Everything really did go by in a blur. The thing that brought clarity to his mind again was so surprising, after the growing floating feeling in his mind. He yelled! A sharp thing made the throbbing in his arm flare up like fire, like thousands of knives were being jabbed into that one spot. "Urgh ... " He glared at Edward as the pain faded. "I didn't have anything to bite on. Bastard." He let he let his head fall back against the pillow and closed his eyes.

"I don't anything. " He didn't want to see the mess of his arm. Didn't want to see what his own stupidity had caused. And he was still talking a tad strangely. It was probably the blood loss.

Eddie narrowed his eyes. "I meant grit your damn teeth." He hissed. "Now shush." He tied the tourniquet under Dylan's shoulder and dug the stitching kit out of his bag. "You'll probably feel pulling sensations, but that'll be normal." He threaded the curved needle with the heavy black thread, pinching together the skin at the top of the first, the smallest, wound. He worked gently, but quickly, as he heard someone open the door downstairs.

"Heeey, Eddie! Dyl? Where're you at?" Oliver's voice sounded rather concerned.

"Up here, Ollie, my room!" He glanced backward, then to Dylan as footsteps got louder on the wooden floor. He winced when he heard a gasp, followed by, "Oh my God, Ed, what the hell happened!?"

"Accident. Dylan wouldn't let me take care of the hunt alone, and decided to get involved."

"What kind of demon...?" Oliver blinked at the bright red splashes of blood, looking so much more vivid than Eddie or Dylan could possible conceive.

"Earth and metal. I had to cut it from inside to force it to bleed out."

"Oh my Goooood." Oliver sat on the other side of the bed, looking over Dylan. "You could've got killed!"

The younger man squirmed a bit. He kept making soft sounds of displeasure, and wincing, when he felt the needle sliding through his skin. Ollie's arrival only made him want to scream. To scream and tell him to go away. Hurt as he was, Dylan didn't want to deal with anyone but Eddie.

"I bloody know I could have died! Already heard that spiel from dear old Eddie here." He shook his head hard and glared at the green eyed man. "Damn it, man. Is it because I kissed you, is that why you're jabbing that thing into my arm like that?" He leaned back and eyed Oliver. He was sure that was going to cause an interesting scene, and he couldn't wait to be distracted from his arm.

Oliver seemed about to reply, until he registered what Dylan said. Snapping his mouth shut, he puffed out a breath that sounded more like a balloon being released after being inflated fully, then slid off the bed, thumping onto the floor on the other side. Eddie leaned up to try to see him, but was surprised when he appeared, crawling toward the door. "Sounds like a private conversation so I'll wait downstairs thanks."

When the door closed behind him, Eddie rolled his eyes and stared at Dylan. "No." He said sternly. "Believe it or not, skin is very difficult to push through when you really want to. So it meant... well, it meant whatever you wanted it to mean." He'd been kissed before, but every time he'd seen it coming. Dylan's was a total shock, and seemed to have come from a place of anger. Like he wanted to make a point.

He was disappointed to see Oliver disappear so quickly. It just went to show that even someone even friends called insane knew when it was time to pull a disappearing act. Then he turned his attention entirely to Edward, and smirked. It was hard not to wince or make faces when he felt his skin pulled and stretched constantly. "And what do you want it to mean? I'm sure you've got to have thought something about it." He stared into Eddie's green eyes, willing him to answer truthfully, honestly without clamming up.

Emmery was worried. He hadn't heard a word from his friend in days. The artist shook his head. That was so unlike his friend, who usually checked in with everyone as often as possible. Being a journalist, covering the stories he did, it was normal for everyone who knew Dylan to wonder if he was alright. The chocolate haired man glanced at the address he'd written down quickly on a crumpled piece of paper. He'd gotten it from Dylan's old landlord, seeing as that was where all his friend's stuff had been sent.

