padded up the stairs. He could trace his steps across the once-clean floor, and again he couldn't help but wonder just what had happened to his friend over the past week. He'd never shown up at any of the graduation parties, not even his own. Mr. Smallwood hadn't been too worried--he'd said he'd done the same thing when he was Tyler's age, gone off for a pre-summer wild-oats weekend--but something beyond a little kinky sex had happened since anyone had last seen him. This was serious. He should call the police. They'd know what to do with him. Dick crossed the parlor into the living room and picked up the phone. His fingers hesitated over the numbers. He licked his lips, filling his mouth with the salt-dirt taste from Tyler's hand. Upstairs, the shower turned on. Dick held his breath and dialed quickly. "Fatone pizza. We deliver in thirty or its free," a disaffected voice mumbled into the receiver. "Yeah, um, I'd like a large pizza delivered. Extra pepperoni, extra hamburger, extra sausage..." The banality of ordering their regular from Fatone's had a calming effect on Dick, and by the time he hung up, he didn't feel so panicked. It was just like any other night when Tyler'd gotten too drunk to go home, or they'd just come back from a game. Nothing wrong at all. Dick wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then stumbled off towards the downstairs bathroom to wash up. The pizza was cold by the time Tyler made his way downstairs. Dick was dejectedly picking at the toppings of his second slice, disinclined to finish eating it, when his friend was suddenly there, pulling back the dining room chair across from him. Dick dropped the piece of sausage he'd been holding, but didn't embarrass himself by gasping aloud. Tyler looked better, but not by much. He was scrubbed pink-raw and bare chested, wearing only an old pair of Dick's sweatpants. The black eye was fully formed and darkened, and the other bruises and scratches were livid-fresh across his arms and chest. His hair was clean and slicked down from the water that dripped down his neck, but on the left side it curled and spiked out, strangely shorter around his ear. Tyler turned his face, keeping Dick from getting a clear look. His earlier manic energy was utterly drained. He slid lifelessly into the chair and scooped out a piece of pizza from the box. Without even seeming to see it, he scarfed the slice hungrily. A six-pack of beer sat between them, but neither seemed very interested in it. Dick cleared his throat before speaking, "So, ah, what happened?" Tyler grabbed another slice, this time eating the meat toppings piece by piece before tossing the denuded pizza back in the box. "You don't wanna know, man. It's... weird." "Try me." "It's... I'm... different, now. I... did... things... There was this guy..." "Oh," Dick said quickly, sitting back in his chair. Neither of them could look at each other. "Not like that," Tyler said quickly. This time, he didn't bother liberating a single piece. He slid the entire box closer to his side of the table and began to pick off the toppings of the other slices, popping them into his mouth and chewing as he spoke. "He... we never did--not like you and I..." "So, you're--" "I don't want to talk about it," Tyler said flatly. He suddenly pushed the pizza away, his face twisting in anger. "Look, I don't know what the fuck happened, but I want to just forget about it and have everything back to normal. Can you just drop it?" Dick raised his head to meet Tyler's gaze. Though his friend seemed recovered, rational, angry even, the hunted look still hadn't left his eyes. He looked ready to bolt, or scream, or something. Dick nodded his head, willing to let it slide. For now. Tyler leaned back in his chair, eying the remains of the pizza while he brushed a hand through his hair. His fingers lingered around his ear, tenderly feeling through uneven hair. The bulge of his bicep stood out starkly without a hint of fat to smooth the toughened muscle. Tyler had lost some weight over the last week--or perhaps gained more muscle. He had always been the stronger of the two, solidly built like a pro, but now he was sleek as well as big. As he stretched back, the hem of the sweatpants rode down, showing off his perfectly defined abs--something Tyler had always aspired to but failed to achieve in his years of weight training after school. Despite the torn skin and bruises, Tyler physically looked stronger than ever. His eyes, though... They were like crystal, ready to shatter. "You want to call your dad or something?" Dick asked quickly, unnerved. Tyler tilted his head, his fingers still gingerly touching his ear. His eyes focused on Dick, the gaze intense. It seemed to take him a full minute before the question completely registered. "No," he answered, distracted. He leaned forward, his hands coming to rest on top of the table, fingers spread out over the lacy cloth. His eyes didn't blink as he seemed absorbed in Dick's face, the corners of his eyes wrinkled in confusion. /'Like he doesn't even know me.'