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Between the Lines: Sequel to Somewhere Between	By : AceMaxwell Category: G through L > Hellboy Views: 6046 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Hellboy or the characters within, and I don't make money off Hellboy or this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
Fear him who, after the killing of the body, has power to throw you into hell. ~Luke 12:5

- John

Being under Demegov's spell is like watching my life through a TV screen from the opposite side of a room that's filled with smoke. I can't think of another way to explain it. I can hear things better than I can see them. Hellboy is speaking, threatening Demegov. Vaguely, I can see his face, contorted with pain and rage. I want to scream to him. I want to tell him not to let Anung un Rama get out. I do scream, and shout, and cry, but my voice echoes in my head. The closer I try to get of the floating images of reality, the more pain sears up my body.

Demegov tells HB that I will help him fulfill his purpose, and I can't take it anymore. I won't be the tool to bring the world crashing down. The agony soars to new heights, but I push through it. I won't be Hellboy's downfall. I won't…

The fog starts to clear. I can see Red standing across from us, his eyes glued to me. Something sharp is pressed against my throat. It's sliding through my fur, the edge catching with new pain. I'm a wolf. Good, I'll need my teeth. I curl my lips and growl. At least I think I growl. My body won't move.

The knife bites into my skin and panic rushes Hellboy's features. It gives me the strength to break through. I twist and sink my teeth into Demegov's arm.

"John, no!" HB screams.

Demegov jerks away. I can move again, but something is wrong, so wrong. The blood burns my throat, my stomach, my nose… It feels like I've swallowed napalm. I look up at Hellboy and whimper before my vision starts swimming.

HB turns to where I hear a fight going on and yells, "Get them out of here!"

- HB

I realize what he's going to do a second before he does it, way too damn late to stop him. What Demegov said in England about the pestilence of the world being in his blood rings in my ears and then John bites him. Demegov stumbles backwards, clutching his arm. I've got a perfect shot at taking him down, but I can't.

I turn to Lazarus as Demegov's blood hits the ground and hisses. It could already be too late, but I yell, "Get them out of here!"

John vomits blood and shudders into his human form. Black spreads through his veins, across his throat and his chest. I run to him, collapsing onto my knees and gently pulling him into my lap. His whole body is shaking. He's practically convulsing.

"Oh god, John," I murmur and push his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

He clings to my arms weakly, coughing. When he looks at me, I can see that the black running in his arteries has reached his eyes. He smiles. There's blood on his teeth.

"It was a deer."

"What?" I ask, not sure what he's talking about. I prop him up a little better and kiss his forehead. His skin is burning with fever.

"When I," John coughs and his blood hits my face. "When I got out… I killed a deer, not a person."

He's dying and he's relieved about not hurting anyone. I would be amused by how Boyscout that is if I wasn't fighting off tears. I can't lose him… I clutch him tightly against my chest and look back at Demegov.

"Fix him! You control these diseases so take them back," I scream.

The fucker grins at me. I'm going to spread those fucking teeth across the garden like seed. "His purpose is coming and soon mine will too."

Lazarus comes running from around the tree of knowledge, something white held over his head, "I found it!"

Demegov and I both turn to him. I have no clue what the hell he's doing, but whatever it is pisses Demegov off. He throws the knife into Lazarus's back and the thing Lazarus had been carrying goes flying. It thumps against the ground and rolls past me by a few feet. It looks like an apple, but completely white. Demegov grabs Lazarus by the hair and drags him towards the tree of knowledge.

"Feed it to him," Lazarus says as Demegov yanks the knife out of his back.

He found it as in it's fruit from the tree of life? That's why this memory is Lazarus's first. This is where he got his immortality. I grab the fruit and bite a piece out, taking it between my fingers. I slip the bite into John's mouth, but he doesn't move. He seems too still.