The neighborhood he pulled into was richer in architectural marvels then he had thought possible in the city. It made the grey eyed man want to pull out a sketchbook and start taking everything down. He resisted, and instead looked for the numbers that marked X on the treasure map. When he saw the place, grand and imposing, the young man whistled softly. "Man what a place!"

Emmery stepped out of the car. His clothes, all emerald greens and ocean blues, with a pair of white sneakers, were just the thing to make him stand out anywhere. He was after all wearing a tight fitting vest, and a silk shirt. The ripped blue jeans would have looked out of place with the outfit, if Em hadn't been the one wearing the outfit. Grinning, he moved to the steps and onto the porch. He rang the doorbell.

Eddie didn't reply at first. He knotted the end of the string and cut it, then moved on to the next wound. The last was just a scratch and needed a bit of strong disinfectant, like the others, but wouldn't require stitches. "I didn't put anything into it." He said stiffly. "I don't want to be disappointed."

Oliver had actually crawled down the stairs, then stood up to start pacing the first floor in a long circle. As long as he'd known Eddie, he hadn't been in a relationship. It had been hard for him at first because of the time he'd been involved in, the past not being kind to people like them, so they had to be quiet relationships, out of sight of the general public. He hadn't been in any time-wasting relationships, however---they were serious, loving, and Oliver had been told of them. Except one. He didn't want to talk about Thomas, and barely wanted to say the man's name. All Oliver knew of him was his name, and that he'd been Eddie's first lover before he died.

Now what was going on? Oliver had been told specifically that he wasn't going to deal with it again. Didn't like the feeling of losing someone, especially after so many years had been taken to cultivate the relationship and love them so much. But he probably hadn't told Dylan. He jumped when the doorbell sounded, surprised since Eddie so rarely had others over beyond Oliver---who was obviously already there. "I got it!" He called, running out of the kitchen and to the door, pulling it open.

The colors. They sent him back a step. Blue and green of many tones melded together into a shining beacon, pierced by white shoes and dark but layered brown hair. He blinked hard and gasped. "Um... H-hey, hi..." He blinked, taking in the overload of colors, but finding it impossible to look away, and almost impossible to speak. "Uh, s... you looking for someone?" The lively scent he had was an obvious indication that he was human, which was just as odd as someone visiting randomly.

"Do you think I want this, any more then you do? I mean ..." He grunted when the disinfectant was applied. It was more reflex then actual feeling. "The last person I gave myself to betrayed me. And I know this is the last thing you want. But ..." Dylan looked away from Eddie, anywhere but at him.

"I feel so safe when I'm with you," whispered the writer. "Like no matter what happens, if you're around everything will turn out alright, because you can deal with my crap, and stop me from panicking. No one's ever done that for me before, certainly never a man ..." He was so confused, and yet it felt right to let his feeling swell from his heart.

The man who opened the door was so unexpected. Dark hair, dark clothes with a white undershirt. Everything made him want to draw, and his hands were itching for pencil and paper. Instead he smiled, and poked his head through the doorway. "Yeah, for my friend. This is the address I got from Dylan's old landlord. He anywhere around here?" The place was crazy sumptuous inside. He had to wonder what in the world had made the journalist give everything up to move to a place like this one. His career, his old life, everything Dylan had worked for was all gone.

"Don't tell me he went and got himself a rich sponsor." His grey eyes went to the shorter man. "Did he? Is he alright?" A tinge of worry slipped into his voice. The artist had the oddest sense, like something was wrong. He had to shake of the feeling to keep his smile in place.

Eddie paused, having started to thread again through Dylan's arm. "You thought that was a good idea, then? I could have accepted a 'thank you' without all this... everything." He was too drained to argue with more vehemency. "I've spent the past six decades barely doing anything more than shaking hands with someone. And recently I've been acting stupid because... things I've buried are digging themselves up and forcing me to face them. And I don't want to." He shook his head, bending down to focus his attention on his even stitching. "And I don't know why you're feeling what you're feeling but there's got to be a way to bring it to attention... differently."

