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Red

"RAAAAARRGHHH!"

Lee comes at me--a blur of cobalt blue fur and white fists, his eyes red and trailing crimson vapors. My heart quivers. My legs quiver. My arms shudder as I somehow get my paws up in time to block his furious punches. The blows rattle the bones in my arms, but, other than blocking, I can't move. He just snarls and fires away and I take the hits because I can and I don't want to hit him.

I can't hurt him.

His form seems to vibrate. The darkness around him seems to smolder. I clench my eyes, my chest sparking pain and feeling as though my heart was about to burst.

"YOU WEREN'T THERE! YOU LET HIM GET HURT," he bellows in a voice that's not his own.

Those words--that truth--hits me harder than his fists.

The growling, churning, earth shattering voice that isn't his barks and the ragged pine trees surrounding us snap and burn. The smoke curls around us and chokes its way down my throat, leaving me unable to scream as I stand in horror and Lee bursts into red flames. The fire devours him. His fur and flesh, muscle and bone, vaporize into a black, light devouring behemoth that stretches upward and towers over me. I back away. My entire body begs for me to run. But I can't. My very soul knows what's going to happen, and it's ripping itself apart while I squirm and scream and stare up into shadow Lee's burning-black face. That's all there is. Inky black encompassed by orange fire.

Then the fire dies, and his monstrous form disappears in the darkness.

I know he's still there. The very air is rippling because of his tainted presence. The earth cries, and I know he's coming toward me. Then those red eyes glare high above me like two dying stars; the blackness parts beneath them and white fangs glisten like curving comet tails.

"You stole him. You hurt him. You don't deserve him."

He repeats that over and over, and each time I feel myself sinking lower and lower to the ground. Or maybe he's getting bigger.

"You're pathetic," the Lee behemoth growls. "I. Hate. You."

Tears sear down my face like acid and burn away the fur and carve fevered trenches into my flesh, eating me alive. But I don't die. I can only cry and crumble beneath his sky-sundering anger.

"I hate you," he moans again.

There's a weight on me--my leg. It pops. I scream. My face--I feel it falling away. My bare, bloodied cheekbones grow cold in the night air still shuddering frightfully. Those red eyes squint. My body is wrenched sideways. There's a hollow, meaty crunch, and my sight flashes crimson. I collapse. He tore it off--my leg. Blood's gushing out. I can't stop it. It's like a broken faucet. I clasp my paws over the ragged flesh and jagged bone, but it keeps spurting out my red essence.

"Lee!" I scream, reaching helplessly toward him/not him. It's all I can manage to say. It's all I can do. "Lee...Lee.........Lee......................"

I sputtered and awoke pawing at my face. For a moment I thought I was still there--in the dream. My chest rattled as I gingerly probed my still fleshed and furred cheeks. My eyes were wide and stinging as I glanced quickly to my leg...which was still there, albeit wrapped in gauze and strapped into a brace. My ears fluttered as my nerves begin to calm, but my stomach was still tied into a knot. I shifted uncomfortably on my bed, my tail and rump pinching sorely.

There was a groan, and I nearly tumbled from the covers as there was suddenly a paw on my chest. The white-furred fingers stroked gently across my ribs, and I sighed in relief.

"Mmmpmhh...You alright?"

Sasha.

My cheeks flushed at the sight and realization that he was in my bed.

"Where'd you come from?" I mumbled, banishing my foul, groggy mood and flashing a quick smile as he scratched his head and ruffled his disheveled hair.

He shrugged and his bushy tail flopped across my ankles. "I took care of some things after leaving the hospital," he mumbled sleepily. "Then I came straight here all excited and--low and behold--you were out cold."

Shit. I'd lain down after taking my pain pills around five o'clock--which promptly knocked me out. I glanced at the ticking thing on my wall to see it was half past seven. I'd been dead to the world for a while.

I rumbled a laugh. "Sorry..."