"No… No, don't do this, baby," I readjust my grip on him and fish the fruit out of his mouth. I chew it into a pulp to force down his throat. John's mouth tastes like blood. The heat is going out of him. My fingers shake as I touch his cheek. I wait. I don't really know what's supposed to happen, but it doesn't seem like anything is.

"Why isn't it working?"

I look to Lazarus just as Demegov gashes his neck open. Arterial spray gushes onto the dark tree in waves. The tree moans, at least, that's what it sounds like. The bark pulses and starts crawling backwards over the tree, leaving behind a black, smooth surface. The blood begins to glow and spreads into symmetrical symbols. The shapes have perfect mirror images on either side of a thick line running up the middle of the tree.

I cradle John while the tree of knowledge becomes a door with demon wings. This isn't like the lock in Russia, this is something else entirely. As a final touch, the trees branches reach down to flank the entrance, sprouting numerous pieces of dark fruit. This is where Hell first took root in human life and this is where human life ends.

Demegov laughs and drops Lazarus, answering my question, "Because the tree of life is meant for men, not monsters. It won't work on him any more than it would on you or me. He's dead, Hellboy."

My heart drops into my stomach. It can't be true. I slide my flesh fingers across John's neck, trying to find his pulse. There's nothing. His eyes are half-open, staring. I slide my fingers across the lids to close them. Rage and sorrow are battling inside me, but I'd rather get revenge than cry.

Gently, I lay John's body in the moss before I take off towards Demegov. He doesn't try to avoid me. I slam him against the tree, pull him away and bash him against it again.

"Damn you!"

Heat spreads down my stone arm and the crevices start to glow. I throw Demegov across the cave, enjoying the way he slides across the ground. I can hear HIM in the back of my skull.

Let me out.

Let Me Out.

LET ME OUT.

I clasp my hands over my ears and scream, "Shut up!"

Demegov gets to his feet, barking with laughter. I want to make him into a fleshy pulp. I charge him, yelling. Again, he doesn't avoid my attack. My stone fist makes solid contact with his chest and he flies into a tree. As his blood hits the roots, the tree starts dying. The bark crumbles off when he leans on it and the leaves start dropping. They turn into ash before they reach the ground. Demegov keeps laughing.

I grab his shirt and pin him against the trunk. I can feel my horns lengthening, but I haven't lost myself yet. I don't want HIM to kill Demegov, I want to. He's mine.

"And when he opened the Abyss, smoke rose from it like the smoke from a furnace and the sky and the sun were blocked and darkness fell upon the earth," Demegov says with a smile, his eyes gleaming green.

I pull back my stone fist for the final blow.

"Stop!"

The voice is so loud that I have to cover my ears. It's like a thousand people talking at the same time, but in such perfect unison that you can't separate them. I've never heard anything like it.

Demegov's face gets pale and his eyes go wide. I follow his gaze just as painfully bright light breaks through the roof. A shadow cuts into the light, descending slowly. I shield my eyes and make out the shape of massive wings.

The angel lands a few paces away. He doesn't look intimidating, but I can feel the power coming off him. He's muscular, smaller than I am and has blonde hair that falls in curls down his shoulders. His right hand is made of stone. It's the same shape as mine, made out of what looks like white marble. I look down at my hand, then over at his. It's no mistaking that he has the same key, but mine looks a bit like a cheap copy next to his.

Everybody I've encountered that knows anything about my arm thinks it's my job to open the door, but I think it might be his. His arm actually looks like it's part of him, not just something tacked on as an afterthought. After all, if you're going to make a prison to keep demons in, you usually don't give an inmate the key.

"I am Michael," he speaks in fewer voices now, his eyes burning into me like coals. I get the feeling that there's not hiding much from this guy. He stares at me as if he's peeling my flesh back to look at my soul. "You cannot kill him, son of the Witch King. He has a purpose yet."

Behind me, Demegov is cowering. I could just hand him over and not make any trouble for myself with Heaven (since I've got enough enemies on earth), but there's just no fucking way I'm going to let this go. I look over at John's still form and grit my teeth.