Oliver blinked, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes. "Um... What? Wh---Oh! Oh, Dylan... Right. Well, I dunno about getting a rich sponsor... What's he told you?" He ushered the bright man inside and closed the door. "He's okay, just... um, stay here, I'll get him for you...!" He leapt up the stairs, tripping at the stars that were still in his vision. He'd never seen someone dressed so brightly on a regular day before, so that was strange. Unique, and he loved unique.

Pushing open Eddie's door, he poked his head in. "Ummm, Eddie...? There's a guy downstairs that's like... bright and shiny. And says he's Dylan's friend... I'll take care of Dylan for you if you wanna...?"

"I don't think you've been stupid, not at all." Dylan lapsed into silence. He glanced at the other man, forced his eyes to rove over little details. He liked the look of Eddie's jaw, the way his features fit together just right. He even liked how inhumanly thin the other man was, because it meant he'd probably be able to wrap his arms right around him and hold him close. It made up for the height difference. "I like how you've been."

When Oliver burst through the door, he wrenched to the side and wrapped his right hand around Eddie's arm. "Don't you dare go. We're having a conversation and I don't care whose downstairs, I want to finish it."

Unaware of the whole commotion, Emmery moved into the living room and sprawled across the couch. It was much comfier then he'd thought it would be.

Eddie glanced from Oliver to Dylan, blinking slightly between the two. "Ah... Okay, fine, fine... Ollie, just... tell him whatever. We'll be down soon, just make an excuse."

"You know I'm not good with excuses!"

"Damn it, man!"

"Okay, okay, Gawd." Oliver rolled his eyes and closed the door, pacing his footsteps as he went back downstairs and looked around. The colorful guy was gone from the front door, but Oliver quickly found him in the living room. "So Dylan's sleeping, and his 'sponsor' is busy in his office. They'll be down... Probably ten minutes, give or take." He grinned, glad that his tell wasn't obvious to this newcomer, which was a slight bounce he did while standing still. He did so now, bouncing onto his toes.

Dylan relaxed against the bed once more. He smiled a bit, then sobered when Oliver had run out of the room. "So tell me, how am I supposed to express these feelings differently? When these feelings make me take in the sweep of your jaw, the curve of your ear, the way you sound, with a sense of ... " Dylan shook his head. "Wonder? I suppose that would be the best word for it."

He glanced at the neat set of stitches across his arm. "If you want me to bury it then fine, I will. Just tell me so." It felt so good to let it all out.

Emmery sat up and grinned. "You do know what that sounds like, right? It sounds like womanizer Dylan ran off with a man, leaving everything else behind. I can't believe it!" He shook his head and laughed. "Actually I don't. I know Dylan well enough to know that wouldn't be reason enough for him to run off."

He stood up, and stepped forward. Emmery liked being tall. He was taller then most. Taller then this man, but less then 6"3. "So tell me the real reason why Dylan's here." He kept smiling, no matter what he said.

Eddie bit his lip against a small smile. Everything the human said had a slight flourish to it. Took a few extra words to express. "You're most definitely a writer, with what you say, Dylan. But listen---don't keep it in. You'll be bitter like me, and I'd rather not live with another version of me." He shook his head and pulled a face, pulling a little more on the thread so it pulled the skin together the right way, so natural stitching could begin as soon as possible. "Just... please, please don't kiss me when I'm driving like that again. It wouldn't be the best story to tell after the resulting crash kills you."

Oliver put his hands over his mouth, biting back the urge to smile, which was far too powerful. He squeaked, looking down, up, everywhere but at where the human was, until he crouched down and ran his hands through his hair, mussing it up so badly it looked as though he had stuck a fork into an electrical socket. "Ummmmm..." He giggled, backing away and standing up straight. "Well, y'know, it's kinda... hard to explain... to someone that... like you..." He shrugged. "See, 'cause you'll think we're crazy... I mean, I am, but y'know, better to confront it head on so you're not living in denial, y'know?"