/ "You wanna watch TV?" Tyler didn't answer, just stared at Dick like he was a complete stranger. His nostrils flared, and the tips of his fingers turned white as they pressed into the table. 'This is it,' Dick thought to himself. 'This is where he's really going to snap.' Tyler blinked, then shook his head. His gaze lowered to the table, to his hands. They flexed, once, a ripple of movement flashing under the thin skin, then he pushed his chair away from the table. "I just need to crash," he mumbled, his voice rough. He stood and started to walk out of the room, giving Dick his first clear look at his back. "Oh my God..." The damage he'd glimpsed through the ragged clothes and dirt was completely visible now. The black spots, those that weren't regular bruises, looked charred, the skin flaking and peeling away. The smoke smell rose up in Dick's memory, and he suddenly realized his friend had been in a fire, not a fight. "Tyler, we've got to get to a hospital." Tyler stopped at the doorway, turning his head to look over his shoulder. He seemed confused, then twisted to try to look at his scarred back. "That? No, it's.. It doesn't hurt. I just couldn't reach in the shower." Dick was already there beside him, his hand instinctively reaching out to touch, to know what had happened. Tyler's skin was still moist from the shower, and the burned flesh felt sticky to the touch. He scratched it with a fingernail. Tyler hissed, shoulders hunching, but the blackened skin came away, leaving clean, clear, pink-healthy flesh beneath. The gunk stuck under his nail and slide grossly between his fingers. It was like a scab over a freshly closed wound--disgusting and hard to pick off, but no longer painful. There were spots larger than his fist covered with the same singed scabs. A burn that bad, one that charred flesh like a BBQ, wouldn't heal in a week, and Tyler certainly didn't have them before graduation. "When did--" "I don't want to talk about it," Tyler said flatly, but Dick could hear the anger in his voice. "Will you at least let me clean you up, jerkoff?" Tyler smiled, that old familiar smirk of a grin, for the first time that night. "Knock yourself out, Dickweed." Dick wanted to hit him, but he wasn't sure there was an area of his body that wasn't already bruised. Instead, he contented himself by prodding Tyler forward, propelling him back towards the stairs and down the hall to his room. When they reached the bed, Dick barely had to nudge him before Tyler fell onto the sheets. He stretched out with a groan, resting his head on the pillow. Dick went into his bathroom to get a wet washcloth, deliberately digging around for a dark-coloured one. His mother's preference for white never held out long when he and Tyler would come home after a game, bleeding all over her perfect towels. There were always a few navy ones hidden away in his private bathroom for these occasions. When he looked down at Tyler stretched out on his bed, Dick felt a surge familiarity. How many times had they crashed at his house, nursing game wounds and celebratory hangovers together? It seemed like old times, good times, again. He tried not to think about what had happened to his friend, or that they might never have a night like this again. Graduation was already changing everything. For a moment, Dick thought his friend had fallen into an exhausted sleep, but when he carefully straddled Tyler's butt, Tyler turned his face to the side and looked back at him. From this angle, he could clearly see the bright red and blistered skin covering the delicate curve of his left ear, the pink-red scalp beneath his singed hair. Dick concentrated on the burn wound on his shoulder instead, the ugly scab covering the healed skin. He prodded the char, made a face as some of it mucked off onto the cloth. Tyler grunted, and Dick quickly apologized. "Nah, it's nothing," Tyler said gruffly. "Doesn't hurt. Not like when he did it." Dick leaned over and scooted the trashcan closer to the edge of the bed. He wiped the sticky flesh on the rim. "So," he said carefully, casually, as he started working in earnest to clean off the scab, "that guy did this?" Tyler grunted again as Dick pressed hard and wiped off most of the scab, revealing the pinked flesh beneath the dark scar. He leaned over to wipe off the gel-like dead skin on the edge of the trashcan, and then used a corner to clean off the last traces from the burn. It seemed completely healed--the edges were already turning white in the air--but it still looked raw and tender, like most of Tyler's skin. Dick kept his mind from pursuing that thought too far. For the first time since he'd returned, Tyler was