"No, I'm killing him. You just stay out of my way," I tell Michael, pointing a stone finger at him.

"Your need for revenge will not be forgotten. After he delivers his plagues upon the earth, you may have him."

I blink, "What?"

Hoof beats roll through the garden like thunder. I spin on my heel, looking for the animals. There's nothing out there, but the sound keeps getting louder. What the hell is going on?

"No!" Demegov shouts. "No, I'll have my war! I won't wait any longer!"

He takes off running as the air itself seems to tear open and four gigantic horses gallop after him. I dart in front of the stampede and pull John out of the way, falling back with him on my legs. Lazarus gets up and scurries out of the way as well. Good to know that he's still alive, but it doesn't surprise me much. He runs towards the entrance of Eden, probably to check on the others. I can only stare as the horses rapidly catch up to Demegov.

Three of the horses have riders. The first is a white animal with a skeleton on its back, the second is so thin that every bone shows through its skin and its rider is a veiled woman with a pair of scales. The third horse is bright red, its rider geared in everything from a German gas mask to a medieval sword to the patched together uniforms of various armies.

The last horse is wild-eyed and covered in boils and sores. It runs ahead of the others and its mane shoots out in tendrils to wrap around Demegov's legs and arms. He yells, "It must begin now, the humans are ripe with sin," as the horse pulls him in, his fingers leaving trails in the dirt behind him. The other riders come forward and the one mounted on the red warhorse reaches down to yank Demegov into the animal's saddle. The horses scream and whiney as they turn and sprint back through the rip in, I don't know, our plane of existence? It seals up the moment they're gone.

"Holy shit," is all I can think to say.

Michael scolds me for it, his wings fluffing up in annoyance, "I am not sure where that distasteful phrase came from, but you will not say it in my presence."

"Sorry," I mumble.

Michael looks at me… No, he's looking past me, just over my shoulder. He tilts his head slightly and says in one voice, "Your pair lingers."

He's alive? I stroke John's face, but he doesn't move. "Boyscout? Baby?"

"Not his mortal flesh, his soul," Michael tells me as he goes to the tree of knowledge. Now that it's quiet in the garden, I can hear screams coming through the door. Some are human; others are more like animal howls. Michael places his carved hand on the surface, his wings twitching and flaring as the tree's bark crawls back into place. When the Hell Gate is gone, he turns back to me, "Your pair's soul is lingering. He does not seem willing to cross over."

I dig through my pockets for my spirit stone, a small triangular rock with a natural hole in the middle, but I can't find it. It probably fell out in the Tigris along with a number of other irreplaceable trinkets. I decide to take the archangel's word for it. I don't think they can lie anyway.

"Is there a way to put him back in his-"

"No," Michael interrupts me, "His body would decompose around him."

I wince at the idea, clutching John tightly. I pull him up to hug him. His head rolls on my shoulder. I rake my mind for ideas, a way to keep John here with me. There are a number of ways to bind a soul to earth, but nothing I would do to John. Some part of me knows I should let him go… I tell that part to go to hell.

"John, damn it," I whisper hoarsely, squeezing him. I stroke his hair and press my lips to the side of his neck.

"You have served mankind loyally for decades, son of the Witch King," Michael comments.

I resist the urge to gripe at him for the title he's given me. My father was Trevor Bruttenholm, a man, not some shadowy dark lord from hell. Resisting doesn't work. "It's Hellboy," I snarl.

"You may not be destined to unlock the gates of Hell, as your father was hoping, but you will kill Lucifer in his bed and lead the dark army against Heaven."

I'm so fucking sick of people telling me what I'm going to do. There's always some goddamn prophecy that I'm expected to fulfill when all I want is to be left in fucking peace. I let John go to grab my horns, pulling down on them. Pain shoots through my skull as the horns crack and I snap them off. I throw them aside, glaring at Michael, "No, I won't. I'm gonna' be standing between hell and all the innocent people here on earth. And if you assholes want to get in my way, then I'll fight you too."