"No, no! You're fine," he said. "I was tired, too, and..." His paw stroked up my chest, the sensual touch tingling across my skin, and then he rubbed my cheek. "I just felt like lying down with you. This was nice. But..." He frowned a little, his ears falling. "You okay?"

I chuckled as his grey, almond eyes suddenly squinted tight and his prim muzzle parted in a wide, wide yawn; that pink tongue curled before he snapped his jaws shut and licked his lips.

I nodded, feeling groggy. "Y...yeah. It was just a..."

"I know, Bo," he said soothingly, smile softening.

The nightmare wasn't anything new. Although, this was the first instance where Sasha had been witness to it and seen the rough, puffy-eyed aftermath.

My skin crawled as the images from the dream flashed before my eyes. Lee...that monster he became...I couldn't help but feel that all of the anger represented by him in my unconscious state was...well, how he really felt...on the inside. The side of him from the Haunt--in the woods when he'd attacked me--I never expected it. He'd been keeping it bottled up and I--ironically--pushed him over the edge. The anger overwhelmed him and burst free of its own accord.

Why had I been so oblivious? So stupid?

Sasha squirmed and drew closer to me, his body tantalizingly warm, and then he laid his head down next to mine. His hot breaths tickled against my cheek fur and made my right ear flick. "You were yelling his name again," he whispered. "Lee."

A growl rumbled up from my chest, and I felt a sudden flush of awkwardness overtake me. My leg pinched and an itch broke out. I grunted and reached down to give it a quick scratch before leaning back and seeing how Sasha was staring worriedly at me.

All I could think to do was apologize. Why? I guess I just didn't like mentioning Lee--or even thinking­ about the Australian Shepherd--while Sasha was with me. I knew how sensitive he was about all our twined situations; I knew he was still upset. Hell, I was still upset...obviously.

Still, I didn't want to talk about the nightmare.

"You're really warm," I said in an attempt to change the subject. "It feels good."

Sasha smirked, blushing softly and wiggling his tail. "I'm glad you approve."

"I do," I said. My brow furrowed, though, as I eyed the spot on the left side of my bed where he'd been lying. "But why were you so...far away?"

He chuckled. "I didn't want to wake you up. You're really adorable when you're sleeping, and you know how I like to cuddle." He smiled seductively. "I had to resist the urge."

"Heh," I chuckled, blushing. I moaned pleasantly as he pressed his body up against mine and nuzzled the fur of my neck. A cuddle-monster, he was. Not that I ever complained about it. I enjoyed it, too.

"That," he added. "And I didn't want to accidentally hit your leg or something."

A flash of pain in the aforementioned limb made me grimace. "I appreciate that."

"I figured you would."

Again, he nuzzled my neck, squeezing me softly. I wrapped my own arms around him and pulled him closer. I could never get enough of the beautiful boy.

His natural, brisk scent filled my nostrils and made my nose twitch appreciatively; I felt his heart thumping softly within his chest pressed against my side, his breaths slipping gently from that button nose--whistling a little, which made me grin. I just relished in all he was and all I loved about him, resting my chin atop his head and taking a deep breath. I could hold him--be with him--like this forever. No matter the troubles, no matter the nightmares--the fears--Sasha always made me feel that things would get better.

"So," I said. His head turned slightly beneath my chin and an ear flicked against my lips. "What 'business' did you have to take care of? Everything alright?"

He moaned a little; I felt it quiver in his chest before he shifted, sliding down and laying his head on my stomach so he could watch my face while still using me as a living pillow. His eyes were wide. Excitement? Maybe. He'd said something along those lines. But he was frowning. I couldn't read him. Something about his expression was throwing off mixed emotions.

"Uh-oh," was all I could think to say.

"No 'uh-oh,'" he said quickly as if to deter me from thinking bad things had happened.

My tail twitched, the curl of it flicking off of the side of the bed. "I'm definitely picking up the 'uh-oh' vibe from you, babe."

A quirky grin slipped across his muzzle at my affectionate moniker for him, his cheek pressed against my belly warming as he blushed. I liked calling him "babe." And he liked it, too.