acting almost like his old self, and Dick felt like he was walking on the razor-edge of having his friend back and scaring him away. Tyler still hadn't answered his question, and didn't seem inclined to. He lowered his head to the pillow, fisting his hands in the sheets. He was quiet and still, and he was letting Dick take care of him, which was more than he'd expected only an hour ago. Dick let the question die in the silence between them, and concentrated on his task. Tyler groaned and tensed beneath him, but one by one Dick peeled away the dead skin until Tyler's back was clean. He gave Tyler one last swipe with the back of the cloth, leaving everything pink-white and glistening, but smooth. He draped the washcloth over the clean side of the trashcan, keeping it near just in case. 'Just in case.' This might be the last time they have a just-in-case. They weren't accepted to the same schools, and the football teams were only interested in recruiting Matt Fucking Honeycutt. No more long nights after practice, getting drunk and relaxing. No more playful tackles in the living room while watching movies. No more wounds to lick. Dick's hands lingered over the faint marks on Tyler's skin. The skin seemed so soft and delicate. He kept his touch light, just feeling the difference in the textures. The past week had already shown Dick that he was losing his best friend to some other world. They never even got to celebrate graduation together. Tyler hummed deeply, stretching out and sighing as Dick touched his tender back. He moved his touches into a sort-of massage, more of a petting than a work-out of his muscles. He could feel that Tyler had definitely bulked up in the past week, the added definition making everything hard and powerful beneath the delicate new skin. Dick lowered his head and ran his tongue over the fresh-pink at the base of Tyler's neck. The awful smoke-smell was gone, replaced with the stinging sweetness of salt. "Hey, Dickweed. Your boner's poking me in the back." Dick snorted into the back of Tyler's neck. Same old Tyler. Maybe things weren't as bad as they'd first seemed. "No, seriously. It fucking hurts." Dick remembered the horrible wounds, the naked flesh, and sat up quickly. He was in the process of apologizing and moving off the bed when Tyler suddenly flipped onto his back. His fingers dug into Dick's shoulders like claws as he pushed him over, rolled on top of him and pinned him to the mattress. Dick went on the defensive, trying to kick out and smack Tyler at the same time, but his friend was way too strong. His muscles shone out through his skin as he pressed Dick's arms into the bedding, his weight easily holding him down. His hips ached as Tyler's body held his thighs apart at an odd angle, making bones burn and muscles want to tear. Tyler's cock pressed into his balls, making him want to grit his teeth between the pain and pleasure of it. Tyler was hot and impossibly hard all over, and Dick couldn't fight his way out. If Tyler hadn't been laughing, he might have thought to be afraid. "You're so easy, man," he said, laughing still. His mercurial moods were maddening. "And you're an asshole. Get the fuck off me." Dick struggled a little more. His arms were really starting to hurt where Tyler's hands held him. "No," Tyler answered simply. He leaned down, brushing his nose along Dick's neck, breathing in deeply. "You smell good." His tongue was hot and wet and rough, but his teeth were sharp. "You taste good." Tyler's hips started to rub against him, making Dick's hip joints want to scream. "Not now, I'm not in the mood." Tyler sniffed him again, the huff of air tickling against his jaw. "Yeah, you are." His hand covered Dick's cheek, holding him still with a rough caress as he burrowed into the curve of his neck. Tyler sucked and bit at his skin until Dick finally gave in. "Such a fucking prick," Dick muttered as he turned his face, catching Tyler's lips and biting them, quickly, before slipping his tongue inside. Tyler bore down with his hips, and Dick could have sworn he was going to be split in half before he even got his pants off. Then Tyler sat back, crawling off his body, letting him breathe clearly again. Dick sat up enough to tear off his shirt and start working down the buttons of his jeans. Tyler just sat back on his heels, his erection tenting the sweatpants obscenely as he watched Dick with hungry eyes. By the time Dick was shoving the denim down over his thighs, Tyler was back on top of him, his nails scratching as he helped take them all the way off. Tyler devoured his skin. He moved down Dick's chest, teeth scraping and tongue licking. He had to taste everywhere, his nose pressed into Dick's armpit as he chewed the edge of his pectoral, his tongue slipping inside the curl of his navel, his teeth breaking open the skin on the points of his hips. Dick's cheeks burned with embarrassment as he heard the squeaks and groans coming from his mouth, more turned on than ever by his friend's enthusiasm. Foreplay was usually a "I'm horny," and his senses were overwhelmed by the sudden complete interest Tyler was taking in his body, as well as the delay in the sex. Any other night, they both would have come by now. When Tyler's hot, moist breath panted across his erection, Dick almost came from the thought of that rough, exploring mouth against him. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, trying to hold off just a little longer, to enjoy the prolonged sex as long as possible. His fingers wanted to bury themselves into Tyler's hair, but he was afraid of hurting him. He gripped the sheets, twisting and panting as he waited on the edge. Tyler's hand was cold in comparison to the fierce blush across his face. Dick arched up, moving his hips to Tyler's mouth as he turned his face, blindly nuzzling the rough fingers. But Tyler held him down, one hand holding his hips to the mattress as the other brushed over his face, traced his lashes, ghosted over his mouth. It was such a tender touch, Dick's eyes opened. He looked up to see Tyler staring down at him, no longer hunted but HUNGRY. Dick licked his lips, calling to mind the taste of salt and dirt. Tyler's eyes watched as his tongue moved, then he swooped down. Dick lifted his face for a kiss, but instead Tyler scooped his arms under Dick's body and flipped him, face-down on the mattress. Instinctively he spread his knees, stretching out. He lifted his hips to reposition his cock, but Tyler grabbed him, held him up and still. Dick tensed, expecting the blunt, tearing pressure of Tyler's erection stretching him. Instead, he felt Tyler press his face into his ass, and then a small tickling sensation. It was startling and unexpected, and Dick tried to move away in shock. Tyler's fingers stretched out, holding him back, nails digging into his stomach. His teeth scraped the tender skin, making Dick cry out in not-quite pain. Then the rough-wet tongue returned, sucking and licking and tasting *everywhere*. It was something they'd never done before, but once his mind wrapped around it, once the pleasure of his best friend's mouth against his most sensitive skin got past his surprise, Dick shifted his knees further apart, angled his hips, and melted into Tyler's hands and mouth. When Tyler finally surged up his back, Dick pressed back, about ready to explode from the need of it. Tyler's cock slid in the drool his mouth left behind, popping inside easier than it should have considering Dick had no idea where the lotion was at. Tyler's nails dug new holes into his stomach as he held him still, angling Dick's body around him as he pushed in with sharp thrusts. Each powerful jerk of his hips sent a burning pulse through Dick's body, but it was only the beginning. He paused once he was fully inside, his humid breath panting against Dick's neck, and then Tyler started to fuck for real. Dick wanted--*needed*--so bad to jerk off and come before Tyler finished, but he was having a hard enough time keeping his head from hitting the wall. His face rubbed against the mattress as he absorbed every thrust, his mind growing fuzzy with the shocks of pleasure. It reminded him of the first time Tyler fucked him, in the locker room after a game, the tiles slick and hard against his cheek. He was so fucking turned on, he was about to explode. Dick pushed himself up on his hands, using the wall as leverage. Tyler growled against the back of his neck, his fingers clenching his skin, but the angle was better, so much better, and Dick clenched back, deep inside, making the growl turn into a desperate moan. Even without anyone touching his cock, Dick could feel his orgasm building deep in his balls. He tilted his hips, moving with more desperate need against his friend. Tyler growled again, a low, drawn out rumbling of his throat that echoed through Dick's body. He shivered, then hissed as Tyler's teeth sank into the back of his neck, latching on to either side of his spine. It hurt worse when he moved, so he stopped, held himself still as Tyler's teeth trembled around his spine. A thrill of the forbidden shivered through Dick's thoughts, enjoying the challenge. He stayed still, but moved inside, clenching at just the right moment to bring them both that extra bit of pleasure. Tyler's hands hefted Dick's hips higher, at a different angle, and suddenly Tyler was impossibly hard, impossibly large. He stretched Dick just like it was that first time, pushing him wider and more open with every thrust. Sweat or blood or drool flowed down the sides of Dick's neck, but even the sharp tear of teeth and cock wasn't enough to stop him from thrashing, coming, yelling hard as the terrible pleasure of it all tore him apart. Dick nearly lost