Michael smiles, but it looks unnatural on him. "Good," he says, reaching into the air to catch something I can't see. He holds it delicately with his marble hand. "As much as I do not approve of your homosexual pairing with John Thaddeus Myers, his return would be an acceptable reward for your loyalty. If that is what you want."

"But you said-"

"He cannot be returned to his old body, but a new one will suffice."

I press down on my excitement. There has to be a catch to this. Nobody just hands over a resurrected lover because they feel like it's the right thing to do, right? "You can make him just the way he was?"

"He will have all of his memories and experiences intact, if that is what you are asking," he says.

I narrow my eyes. As much as I want to know what I'm getting myself into, I need John. If he wants the key off my arm or something like that, then so be it. I card my fingers through John's gray-flecked hair, "And he'd be immortal?"

"He will be. One of the most foolish decisions a celestial being can make is pairing with a mortal. Watching a lover die of age is not something I would wish on another."

Something in his voice makes me look up. Michael's eyes aren't burning anymore, they're deep blue and staring off across the garden. He's talking from experience. I don't ask. I'm sure it's not something he'd want to share anyway.

I want to trust him…

I kiss John's forehead and nod, "Alright."

John's body gets lighter. I furrow my brow, confused. As I watch, he fades into smoke and dissipates like fog when the sun hits it. My heart hammers in my ribcage. I know it's Michael's doing, but John is just gone. I stand up and try to stifle the strange and sudden fear.

Michael lifts his wings, flexing them fully. They stretch out at least eight or nine feet on either side of him. He moves his hands in front of him, holding them out with the palms up. What he'd been holding was John's soul. I can see it now, but just barely. The wispy lines of his face seem to smile at me.

Small pinpoints of light gather against the soul until it looks like Michael is holding a lighthouse in his hands. The shape fills out and a figure is standing in Michael's palms. The brilliant glow starts to fade into skin, really pale skin. His flesh is flawless. The scars I know by heart are gone.

John's features form. The soft, boyish curve of his face is exactly the way it was when I met him. I step forward, holding my arms out as Michael finishes John. He sorta' floats into my grasp, lighter than he was before. I slide my flesh hand down his back, bracing my stone hand against his hips. His skin is soft. Michael backs away as I survey my lover.

"He's blonde," I mention and Michael shrugs.

"I am not a creator. I did what I could."

As long as he's still Boyscout, I don't really give a shit what color his hair is, but it's going to take some getting used to. John squirms against me and murmurs, "I'm okay." He sits back, a little more coherent, and rubs at his eyes, "Jeez, remind me never to bite another angel."

When he looks at me, he gives me the half grin I'm more than familiar with. It's the 'I know I'm in trouble, but I'm too cute for you to do anything about it' grin. His eyes are bright blue now.

I crash my mouth into his and slip my tongue past his open lips. John winds his arms around my neck, his tongue fighting with mine. After a second, he pushes at my chest.

He barely breaks away enough to groan, "I just threw up, HB, I don't think you want to kiss me."

He doesn't know. I look back at Michael, who shakes his head.

"He will not remember being dead."

Boyscout jumps slightly in my arms, craning his head over his shoulder to peer at Michael. "Who are… I was dead?"

I'm surprised he hasn't noticed he's naked yet. Normally, John's list of priorities starts with modesty then moves on to curiosity. At least there's no one else to see him but the angel. I do distinctly remember Adam and Eve not having a problem being naked in celestial presence until they ate from the tree. I doubt Michael thinks much of nudity. If he did, he would have made John with clothes.

Michael ignores 'Scout's question and opens his wings, "We will return when it is time for his purpose to be fulfilled."

