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Description
Chapter 20, in which the diddle hits the fan. Nuff said.

Rated PG13 for language. Please note, I do not own the GAC. I don't make that much money.

Thanks to xXTailo-Lives-OnXx for starting her fic The Other Side, which inspired all this craziness.

And if you are reading this, plz comment. I'm starting to wonder if anybody cares anymore. Only about 4 chapters left after this one, and I think the last one, this one and the next couple are the best!

So, my next question to myself was how to approach Aaron. His constant come-ons made me uncomfortable approaching him about anything, but I had to know the truth about the past months of his life. If the Colt was a real demon-killer, were the other weapons he had collected also? And had he concluded that rescue was not an option; that Zak's only possible escape from the demon holding him captive was through death, a death Aaron intended to give to his friend?

At least I had a chance coming up. The guys had planned to meet at a Cuban restaurant Zak liked on Friday afternoon, to, supposedly, plot out their weekend and the future plans for Ghost Adventures. What it would actually turn out to be, probably, was another argument, with Aaron insisting they avoid demonic reports at all costs, Zak insisting they go after those very sites first and hardest, and Nick trying to keep peace and act as the balance. When I walked into the place, Nick was sitting at a table alone. "Where's the party?" I greeted him.

His smile was small and tight. "Your guess is as good as mine. Aaron's at the bar grabbing us some beers. Haven't seen Zak yet." His small video camera sat on the table beside his hand. "If he shows, that is. I figure I better film every time the three of us get together, just in case it's the last time."

I nodded, squeezed my friend's shoulder, and headed toward the busy, dimly lit bar. Aaron had just picked up two bottles of beer. "Hey, baby girl!" he hailed me. "Bartender! Another drink, for the lady here. Let me drop these off over there, and we can blow this joint, whaddya say? Nick and Zak can do their things, whatever those might be, and we, well, can do ours."

With his hands occupied with the beers, thankfully, I didn't have to play dodge-the-octopus. All the same, his grin was downright slimy. "Cut the crap, Aaron. I need to talk to you, and it's probably best if I do it before Zak gets here."

"Aha. I knew you couldn't resist my charm forever."

I sighed and shook my head. "From what people said about you, I never got the impression you were the kind of guy who'd repeatedly hit on your best friend's girl."

His expression changed, the lechery subsumed by something more serious. "Maybe you're not."

I thought that over for a moment. "Maybe I'm not Zak's girl? I think I'd know that."

"Maybe he's not my best friend. Or, no, let me put it to you differently: maybe he's not…Zak."

That was a shocking statement. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Nick approach with camera in hand, and quickly made a decision. "Okay, sounds like something else we need to talk about. Tell you what, meet me at my old apartment tomorrow. If you'll help me disassemble my bed and load it in my rental truck and take it to storage, that gives us plenty of time."

"Aw, I can think of a lot of better things to do with you and a bed!" Aaron protested, but agreed just before Nick got within earshot. He kidded Aaron about being so slow with the service, then headed back for the table with his bottle in his other hand. I followed with Aaron, who kept trying to grab my butt. After swiping his hand away several times, I finally gave up. Of course, that was when Zak walked in. His face darkened with anger that I tried to soothe, unsuccessfully, and that carried over into a very acrimonious and unproductive discussion among the three men. I drank my beer even though I'd rather have had a cider, picked at my sandwich, and tried to ignore them as much as I could.

Back at the apartment, Zak gave me the silent treatment. I concluded I'd have to make a first move. "I found out some interesting info about one of Aaron's artifacts," I told him as I got ready for bed. "That pretty old revolver he thought was a fake? Turns out it's not." He listened as I laid out the story of Samuel Colt, and seemed intrigued despite himself.

"Where'd you find all this out?" he asked.

"Sam and Dean." He scowled again. "What?"

"Strange how you can hang around with all these other guys, except me."

"Maybe that's because lately you're not around to hang with."

"Or because you've got Aaron's hand down your pants. Hell, if Nick weren't married you'd probably have been fuckin' him for weeks."

I gaped, then went looking for my sneakers. "That's it. I'm gonna go sleep in my own bed. The devils trap on my bathroom floor's still there, so if anything sneaks in hopefully it'll get caught there. If not, maybe you'll get lucky and it'll kill me, and I'll be out of your perfectly coiffed hair."

"Wha—Claire!" Zak grabbed my arm. "Wait, sweetheart, wait…what the fuck are we doing?"