consciousness. His hands slipped lifelessly off the wall, and he fell onto the mattress, Tyler's weight knocking the breath out of him. He was still fucking, still desperately pushing inside Dick, stretching him, bruising him inside and out. Dick gasped, his brain slowly clearing, his skin tingling and sensitive in the aftershocks. The distant aches were emerging out of the fog of pleasure, making everything start to hurt again. He couldn't breathe properly, and the pain in his neck was becoming unbearable. It wasn't sexy anymore. It just fucking hurt. He tried to raise himself up again, to take some of Tyler's weight off his lungs, but Tyler's hands slipped out from under his belly to hold him down. His nails sank into the meat of his shoulders, the pin-points of pain making Dick rethink trying to breathe. Tyler fairly purred when he stilled, his teeth shifting in Dick's neck as he seemed to nuzzle into his skin. Dick remained carefully frozen and hoped Tyler was close; he wasn't sure how much more he could take tonight. Dick's scream caught in his throat as those nails scraped down his back, tearing open skin as they traveled from his shoulders to his waist, holding him down. His skin split open as though under a dozen knives, and hot blood like boiling water flowed down his sides. Tyler whined like a hurt animal in his ear, his hips pounding desperately, once, twice. Dick tried to twist, to push Tyler off and get him to STOP, but the teeth clenched harder. Far away, he heard a cracking noise, a growl so deep and long it was barely human, and finally a howl so loud his eardrums nearly burst from its thunder. He seemed to blink, or pass out, or something, and it was over, silent. He felt pressure... somewhere. Everything seemed distant, fogged, disconnected from his brain. The only way he could tell he was moving was that the bedroom wall in front of his eyes moved, slid, turned, until he was suddenly looking up at the ceiling. He wasn't aware of his hands or his feet, though he tried to move them, to wave them in front of his face or move or something. There were wet sounds, loud smacks, purring growls, but he couldn't keep his thoughts together to tell where they were coming from. The ceiling turned from yellow to grey, claimed by the same fog that covered his brain. The last thing he saw was big, sharp teeth, stained-red and utterly inhuman. Then, he saw nothing. *** Tyler hooked his claws under one gleaming pink-yellow rib and snapped it cleanly away from the breastbone. He quickly worked his way down the keys of bone, snapping them and holding them apart until he could thrust his muzzle unimpeded into the thick wet tissue. He rooted around until he found the sweet meat of the heart, quiet and still in a bed of slick, thin blood. His teeth tingled with pleasure as he wrapped them around the prize and shook his head, tearing the muscle away from the surrounding tissue. He chewed happily, careful to not let the flavorful flesh fall from his elongated jaws. He absently went back to slicing the thick skin away from the tender meat, concentrating on the satisfying trickle of saltiness that slipped down his throat just before he swallowed. He nosed out the liver next, almost smelling the individual organ in the mess of torn flesh and bone. It was thick, gel-like, and he swallowed most of it whole. His hunger didn't retreat with the meal, but spiked, making him all the more ravenous. He peeled away long strips of muscle, barely tenderizing them with his thick fangs before swallowing and going back for more. His tongue lolled out, dipping into the hallowing cavern of bone to lap up mouthfuls of rich blood. It felt like days passed as he endlessly gorged himself on meat--sweet, tender, bleeding, squirming, screaming, fresh meat--before his never-ending hunger ceased to burn and was finally quenched. He licked at his mouth and hands, savoring the flavor of iron-salt against his fur. The smell of it was all around him, the heady scent of a fresh kill. He could still hear the pleasant SNAP as he broke the neck of his prey, a shiver of pleasure running down his spine. Ever since the full moon, all Tyler had known was his hunger. It was a ceaseless ache, bone-deep, unquenchable. Nothing could fill that terrible void inside, not until now. Tyler's jaws snapped in a yawn. He felt calm, tired, satiated, and powerful enough now to fight off even those ghosts, if they ever came back for him. He stretched, shaking his fur, before curling protectively around the carcass. Nothing, not even the bastard Salvatore, would take his prey away from him. He wrapped an arm over the top of the meat, ready to awake if any other predators tried to steal it as he slept. He nuzzled blindly into the soft, short fur that still clung to the untouched head of his prey, letting the comfortingly familiar smell lull him into sleep. THE END