"What? What purpose?" I knew there was a fucking catch! I set Boyscout on his feet and move towards Michael, but he vaults into the air before I can reach him. He's gone in seconds. I shout after him, "I thought this was between you and me, you asshole!"

"Hellboy, what's going on?" John asks quietly.

I turn to him and press my lips together. I consider keeping it from him. Being dead, even if you do come back, can be a pretty terrifying thing. I can't speak from any experience, but I know Liz used to have nightmares about it. (She set our room on fire more than once when we were dating).

Something crunches and John pitches forward with a scream. I catch him right before he hits the ground. "John?" I ask as he clutches my arms. I sit down and lay him across my lap, not sure what's going on.

"My back," he says between gritted teeth.

I slip my arm around his middle and lift him. There are two dark bruises near his shoulder blades. I brush a finger against one and he convulses with a muffled shout.

"Don't touch it."

His skin bulges and I realize what's going on. Michael didn't make John just the way he was. He's not a werewolf anymore, he's something else. John buries his face in my shoulder as a pair of white wings rip out of his back. They're not as large as Michael's wings, but the term 'created in his image' comes to mind.

John pants softly, his breath ghosting across my neck. I hold him while the pain passes. I don't think I can hide the truth from him, it's pretty obvious something happened.

"You died, John. What the hell were you thinking biting him? If he spreads disease…" I'm not sure whether I want to yell at him or fuck him senseless.

"I didn't want him to use me to get to you," John says against my shirt. He sits back and drapes his arms over my shoulders. "He knew that killing me would make you into Anung un Rama and I didn't… I couldn't…" He sighs and puts his forehead to mine. "What am I now?"

"The wings are a big clue," I mention, separating his feathers and touching the hot flesh beneath them.

I may as well have been stroking his dick for the reaction I get. 'Scout arches against me, his eyes rolling back in his head as he moans. I can feel him getting hard. His wings must be really damn sensitive… Oh, I'm going to love this.

I grin and slide my fingers through his feathers, following the line of delicate bone I can feel through his skin. John writhes in my lap. He goes for my belt and yanks it open. He fumbles with the button on my pants.

"I… Oh god, HB…"

"You wanna' do it here?" I ask, smiling. If I can reduce him to being so aroused that he wants to do it anywhere but the privacy of home, I'm going to take advantage of it every chance I get.

In response, John locks his mouth with mine. It's a messy kiss with a lot of wet sounds. He bites my lips and tongue while I finish undoing my pants. His hand delves in as soon as they're open and wraps around my dick. His palm is perfectly smooth, not a single callus to give it texture. Everything about him is new, but familiar.

Shit… he'll essentially be a virgin. If his body is new, then he won't be used to having me in him. We'll need a lot of lube and patience I don't really have right now.

"Boyscout, hold up," I try to disengage from him, but he's making it difficult. John continues to caress me and it takes me a second to remember what I was going to tell him. "We should wait until we get home."

"I need this, Red," 'Scout pants against my mouth.

The words go straight to my dick. I can't wait. I want to, but I can't. I'll just have to be careful.

I rip off my shirt and try to shimmy out of my pants with John hanging on me. He pushes at them, but isn't entirely helpful. I get them to my knees and decide that it's good enough. 'Scout apparently thinks the same because he's grabbed my flesh hand and is slicking my index and middle fingers with spit. He runs his tongue across my knuckles and throws a look at me through his eyelashes. It's about the sexiest damn thing I've seen.

'Scout puts a knee on either side of my hips, leaning in to kiss me. I slide a finger into him without much warning and all of his muscles tighten. His little cry of pain lances me with guilt. I take a deep breath and try to get a hold of myself.

"You still sure about-"

"Just give me a second," he breathes.

I count to ten in my head, something Abe taught me once that I never used until now. Weird, but it helps. I wriggle my finger a little in John's ass, feeling for the spot that makes him crazy. His grimace starts melting, but I hold off on adding another finger.