"Well, there's a little 'uh-oh.'"

I moaned overdramatically. "I knew it."

"Shut up," he chuckled.

His head bobbed as my belly bounced with laughter. "What's up, then?" I asked, shifting my recovering leg and wincing a bit at the slight pain that followed.

That bushy tail of his flicked elegantly as he smirked; his eyes widened and his brow buckled as though he was in disbelief of something. "Mindy made me track captain for the new season."

Well, that definitely wasn't the "uh-oh" kind of news I was expecting. It was quite the opposite.

"Hey!" I exclaimed. "Congratulations! That's fantastic!" I gave his cheek a pleasant stroke out of giddiness, and he smiled as I chuffed softly and winked at him. "You must take after me, El Capitan."

"Heh, yeah" he simply huffed. Then his eyes clenched shut and he bit his lip. "Oh man..."

His sudden shift in attitude made me uneasy. I felt his jaw clenching as his head was still perched on my stomach.

I flicked my ears at him as if trying to tune into what he was thinking. "What? What is it?"

He peered anxiously at me. "The 'uh-oh.'"

My throat bulged as I swallowed hard. He didn't seem happy.

"Well?" I asked gently.

"Uhm..." His tail twitched. I grimaced. His elegant appendage could cue me into his feelings just as easily as his face. The tail twitch was bad--never a good thing: it meant he was either aggravated...or scared.

"Come on, Sash."

He frowned and his ears shot backward. "I'm getting there! It's just..." His brow knit together and his eyes rolled about nervously. "It's just I know you're going to...flip out."

Oh crap. I guess my face pinched or my nostrils flared or my muzzle twitched, because his eyes widened in realization that him simply insinuating that I would "flip out" would indeed make me think the worst right off the bat. Was it Lee? Was something going on behind my back?

"Sasha," I said flatly, trying to keep the growl burgeoning in my chest from slipping out. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

His mouth moved open and shut in an "O" shape for a few seconds, reminding me of a fish drowning in the open air. "I....uh...well..."

"Sasha!"

"Okay!" he squeaked. "I'm playing in the football game next Friday!"

When he finished talking he immediately covered his face as if expecting me to suddenly explode like a live grenade.

And I could have...if I'd heard him correctly. My stomach was in the process of collapsing in on itself when I asked him if I had indeed heard him say "I'm playing in the football game next Friday."

He nodded. It was an agonizingly slow and pained gesture. He frowned and spoke through gritted, pearly teeth. "Yeeeeaaaaah..."

Oh...oh HELL'NAH...

* * * * * *

"Red!"

"I cannot BELIEVE you said yes! I can't!"

"Red, stop! You're going to fall!"

"I mean, you could have at least thought about it! Maybe run it by me first!?"

"Red..."

"You've no idea what you've gotten yourself into! You've pretty much committed suicide!"

I heard him stomp his feet behind me and groan angrily. "Rudy Carlin Kendrick! Stop crutching away from me RIGHT NOW, or I swear to God..."

Biting the inside of my cheek, I paused and wavered on my crutches, turning stiffly and staring at him standing rigid with clenched fists and a clenched glare. I whimpered sourly as his tail twitched about behind him. The crutch-pads squashed into my armpits pinched as I tensed...and kept going down the hall.

My ears flicked backward and caught his gasp of disbelief. "Rudy!"

"No, Sasha!" I growled. My chest tightened and my gut squirmed. My crutches and one good foot clacked and thumped sharply against the wooden floors. My leg thrummed with pain, but I didn't care. I was too...upset. "I am not okay with this," I seethed. "I...how..." To my chagrin, I stopped, but it was only to turn and shoot him an icy, confused look. "How could you be so stupid, Sash!?"

As angry as I was, I instantly regretted asking such a bitter question. He flinched at my words, a pang of sorrow glinting in his eyes before they turned hard and he scowled.

"It's one game, Red. That's all."

I snuffed and rolled my eyes. "Is it? Really?" I squinted at him and hoped he'd understand where I was coming from. "Is that all it is?"