He laughed, and reached up. Hesitantly, Dylan slipped his fingers through the Messnger's hair. His features softened, he felt them do it, let them. He felt so darn warm. So glad and happy, even if he'd been hurt facing down a nightmare. He tugged Eddie's head down. "Alright, I promise I won't ever do that again." He tilted his head up, and pressed his lips against the other man's. It was different this time. Sweeter.

Eyebrow raised, he watched as the other man crouched down. Giggling. The other man was giggling? Emmery knelt on the floor, and tilted his head. "Being an artist, I'm used to looking at things differently then most. Heck, I believe in ghosts, and aliens and a whole bunch of other stuff that'd make most people think I'm a weirdo. So go ahead. Tell me this secret." He grinned and poked Oliver's shoulder impulsively. "You're crazy? Well I am too. I think we all are, but the really crazy ones are the ones who won't admit it."

Eddie blinked, furrowing his brow. Dylan was acting differently ever since the injury. He pawned it off to blood loss before but now he seemed caught halfway in a dream-like state. He was worrying, in the back of his mind, that Dylan would either forget what he'd done or would regret it later. As hard as he wanted to resist it, that was impossible. Eddie accepted the kiss, nearly releasing the needle in his hand as he leaned forward, pressing into it. Dylan was indeed sweet, and it wasn't his humanity. It was his natural taste, like a drug, because Eddie didn't want to let it go until he forced himself to back away. "You sure do pick interesting times..." He managed to pull his voice together so it didn't shake, and finished the last few stitches with only slightly trembling hands.

Oliver bit his lip, bobbing his head a little while the human spoke. "Maybe the ones that admit it are the most dangerous... But that's irrelevant!" He waved and grinned. "I guess believing in ghosts is gonna make what I tell you a lot easier." He thumbed backward. "See, I'm not exactly... human. Kinda between living and dead. Eddie's the one that lives here, I'm just his friend. He's like me. And Dylan kind of... saw Eddie working... I dunno if I should tell you all about it but, see, you'll have to ask Dylan... He's a bit tired, but you should be able to talk to Eddie... I wasn't exactly there when he met Dyl. But I'm a pretty good friend of his, so he tells me a lot." He scanned the human once again, staring at the colors. "Good Gawd you're... shiny..." It almost hurt his eyes but Oliver couldn't turn away.

He couldn't stop smiling. Of course he was confused, and uncertain, but Dylan felt so ... content all at the same time. "Well I like interesting. Don't you?" The stitches were all done now. He knew it, because Eddie had tugged just a bit harder on the last stitch then on the others. So he tried to take a look, and made a face when he saw his skin sewn together like a rag doll's. It was so strange, so disconcerting ... And one the pain meds wore off it was sure to hurt a whole hell of a lot.

Emmery settled down on the floor, mussing up his clothes in the process. He leaned forward as Oliver spoke, trying to figure out what exactly the stranger meant. "Now what exactly do you mean by that, between living and dead?" Was he some kind of vampire? He couldn't imagine Dylan running off with anyone like that. Then again, this entire episode was odd. "What's this Eddie like, and ... shiny?" That last caught his interest. "How am I shiny?"

He tied up the last of the stitching and snipped the thread, testing the skin with two fingers. "Well, sure I do." He smiled, sitting back and placing the kit back in the bag, along with the numbing agents. "But for now you'd do best to sleep. I'll give you something to knock you out for a while, yeah? Then I'll wrap your arm so your stitching will stay clean." He bent down again, searching for the sleeping injection and coming back up to take the tourniquet off Dylan's arm. "Now that the blood's flowing easier, you'll start to feel some pain, but you ought to be asleep before it sets in, yeah?" He rolled the new bottle between his palms and pushed the needle in to fill it part way. "I'll come up later to check on you."

Oliver shook his head, rubbing his eyes but he knew it wouldn't work. His vision was eternally screwy and there was nothing he could do about that. "Weeell... Not living but pretty dead. I'm dead. But not. I'm... I'm a demon hunter. Like Van Helsing but not as alive. And kind of more real. See..." He shrugged, puffing out a breath. "Shiny... because... See... Um..." He blinked. "It's 'cause of how I died..." How was he going to be able to explain this to a human he just met? By all accounts, a rather normal, level-headed human too, regardless of how shiny he was?

