Date: Thu, 13 May 2010 09:37:36 -0600
From: Katya_Dee <concertoind@gmail.com>
Subject: The Year of the Salamander, chapter 21

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All the resemblances are completely
coincidental. All the characters, situations, and everything else in the
story is owned by myself beloved. Contains descriptive sexual scenes between
males. If you are not supposed to read it, do not read it! Feel free to
e-mail me.

   This is a sequel to Specter' Gamble
</nifty/gay/sf-fantasy/specters-gamble/>.  You don't have to read the first
one in order to get this one, but it would make it easier to understand the
characters in this story.



- XXI -

Gabriel almost said something several times about Desmond's driving, but he
would bite his tongue right before he opened his mouth. Desmond's jaw was
locked very tightly right then, and Rayhe was quite positive that he *would
*throw him out of the car if he said something. Not when it was moving, of
course, but still... He had no desire to end up on the side of the road in
the middle of nowhere, under that blasted rain.

Finally, after two hours or so, Desmond's jaw relaxed somewhat, and Gabriel
let out a small, relieved sigh.

"What were you muttering about the fire guy?" he asked carefully, and
Desmond shot him a quick glance.

"A month ago," he said unwillingly. "On the day when Tess told me about the
sacrifice... I went for a drive and ran out of gas..."

"Yeah," Gabriel nodded with a small frown. "I remember. You never said what
happened that night."

"I got stuck in some dead-end street," Desmond's eyes were fixed on the road
in front of him. "Then some car pulled in... At first, I thought it was
someone who would actually help. Turned out to be two asswipes who started
blabbering some shit... I thought they mistaken me for someone else, but
then one of them mentioned the fact that some `blond shit' broke his nose on
Saturday night after he was trying to `help out' with the tire problem..."

"Tire problem...?" Gabriel frowned deeper. "Hold on... Didn't Sam say that
your tire blew that one night?"

"Uh huh," Desmond said darkly. "I knew right then that the assholes did
something to him..."

"Desmond," Gabriel said very calmly. "Did they..."

"No," Desmond interrupted him. "That's what I thought, but then the asswipe
said that some `fire guy' showed up..."

"And you believed him?" Rayhe asked in the same very calm voice.

"Yeah," Desmond nodded shortly. "He wasn't lying. I know that not just
because I can fucking sense lies, but also because it is very easy to speak
the truth when you have a key shoved in your ear..."

"Go on," Rayhe nodded after a few seconds. Now he sounded convinced.

"Well, that damn fire guy apparently burned their asses," Desmond continued.
"So when they saw my car, they figured they could get their revenge. Sam
broke one dick's nose and knocked out a couple of teeth from the other
one..."

"What did you do with the bodies?" Gabriel asked in the same calm manner.

"I didn't kill them," Desmond said evenly without taking his eyes off the
road.

"You didn't?" Now Rayhe sounded thoughtful. "Why?"

"Because Sam never told either one of us about the incident," Desmond
reached for the cigarettes.

"Just drive," Rayhe grabbed the pack and pulled out a cigarette. He lit it
and handed it to Desmond.

"That means," Desmond gave a small `thank-you' nod. "That means, he didn't
want them dead. Therefore, I did not kill them."

"I see..." Gabriel lit another cigarette for himself.

"I knew that Sam was probably seeing that damn fire guy," Desmond said
darkly. "I figured he didn't want us to know about how they've met... But I
did not see this one coming... The Fire-bloody-Guardian?! Shit!" He slammed
one of his hands onto the steering wheel. "I fucking hate them...!"

"Desmond, this is not about you," Rayhe said quietly. "You can hate them all
you want, but that `fire guy' makes him happy, all right? You can bitch and
moan about it for as long as you need, but Des..." He took a drag on his
cigarette. "Don't even think of ruining it for him. Don't give him any shit
about it..."

"Oh, I will give him plenty of shit about it," Desmond said slowly. "Believe
me..."

"Right..." Gabriel muttered. "But don't try to make him choose between you
and Blair, do you understand me? Because if you do that..."

"I am not *that *selfish, Rayhe," Desmond said sharply. "When did you find
out?"

"A couple of hours before you came home," Gabriel sighed. "I saw them in the
coffee shop. Then I lured Sam home, and made him spill everything..." He
remembered about the dog food. "Literally," he nodded.

"Goddammit..." Desmond muttered in less hostile voice than before, and
Gabriel relaxed a little. "Let's go home, I am tired. I want to go to
sleep."

Gabriel glanced at the gas meter.

"Stop by the gas station," he sighed, avoiding looking at the speedometer.

...They came home at 1:30 in the morning and Sam's car was parked in its
usual spot. Desmond muttered something under his breath.

"Just..."

"Shut up, Rayhe!"

"Desmond, just..."

"I said, shut up, Rayhe!"

Desmond pushed the front door open, walked inside, and kicked off his boots.
The dog wagged his tail and started towards them, but then he saw Desmond's
expression and changed his mind, wisely deciding to retreat behind Sam's
chair. Sam looked beyond tight.

"Went for a drive?" He asked in a small voice.

"Yes," Desmond nodded energetically. "The weather is simply charming, isn't
it? Nice and warm... Well," he continued after he walked into the kitchen.
"Not for the rest of us, naturally, since we don't have our own
heat-producing-fire-spitting human radiator, but it's not a problem for you,
is it?"

"Desmond..."

"Shut up, Rayhe!"

"Desmond..."

"Yes, Sam?"

"Sorry about lying to you... I just... I didn't know if you... I couldn't
figure out how to tell you and... I mean, you hate them, and I didn't want
to... I just..."

Desmond sighed and opened the fridge.