Of course, he didn't get it. I didn't know why I thought he would.

"What are you insinuating? What do you think's going on?"

The taste of coppery blood filled my mouth as I bit down hard on my lip. I closed my eyes briefly and saw us all at the Haunt again--Me, Sasha...Lee...Aaron, Trip, and...

Ford.

Ford...that damned bear who, after my injury, miraculously stepped up unopposed to take over my duty as football captain; Ford, who'd hated me from the very beginning and wanted me gone; Ford, who'd known about me and Sasha; Ford, who'd all but threatened me--and who would've fought me if...if Lee...

This was no coincidence; I knew it couldn't be. Ford was a total bastard in every way, and he would not just let Sasha onto the football team--even for one game--if he didn't have something planned...something that involved hurting the arctic fox--my boyfriend...as a way to get back at me. He was just that sick. I'd seen him barrel like a semi into guys three times smaller than him without any reserve...breaking their bones...and then laughing about it later. Like pour Aaron.

I softened my expression to Sasha. I wasn't angry at him--not really.

"Sash, I..."

"Baby? You alright? I thought you were asleep? The guestroom bed stiff or something?"

My father wheeled out of the living room a bit to stare at both Sasha and me with his ears perked. His crimson tail was limp.

"You still call him 'baby," Luther?"

Dad rolled his eyes and grinned, his thick arms tensing as he shrugged and flicked his gaze back toward the living room.

"Yes, Asher, I still call him 'baby.'"

"Honey?"

Enter my easily on-edge mother...but, no, she was smiling. She came from the kitchen, though. Her silver-blue fur was whiter than usual. She shook, though, and flour puffed from her in a sinking cloud. She was baking...again. She did that when she was upset...or--occasionally--drunk. We had a lot of sweets as of late. Was the fridge low on the sauce, too?

I both tensed and smiled, then, as the familiar mug of Asher Crowley peaked out of the den--just his head, seemingly floating in midair. His black mop of feathery hair shifted as he turned toward Sasha and me, ears perking. "Hey, you two," he beamed. "Doing alright, Rudy?"

I nodded mechanically. I loved Asher like an uncle, but the black and white wolf/husky being here could mean only one of two things depending on--weirdly enough--how he was dressed; Civilian clothes--he was having beers with my dad and relaxing and being a normal guy; Uniform--he was here being a detective and in business mode only. I couldn't see what he was wearing, and that made me uneasy.

"Sasha," my mother chirped, her tail wagging hopefully. "Everything okay?"

They had to have heard us yelling. They had to be able to see how tense the both of us were.

"Uh, well," Sasha mumbled under his breath.

I didn't even turn around. I was still focused on trying to determine what Asher was doing at my house. He disappeared back into the living room, though, and then came back into the hallway draining a bottle of Heineken. The light from the hallway cast a green sheen over his face as it passed through the emerald bottle. I relaxed. He was in sneakers, jeans, and a Georgia Bulldogs tee shirt--casual Asher. Not detective Crowley. He was off the clock.

"Mind if I get another?" he pleaded to my father, waggling his sad, empty bottle between his fingers while his tail bobbed limply behind him.

Dad smirked and shook his head. "My booze is your booze," he said. Asher grinned and slipped past my mother who--to my horror--bared a feral smile and smacked him straight on his taut ass. The wusky yelped and picked up some speed, and my dad just laughed as he caught the paw print my mom's floured hand left on Asher's dark jeans. "Bring me one too while you're at it, stud-muffin," my dad called after him.

My mouth fell open. What the fuck? Sasha snickered a little behind me.

There was a chipper "Mmkay" from the kitchen.

"And don't you dare take a sip of my mojito!" my mother barked, her tail curling up her back as she tugged on her Gamecocks shirt and wiped her paws off on her...sweat pants? Why was my mother in sweat pants? I stared oddly at her and my father for a moment. They both seemed..._glowy..._a little too...even-tempered and out of their usual character.