I started to answer sharply, but then I looked into his face—he looked confused, genuinely baffled. "I don't know, baby! I love you, I love only you. How could you think any different? Other than Aaron won't stop his crazy flirting, of course, but I have no interest in the guy, or any other guy."

"I know, I know." Zak hugged me tightly to him and buried his face in my hair. Then he pulled me with him into the kitchen, got himself a beer from the fridge and handed me a cider. "I know you wanted one of these instead of that beer."

"And you said you didn't want me reading your mind," I teased gently. "Now you're reading mine." We toasted and drank, and I hoped the worst was over.

+++

Unfortunately, it wasn't. Hostilities resumed the next morning, when I found out Zak had abruptly quit his job at the film company. "Dude! Didn't you say you were going to stick it out till you guys got the comeback show done? Now there's no money coming in, except what I make. And you were going to honor your commitment to them—"

"Fuck it. I didn't make that commitment. Aaron pointed that out to me. I owe them nothing."

"So last night you were bitching about me talking to Aaron, and today you're doing everything he says!"

"You're a good one to talk. I'm not the one letting him grope me!"

At that I gave up. I grabbed my purse and left. I drove around town for a while, alternately fuming and grieving. When I came back to the complex I made a point of parking around back, where my car wouldn't be obvious, even though Zak's Jeep was gone too. I wasn't ready to face him yet. I went to my apartment and gazed around at the barren walls. Maybe Sam and Dean were right, and I shouldn't have made the sudden leap into what I thought would be a forever relationship. I sat down on the bare floor and hugged my knees to me as tears welled up in my eyes, then jumped up and wiped them on my shirttail at a knock on the door. 'Hi, Aaron. C'mon in."

He entered with his usual smirk, which changed to a look of actual concern. "Hey, what's wrong?" he said and hugged me. When I told him, he shook his head. 'This is what I was talking about last night. Something's not right. I'm worried Zak may not be as free of demonic influence as you think. The possessing entity might still be there, or a new possession may have taken advantage of the opening."

I had intended to gradually lead the conversation around to the subject of his weapons and their purpose, but this seemed like a tailor-made opportunity. "Did you think you might have to kill him to dislodge the original demon? Is that why you were gathering all that supposed demon-killing gear?"

Reluctantly, Aaron nodded. "This fixation of his, about hunting demons: I think it's a manifestation of his possession. You need to get away from him, Claire, before it's too late. Nick's got his family, he's not going anywhere, but you can still run. Come with me, and let's get out of Vegas."

I shook my head vehemently and moved out of his embrace. "Other people tried to tell me the same thing, so I'll tell you what I told them. I love Zak. I will not leave him to suffer, even if he is possessed, or obsessed, or whatever. And I don't see how he can be! I know the signs."

"And you haven't seen any? The short temper, the fixations, the erratic behavior? Who told you what to look for? Tell me exactly who, and what they told you."

Aaron followed me across the empty living room. I faced a corner, trying to master the turmoil of my emotions, and felt him behind me. I was certain he didn't mean to make me feel cornered, but suddenly I did. "I read a lot," I prevaricated. "I taught myself. I know a lot, Aaron."

"Not enough to protect yourself, apparently. Do you really want to stay until something more than a TV and a remote control get broken?"

My mouth was half open to answer when I thought of something, something that had never occurred to me. "How'd you know about that? Nobody was in Zak's apartment that day but me, and him—well, not him, the thing that was in him. Did he remember that and tell you? He told me he didn't remember many specifics about that time." I was so mixed up, I was half ready to believe Zak had lied about his memories—I knew he remembered tortures he had not told me—but then, then, it collided with something else that hadn't occurred to me, and the two of them turned my spine to ice. "The day you came back, you told Nick to put your box of weapons in his storage unit so you wouldn't have to carry them up three flights of stairs to Zak's apartment. You knew he lived on the top floor, when you hadn't been there yet."

I started to turn, but couldn't, trapped by Aaron's height and bulk. His breath at my ear was hot and stank. "I'd been there," he purred. "But you just figured that out, didn't you? I'd lived there for months. I screwed you there for months." Panicking, I put my palms to the walls, braced myself and pushed, trying to use my whole body weight's leverage to free myself; but I might as well have tried to move the wall. Demons are inhumanly strong, after all. A big arm wrapped around me just below my shoulders, pinning my arms at my sides; the other forearm came across my front and pressed backward against my throat, hard. I struggled uselessly, my ears roaring and spots forming in front of my eyes as my oxygen was cut off. The last thing I heard as consciousness faded was the demon's hoarse voice: "I told you, in Kansas…Before him, you were my bitch. Mine."

