Criminal Minds ~ DNF

25

It was Drista, but behind her was two men George had never seen before.

Hold that thought.

One man looked vaguely familiar, like George had watched a movie with him in it or something. A movie... Or was it a dream?

"Y- y- y- you!" George spluttered, sliding off the stool and quickly backing into the wall behind him. He pointed at the raven-haired man with a shaking hand.

"What? What's wrong?" Clay asked, confused and concerned.

"It- it's you! Sapnap!" George cried, raising his voice.

"Uh, yeah?" Nick said, putting his hands palm-up as if he was shrugging.

"You're the Fire Killer!"

"And?"

"You slit my throat!"

"What?"

"Bro, what the fuck, I'm so confused," Drista interrupted.

"I think George has heard of Sapnap," Dream chuckled in reply to his sister.

"Of course I have, idiot," George snapped. "You know that. What I didn't know is that you live with him!"

"Technically, he lives with me," Clay interrupted. Nick shot him a look, wrapping his arm around the waist of the second man, who blushed profusely at the action.

"I guess William from Eswatini doesn't exist then? You two did go around as a duo," George guessed.

"Wilbur," Clay corrected, and was filled with immediate regret. He really needed to learn to think about what he said before he said it. George didn't seem to care much now, though.

"Wilbur," he amended. "Well? Am I right?"

"Not quite," Clay smiled. "Sappy Nappy and I went around with each other for a while, but then I met Will. I kind of got roped in, and we rolled together for a while. Sap ended up in a massive fight with one of our friends so he convinced Karl," at this, the other bruntte boy waved. "To come with him and we parted ways. You and your little FBI friends were right."

"In regards to what?"

"I did circle back to get him," Dream laughed. "Didn't you notice that his kills stopped as soon as mine started? Speaking of, I should probably take a road trip, kill a few people in different states to throw them off."

"Can't you do that without spilling innocent blood?" George shivered. He didn't like the idea at the Academy, he didn't like it now.

"If I don't kill them, they'll think I've gone soft," Clay shook his head. "They'll know you're still alive." As much as George didn't want to admit it, Dream was right.

"Where would you go?" Dream thought for a second.

"It would be a bit stupid to go anywhere near Washington, so maybe Utah going to New Mexico," he said. Turning to Sapnap, he gasped.

"Speaking of Mexico, wouldn't it be cool to get the old gang together? Quackity, Will, Techno, it'd be like high school reunion!"

"Oh yeah, I'd be down to see Big Q again! What about you, Karl?" Nick asked, turning to the other boy.

"I mean, it'd be awesome to see the Feral Boys back in business, but we can't exactly bring George with us, can we?" The boy, Karl, pointed out. It was a good point.

"I'll stay back," Drista offered. "I'm more than capable of keeping a pussy like him in one place." George felt like an object passed from person to person.

"Feral boys meet-up in California?" Karl questioned with a smile. Clay let loose a whoop, throwing his arms up.

"I think that is single-handedly the best idea you have ever had," Sapnap laughed.

____________________________________

The search was on, and the clock was ticking.

Minx and Puffy shared a screen, searching rapidly through Google Streetview, looking through Florida, Wyoming, anywhere the killer and George could have gone. Philza Minecraft, Niki, Jack Manifold and Sam had flown cross-country specifically to give them intel on Dream and what he does. From their visit, the FBI learnt that, as well as a whole bunch of other helpful things, Dream likes familiar places. Places he knew his way around, places that accepted him for him. Florida, here he comes!

That was only a hazardous guess though, and the real mystery remained unsolved. Where in the fucking world could Dream have taken George?

That's when Puffy got the email. She called Minx and Philza over immediately, sensing that shit was about to go down. An entirely new Gmail account, no profile picture, no nothing. Just GeorgeWasTaken@gmail.com and a video file...

The footage was horrible. The barrel of a gun sat in the corner of the screen, pointing straight at George. The brunette looked battered, looking at the camera with dead eyes and bleeding heavily. There was a choke collar around his neck as if he were a dog and his arms bore similar restrictions. Attached to the metal rings were long, thick steel ropes that were bolted to the floor. The collar didn't bear a chain, it seemed to only be for Dream's perverted pleasure. There was a long cut that stretched from the midway point above his brow to his ear that was bleeding profusely, like it was sliced specifically for Puffy's eyes. George looked exhausted, like he'd faced a decade's worth of trauma in the space of a week.

"Hi... Puffy, if you're watching this, please, just stop." Stop, yet here Puffy was, watching something that she wished greatly that she didn't have to.

"He says that if you come anywhere near us, he'll kill me and you. I can't let you get hurt for me. So please, stop looking for me." Ever the caring individual, fretting over Cara's safety rather than his own. Puffy was already grieving even though the brunette's death hadn't been confirmed. Speak of the reaper and he shall appear;

"By the time you get this, I'll probably be dead anyway. I've accepted my fate. Please do the same." 'Never,' Puffy thought. There was no way she was giving up on her little British boy, not for the world. The fact that he would even suggest such a thing was blasphemous.

"Tell Katherine and Jennifer that I love them, and tell Tommy and Toby that I'll miss them greatly. Tell Minx to curb-stomp some cunts for me. Tell them all that I'll be watching from above, that I'll never leave their sides." Puffy swore on her own life that she would. She let out a tearful chuckle at Minx's bit, and heard Rebecca let go of a sob behind her. The conversation moved to speak directly to her.

"This is possibly the last you'll hear from me, so thank you. Thank you for everything." The video stopped, and Puffy broke down. Phil held her shoulders as they shook with tears. Cara had held herself together so well upon her frights and griefs thus far, but she found she couldn't compose herself any longer.

This was the straw that broke the camel's back. The fully-visible needle in the haystack. This was pain like Puffy had never felt before. Pain worse than the anxious wait for George to awaken after they removed the bullet from his body. Pain worse than waiting for him to come to after they'd put too much pressure on him to remember William. Pain even worse than what she felt in Pandora's Box when she was forced to watch him bleed out in front of her very eyes.

This was pain.

Nothing but pain.

Pain worse than her mother's death. Pain worse than the funeral that followed. Pain worse than the leg she'd broken at age seventeen. Pain worse than any physical or mental ailment she'd ever had.

This was pure pain. Pain, pain and more pain. Nothing but pain. And how Puffy cried! The poor woman sobbed until her lungs burned and her throat felt like sandpaper. She was no Ariana Grande, but Puffy definitely had no tears left to cry.

There was nothing.

"Oh, George. Please come back," she whispered to the stars.