Sasha's curiosity got the better of him, and I felt his presence as he came to stand next to me. He leaned over and whispered, my left ear swiveling to catch his faint words. "Are they...uh..."

I shrugged. "Are you all drunk?" I asked, going the direct route.

"Nooooooooooooo," my mother cooed in an obvious "I'm not trying to hide the fact that I'm tipsy" tone. She then gave a precious, unexpected hiccup and covered her mouth giggling.

"Oh my God," I groaned, my head lolling forward.

"I'm just mellowed out," my father said, trying to be reassuring. He then gestured toward my mom who was gliding back toward the kitchen, her tail waving lazily. "She's just never been able to hold her liquor."

There was another yelp from the kitchen, and Asher darted back into the hallway with two bottles in his left hand, gently rubbing his butt with his right. "Ouch!" He then winked and stroked the top of my dad's head. "Control your wife, lover."

"Yes, lover," my father replied cheekily, batting his lashes.

What. The. Fuck.

My mind was dead--blown. My tongue had dried out because I'd failed to rehinge my jaw and close my gaping mouth.

"Wow," Sasha chirped. He then beamed at me, obviously attempting to keep encroaching laughter at bay. "This is great."

No it wasn't. I instantly forgot that I was upset with my boyfriend. "Something's up. They never get hammered unless something bad has happened."

"I think they're just watching football on TV," Sasha said brightly. "ESPN was on when I got here. I think USC is playing against Georgia."

"Oh," I uttered, relieved a bit. Asher's Bulldogs shirt made more sense, as did my mom's choice in frat-boy attire.

I was overreacting.

"Now," Sasha said flatly, crossing his arms. "Are we going to have a civil discussion about...earlier? Or should I go home and let you calm down? Get some more rest?"

I didn't want him to leave. "No, I...don't go."

A warm smile crossed his tantalizing lips and he drew closer to me. "Yes, lover."

I shuddered, thinking about the heated bromance between my dad and Asher. "Oh, God."

Sasha just giggled and patted the side of my face. "Hey, there's nothing wrong with guys loving guys."

"But...but," I stammered, completely aghast. "He's my father!?"

There was a chorus of WHOOOO's and OHHHYEAAAAH's from the living room, and Sasha and I snickered as my mother--wide eyed and babbling "WHATWHATWHAT"--wobbled quickly out of the kitchen to see how the game was progressing.

Then there was a phone ringing. The crackle of a two-way broke over the sound of the television as my dad turned the volume down. I froze. Sasha froze.

"Crowley--over."

There was faint mumbling, some "uh-huh's" and the fuzzy, indecipherable cop-talk from the radio.

Silence.

I hobbled forward with Sasha, peering into the living room where my mother stood gaping, my father sat motionless, and Crowley stared forlornly into the two-way he held in his paw.

My pelt turned to ice. What possibly could have happened now?

"What...what's going on?" I asked, my voice shaky.

Crowley rubbed the back of his head and stared at the floor. "Uh...there's...there's been an accident."

Sasha latched onto my paw for some reason. I guess, like me--especially after all of the shit that's happened--he thought it was something to do with us. I squeezed his fingers gently.

"What..."

My dad let a quivering sigh escape him. "I can't believe this."

Mom shook her head slowly--back and forth, back and forth. "Poor Lee..."

Sasha tensed and gasped. His grasp tightened and popped some ligaments in my hand. The room was spinning. I nearly fell over.

Asher cleared his throat and began to rummage through a backpack next to the couch. "Goddammit," he growled, his fur hackling. "I've got to go and..." He tugged out black pants and a shirt, a belt. "...change. Shit."

What about Lee? What about Lee!? I couldn't form the question. My tongue, my lips, they were lifeless and limp.

The two-way crackled again. There were more code words and things I didn't understand. Crowley hissed. The cop on the other end stopped talking, waiting on a reply.

"I'll meet him there--over," the detective growled. Then he dropped his paw, shook his head, and answered no one in particular. "The coroner."