Description
Chapter 20, in which the diddle hits the fan. Nuff said.

Rated PG13 for language. Please note, I do not own the GAC. I don't make that much money.

Thanks to xXTailo-Lives-OnXx for starting her fic The Other Side, which inspired all this craziness.

And if you are reading this, plz comment. I'm starting to wonder if anybody cares anymore. Only about 4 chapters left after this one, and I think the last one, this one and the next couple are the best!

So, my next question to myself was how to approach Aaron. His constant come-ons made me uncomfortable approaching him about anything, but I had to know the truth about the past months of his life. If the Colt was a real demon-killer, were the other weapons he had collected also? And had he concluded that rescue was not an option; that Zak's only possible escape from the demon holding him captive was through death, a death Aaron intended to give to his friend?

At least I had a chance coming up. The guys had planned to meet at a Cuban restaurant Zak liked on Friday afternoon, to, supposedly, plot out their weekend and the future plans for Ghost Adventures. What it would actually turn out to be, probably, was another argument, with Aaron insisting they avoid demonic reports at all costs, Zak insisting they go after those very sites first and hardest, and Nick trying to keep peace and act as the balance. When I walked into the place, Nick was sitting at a table alone. "Where's the party?" I greeted him.

His smile was small and tight. "Your guess is as good as mine. Aaron's at the bar grabbing us some beers. Haven't seen Zak yet." His small video camera sat on the table beside his hand. "If he shows, that is. I figure I better film every time the three of us get together, just in case it's the last time."

I nodded, squeezed my friend's shoulder, and headed toward the busy, dimly lit bar. Aaron had just picked up two bottles of beer. "Hey, baby girl!" he hailed me. "Bartender! Another drink, for the lady here. Let me drop these off over there, and we can blow this joint, whaddya say? Nick and Zak can do their things, whatever those might be, and we, well, can do ours."

With his hands occupied with the beers, thankfully, I didn't have to play dodge-the-octopus. All the same, his grin was downright slimy. "Cut the crap, Aaron. I need to talk to you, and it's probably best if I do it before Zak gets here."

"Aha. I knew you couldn't resist my charm forever."

I sighed and shook my head. "From what people said about you, I never got the impression you were the kind of guy who'd repeatedly hit on your best friend's girl."

His expression changed, the lechery subsumed by something more serious. "Maybe you're not."

I thought that over for a moment. "Maybe I'm not Zak's girl? I think I'd know that."

"Maybe he's not my best friend. Or, no, let me put it to you differently: maybe he's not…Zak."

That was a shocking statement. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Nick approach with camera in hand, and quickly made a decision. "Okay, sounds like something else we need to talk about. Tell you what, meet me at my old apartment tomorrow. If you'll help me disassemble my bed and load it in my rental truck and take it to storage, that gives us plenty of time."

"Aw, I can think of a lot of better things to do with you and a bed!" Aaron protested, but agreed just before Nick got within earshot. He kidded Aaron about being so slow with the service, then headed back for the table with his bottle in his other hand. I followed with Aaron, who kept trying to grab my butt. After swiping his hand away several times, I finally gave up. Of course, that was when Zak walked in. His face darkened with anger that I tried to soothe, unsuccessfully, and that carried over into a very acrimonious and unproductive discussion among the three men. I drank my beer even though I'd rather have had a cider, picked at my sandwich, and tried to ignore them as much as I could.

Back at the apartment, Zak gave me the silent treatment. I concluded I'd have to make a first move. "I found out some interesting info about one of Aaron's artifacts," I told him as I got ready for bed. "That pretty old revolver he thought was a fake? Turns out it's not." He listened as I laid out the story of Samuel Colt, and seemed intrigued despite himself.

"Where'd you find all this out?" he asked.

"Sam and Dean." He scowled again. "What?"

"Strange how you can hang around with all these other guys, except me."

"Maybe that's because lately you're not around to hang with."

"Or because you've got Aaron's hand down your pants. Hell, if Nick weren't married you'd probably have been fuckin' him for weeks."

I gaped, then went looking for my sneakers. "That's it. I'm gonna go sleep in my own bed. The devils trap on my bathroom floor's still there, so if anything sneaks in hopefully it'll get caught there. If not, maybe you'll get lucky and it'll kill me, and I'll be out of your perfectly coiffed hair."

"Wha—Claire!" Zak grabbed my arm. "Wait, sweetheart, wait…what the fuck are we doing?"