"Don't sweat it, kid," he said tiredly. "Yes, I do hate them, and yes, I
don't like being lied to, but..." He shrugged. "I am not the one who has to
deal with one of them, so it's all good."

"Desmond, I..."

"Okay, kid, start crying right now, and the amount of shit that you are
going to get from me about this whole thing is going to double itself,
understood?"

"Uh huh..."

"What the hell is this doing here?" Desmond frowned and pulled a bottle of
coffee creamer out of the fridge.

"Oh," Sam sniffled. "I got it today, it's really good..."

Desmond rolled his eyes and shoved the bottle back into the fridge.

"That crap should be illegal," he muttered. "Butchering perfectly good
coffee..." He shook his head, and Sam's expression became funny. "What?"

"Nothing," Sam quickly shook his head, and Desmond rolled his eyes again.

"Right... I am going to bed. Good night!"

"Night, Desmond..." Sam called after him.

He waited until Desmond slammed the bedroom door shut and looked at Gabriel.

"You know," he said thoughtfully. "They are so much alike, it's creepy..."

"Who?" Gabriel asked absent-mindedly, digging through the fridge.

"Desmond and Blair," Sam said, and Rayhe looked at him silently.
"Seriously," Sam nodded. "I am not talking about the way they look... The
personalities... Blair said the exact same thing about the coffee creamer
when I got it today... And they drive the same way... Hell, they even listen
to the same kind of music!" He shook his head. "And don't get me started on
their tempers... Creepy," he nodded once again.

"Just don't tell that to Desmond," Gabriel said quickly. "Keep it to
yourself, okay?"

"Right..." Sam smiled. "How bad was it? When you told him... How bad did it
get?"

"On a scale from one to ten, I'd say eight-and-a-half," Gabriel nodded
thoughtfully. "He didn't bitch much, which made it worse because he took it
out on the speed limit, and considering the rain... Yeah, I'd rather him
bitch," he nodded. "He calmed down though. Don't worry about him. He will
give you crap about it, but there is nothing you can do, so just suck it
up."

"Not a problem," Sam said seriously. "Thanks, Gabriel..."

"Uh huh..." Rayhe yawned. "Night, Sam... I am exhausted now. Dealing with
him when he is in a murderous mood, always takes it out of me, you know?"

"Yeah... Night, Gabriel."

Gabriel made his way to the bedroom, trying to make as little noise as
possible, figuring that Desmond would probably do him some bodily harm right
now if disturbed too much. He slid under the blanket very carefully, trying
not to shake the bed, and thought of wrapping his arm around his mate. Then
he let out a small sigh and decided against that. He closed his eyes, and
was startled when all of a sudden, he felt Desmond's breath on his face. He
looked into those green eyes that stared at him without blinking, and
carefully ran his fingers through the long black hair.

"I figured you would just want to sleep..." he muttered.

"Shut up, Rayhe..." Desmond murmured and helped Gabriel to do just that,
cutting off his air supply with his mouth.

****

It got somewhat better and worse at the same time after that night. Better,
because Sam didn't have to hide anything anymore, and that made him feel
almost dizzy with relief. Worse, because Desmond would take every single
opportunity – and there were quite a few of them – to remind Sam (and
Gabriel, who didn't share his `dislike' for the Guardians) about the fact
that he was *not *happy about the situation, and that he would rather slit
his own throat than to hang out with Blair one of those days. Sam brought up
the topic one night, and Desmond laughed until he almost cried.

"Kid," he said after he could breathe somewhat normally. "He makes you
happy, that's great!" Here he gave Sam thumbs-up. "But don't think even for
a second that I would be ecstatic to sit around with that guy and make some
sort of small talk... Ain't gonna happen! If Rayhe wants to do it, that's
fine with me..." Here he threw a very dark look at Gabriel, silently letting
him know that it would *not*, in fact, be fine with him. "But I'll be damned
if I go anywhere near him! I care about you, therefore, I am glad for a fact
that you are happy... Just don't put me into the equation, okay?"

Sam just sighed at that and silently nodded his head.

Desmond never let Rayhe know that he was having those nightmares that
started at the end of September, much more often right now. When he started
waking up with his heart racing and his hands shaking at the end of
September, it would happen once every ten days or so. Now it was happening
at least twice a week. When he woke up, he would inevitably remember
nothing. Not a single bloody thing, as if someone (or something) erased
every single memory of the damn nightmare out of his mind. He had no idea
what to make of it, so he decided that the damn `fire guy' was the reason
for all of this. Him and the semester, which was coming to an end.

Desmond didn't expect so many of his students to get below average 75 on all
of the tests. At first, he thought that maybe he made the tests too hard;
but then, noticing that Richie Zabrowski and a couple of others had no
problems with the tests whatsoever, he discarded that idea. If Zabrowski
could do it, so could the others. Finally, he decided to be even more strict
(`pain-in-the-ass') than he usually was. To his surprise and satisfaction,
it worked, and the average grade of the tests slowly crept up to a
satisfying 80. However, even with that, the damn nightmares never backed
down. Desmond kept waking up, choking on his own scream, sweating like a
goat, remembering nothing, at least twice a week.

The entire sacrifice matter was nothing but a dead-end as well. It seemed
like nothing was happening to Sam (and Desmond expected at least something,
since it was almost December by now); he would be spell-free (not just
according to Rayhe, but Tess as well. Desmond dragged Sam to see her one of
those days, making up some lame excuse for that) every time he came home;
and he would spend time with Blair, and Blair alone. It was driving Desmond
up the wall, and making him feel enormously relieved ("Oh, thank God he is
not hanging out with anyone who could actually harm him!") at the same time.

It was the very end of December (two or three days before Solstice) when
Desmond felt a very strong urge to kill.