His wings… his wings are the greatest way to distract him. I don't know why I didn't think of it earlier. I slowly slide my stone hand along the outside of his wing and push another finger into him. He doesn't complain, so I guess it works. His head drops into the crook of my shoulder as he trembles.

My dick aches. Taking things this slowly is almost unbearable, but I'd rather lose my left nut than hurt him. I make sure he's thoroughly stretched before we move on. Spitting into my hand, I slick myself up and lay 'Scout on the moss. His wings stretch out beneath us. I worry about him being uncomfortable on his back, but it doesn't seem to bother him any. 'Scout stares at me, his arms held out with an obvious invitation. I accept it gladly.

This isn't fucking or sex really. I'd poke fun at 'Scout when he called sex 'making love', but this is much closer to his words. I force myself to be gentle, to take things slow. I work my way into him like a snail, mindful of every twitch and noise he makes. He's so much tighter than I ever remember him being. His muscles clamp down on me and I have to bite my lip to keep from slamming the rest of the way in.

I swear it takes me an hour to get inside him. I know it was nowhere close to that, maybe a minute or two, but that's a long damn time when you're as horny as I am. John and I let our tongues fight while he adjusts to me. I break away, locking eyes with him as I pull out. He shoves his hips against me when I thrust back in.

"Come on, Red," John encourages me with a smirk.

Maybe he didn't need as much patience as I thought. I lift his hips and start our normal pace, slamming into him. He winces for the first thrust or two, but eventually becomes his old self. He growls and drags his nails across my back. They're not nearly as sharp as his claws, but there's still that slight edge of pain that I love.

I fuck him hard, leaving bruises on his hips where I'm gripping him. I continue to drive on through his first and second orgasm even though it feels like he's going to squeeze my dick in half. My orgasm starts curling and heating and I rake my flesh fingers through his wings to bring him off again. This time I follow, both of us screaming at the top of our lungs. Wave after wave of pleasure hits me until there's nothing left.

John lets his hands wander over my back and neck while I catch my breath. I stay propped up on my elbows so I don't squash him. When I find the energy, I pull out of him and roll so he's lying on my chest. His wings flare a little before settling on either side of us. I'm starting to think those things are a bit like my tail, not something you think about until you need it. They seem to react to his emotion.

"That was incredible," 'Scout murmurs. He's getting sleepy.

I kick off my boots and try to work my way out of my pants. When John grumbles at me, I stop. The rest of the crew is probably sitting outside, waiting to find out if everything's alright. Instead of sleeping in the garden, we should join them, but I don't want to move just yet.

"John?"

He shifts and sits up enough to meet my gaze, "Yeah?"

"What would you think about retiring from the Bureau?" I ask. Sure, it's blunt, but you don't get too many second chances. I'm not going to look the gift horse in the mouth on this one.

He raises one eyebrow, annoyed, "Just me?"

"No, both of us."

John's silent a long time. He's weighing his options. "Would you be okay with that?" he finally questions.

I still don't know the answer. I might go insane without something substantial to do. All I've ever done is fight what the Bureau told me to fight, I've never known anything else. But I can't lose John again. It hurt enough the first time.

"Yeah, I think I will be," I say.

A slow, sexy smile spreads across John's face, "Then we could give it a try."

I relax and realize how stressed I've been for the past few days. It's like letting out a breath I didn't know I was holding. All of a sudden, the whole world has righted itself. I kiss the top of John's blonde head and squeeze him softly.

Something occurs to me as I'm drifting off, "Oh yeah, happy birthday Boyscout."

He groans, "Don't remind me."

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

End… for now.

Yes, that is actually the end of this one. I've set it up for the third one, which will be called Lines of Darkness and Light. I'm going to try and finish up a few straggling stories in other genres before I come back to it, so be patient.

Otherwise, I hope ya'll enjoyed Between the Lines and a big Thank You to all of those who left comments for me. They're my drive to keep writing.
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Between the Lines: Sequel to Somewhere Between