I started to answer sharply, but then I looked into his face—he looked confused, genuinely baffled. "I don't know, baby! I love you, I love only you. How could you think any different? Other than Aaron won't stop his crazy flirting, of course, but I have no interest in the guy, or any other guy."

"I know, I know." Zak hugged me tightly to him and buried his face in my hair. Then he pulled me with him into the kitchen, got himself a beer from the fridge and handed me a cider. "I know you wanted one of these instead of that beer."

"And you said you didn't want me reading your mind," I teased gently. "Now you're reading mine." We toasted and drank, and I hoped the worst was over.

+++

Unfortunately, it wasn't. Hostilities resumed the next morning, when I found out Zak had abruptly quit his job at the film company. "Dude! Didn't you say you were going to stick it out till you guys got the comeback show done? Now there's no money coming in, except what I make. And you were going to honor your commitment to them—"

"Fuck it. I didn't make that commitment. Aaron pointed that out to me. I owe them nothing."

"So last night you were bitching about me talking to Aaron, and today you're doing everything he says!"

"You're a good one to talk. I'm not the one letting him grope me!"

At that I gave up. I grabbed my purse and left. I drove around town for a while, alternately fuming and grieving. When I came back to the complex I made a point of parking around back, where my car wouldn't be obvious, even though Zak's Jeep was gone too. I wasn't ready to face him yet. I went to my apartment and gazed around at the barren walls. Maybe Sam and Dean were right, and I shouldn't have made the sudden leap into what I thought would be a forever relationship. I sat down on the bare floor and hugged my knees to me as tears welled up in my eyes, then jumped up and wiped them on my shirttail at a knock on the door. 'Hi, Aaron. C'mon in."

He entered with his usual smirk, which changed to a look of actual concern. "Hey, what's wrong?" he said and hugged me. When I told him, he shook his head. 'This is what I was talking about last night. Something's not right. I'm worried Zak may not be as free of demonic influence as you think. The possessing entity might still be there, or a new possession may have taken advantage of the opening."

I had intended to gradually lead the conversation around to the subject of his weapons and their purpose, but this seemed like a tailor-made opportunity. "Did you think you might have to kill him to dislodge the original demon? Is that why you were gathering all that supposed demon-killing gear?"

Reluctantly, Aaron nodded. "This fixation of his, about hunting demons: I think it's a manifestation of his possession. You need to get away from him, Claire, before it's too late. Nick's got his family, he's not going anywhere, but you can still run. Come with me, and let's get out of Vegas."

I shook my head vehemently and moved out of his embrace. "Other people tried to tell me the same thing, so I'll tell you what I told them. I love Zak. I will not leave him to suffer, even if he is possessed, or obsessed, or whatever. And I don't see how he can be! I know the signs."

"And you haven't seen any? The short temper, the fixations, the erratic behavior? Who told you what to look for? Tell me exactly who, and what they told you."

Aaron followed me across the empty living room. I faced a corner, trying to master the turmoil of my emotions, and felt him behind me. I was certain he didn't mean to make me feel cornered, but suddenly I did. "I read a lot," I prevaricated. "I taught myself. I know a lot, Aaron."

"Not enough to protect yourself, apparently. Do you really want to stay until something more than a TV and a remote control get broken?"

My mouth was half open to answer when I thought of something, something that had never occurred to me. "How'd you know about that? Nobody was in Zak's apartment that day but me, and him—well, not him, the thing that was in him. Did he remember that and tell you? He told me he didn't remember many specifics about that time." I was so mixed up, I was half ready to believe Zak had lied about his memories—I knew he remembered tortures he had not told me—but then, then, it collided with something else that hadn't occurred to me, and the two of them turned my spine to ice. "The day you came back, you told Nick to put your box of weapons in his storage unit so you wouldn't have to carry them up three flights of stairs to Zak's apartment. You knew he lived on the top floor, when you hadn't been there yet."

I started to turn, but couldn't, trapped by Aaron's height and bulk. His breath at my ear was hot and stank. "I'd been there," he purred. "But you just figured that out, didn't you? I'd lived there for months. I screwed you there for months." Panicking, I put my palms to the walls, braced myself and pushed, trying to use my whole body weight's leverage to free myself; but I might as well have tried to move the wall. Demons are inhumanly strong, after all. A big arm wrapped around me just below my shoulders, pinning my arms at my sides; the other forearm came across my front and pressed backward against my throat, hard. I struggled uselessly, my ears roaring and spots forming in front of my eyes as my oxygen was cut off. The last thing I heard as consciousness faded was the demon's hoarse voice: "I told you, in Kansas…Before him, you were my bitch. Mine."