Dead by Dawn

I'll Be on My Way and I Won't Be Long

The sounds of dying animals floating in from outside had bothered him at first. Despite all the work he'd done over the years with macabre scenes and unpalatable cases, it had bothered him. Even through all his previous assignments, it's not as though he'd ever been forced to sit there and listen to them die.

He was shocked to find that the second round didn't bother him nearly as much. The second time, he was covered in bruises. In his own blood, his own bile and sweat. The bottoms of his feet ached like he'd been stomping on rocks for hours, his muscles were all painfully taut and his heart rate hadn't fallen below 110 BPM in hours. Somehow, he didn't feel as much sympathy for the animals' quick, painless deaths.

He'd given up on crying. First of all, he didn't have nearly enough water in him to, even if he felt like it. But despite the fact that he definitely did still feel like it, he couldn't. He was bone-dead tired. He felt like a dried up river, just filled with sand and mostly unmoving.

He liked to convince himself that that was why he'd stopped fighting the injections. That he was just too tired, he didn't have the energy in him to push against Tobias and try to shuffle away like he used to, the motivation to argue with him over how it wouldn't help. And that was true.

But both of them knew that wasn't the full truth. Tobias had told him from the start.

"It helps. Trust me."

And he'd been right.

Spencer had been so sure that he'd get through this no problem, that it was just a little bump in the road. That his team, his family, were already on the way to retrieve him.

And then there were bigger bumps. And he felt like an idiot for not remembering that he'd never been able to rely heavily on his family. He took care of them, not the other way around. That's the way it's always been.

Spencer bitterly reminded himself that he could barely even do that. Was locking his mom up his way of caring for her? Her own son couldn't even stop her from devolving?

Maybe the first day, he would've cried about that. Maybe he would have tortured himself over it for hours, or however long he had before Tobias- Charles?- came back. Instead, he stared into the darkness of the camera lens. The red blinking light from before had since dimmed.

He wondered how long it'd be until it was turned on again. How long it'd be before he had another chance to aid in his escape.

He really, really hoped it wasn't too long. For one thing, Hankel was becoming increasingly unstable. Tobias was disappearing more and more, his father was getting angrier, and Raphael seemed to be happy to let Charles do anything he wanted to the man.

Beyond that.. Spencer wasn't sure how much longer he'd last on his own.

His body was slowly giving up. He didn't have much physical strength in him. It felt like he had to lift the weight of the world just to pick his head up. His mouth was exceedingly dry, his stomach ached pitifully. Not to mention how nauseous the smell of the fish alone made him. He was sure he'd feel better even if he was thrown off a cliff. Sure, Tobias did what he could to help him but it wasn't nearly enough. Of course it wasn't.

And his willpower was draining. He started craving the injections moments after one had just worn off. He'd even started begging for a new dose. When Charles bossed him around, he didn't even try to protest before obeying.

He figured maybe if he listened, the pain would be more tolerable. Maybe Hankel would go easy on him.

He never did. Yet Spencer couldn't help himself from hoping regardless.