Dylan nodded quickly. He trusted Eddie entirely, and putting his life in his hands had already been done ... So it was no big deal to let the Messenger pump him full of whatever drugs he thought was best. "Alright, sounds great. Just be there when I come out of it, k? I might be all confused ..." It happened, sometimes. He may never have needed to sleep after or during a surgery, but he'd done enough stories of when it had gone wrong in some way or other to expect the worse.

Sticking out his tongue, showing the piercing in his tongue, Emmery reached out to wrap a hand around the other man's wrist. It was warm, despite how many times Oliver kept saying he was dead. "So you're mostly dead then. But still as warm as any living being." He inched closer. "Wanna know a secret? I look for weird ways of seeing the world, just so I can turn it into my art." Emmery thought for a few seconds, before shrugging and standing up. "Wait a few seconds and I'll show you what I mean."

He walked out of the house and sauntered to his pastel blue car. In the back a covered painting lay against the cream colored seats. Carefully, Emmery maneuvered it out of the car, and ran back inside with it clutched in his hands. "So now you get a private unveiling of my newest piece." In the living room again, he put the lare canvas onto the couch, and pulled off the cover with a flourish. Yellows flowed into green swirls, then the emerald swirls turned into blue waves which became the sky and then white slashed across the top of the canvas like lightning. Abstract, perhaps, but it was meant to evoke emotion, not thought. Emmery watched his audience expectantly.

Eddie nodded quietly. "Sure, I'll be here when you wake up. I'll give you enough for two hours." He slid the needle into Dylan's arm and pushed the plunger gently. "You'll be fine. This isn't like normal, human medication---it works the same on living bodies as it does on Messenger bodies. You'll just fall into a deep sleep for a while, and when you wake up I'll be here." He reached up, pulling the needle out of Dylan's arm and brushing his hand down the man's face to close his eyes. Regardless of what he was willing to do, his body had other plans, and pulled him to sleep. Eddie sighed, replacing everything and pausing to lean on the bed and press his palms into his eyes.

He was so... stupid. Getting even marginally involved with a human, again. And a human that had never been attracted to a man before---or perhaps he had, but he'd not acknowledged it or even understood it. Eddie rubbed his forehead and stood. Was he some kind of masochist?

Oliver blinked, shrugging a little. He wasn't really sure how else to explain it so it didn't seem... stupid or confusing. But he just didn't have the right state of mind. It was boggled by the current influx of colors. "Uh...?" He leaned forward to hear what the newcomer had to say, and immediately felt like he was up to something. He stood, shellshocked, waiting for the guy to come back and narrowed his eyes when he came back with a large square. "What...?"

The thing was revealed, and Oliver gasped, overwhelmed at once. "O-oh...!" White and blue and yellow to green swirled and shimmered and glowed out at him like hands trying to drag him forward, pulling him into the brush strokes as though they were an entirely different dimension. "Oh my Gawd! I can taste the colors..." He reached out, finding his hand almost brushing through the colors, disrupting their shimmering effects. "Sooooooo... so... wow... Like you." As much as he hated it, Oliver tore his gaze away and stared at the newcomer. "Oliver." He stated matter-of-factly. "I'm Oliver."

He could feel the medicine starting to work. Dylan yawned. He smiled softly. The last thing he saw before drifting into blissful sleep. Numbness swallowed the pain of his arm. And this time, there were no dreams. No nightmares. Only sweet oblivion and rest.

"Well Oliver, I'm glad to see you like my art so much." There was amusement in the artist's voice. And what a reaction! There were so many people who admired his work, but none who had ever reached out as if they could feel the colors in their hands, as if they could touch the hues and tones and pluck them from the canvas. He was, to say the least, fascinated.

Emmery took a few steps towards Oliver, til they stood side by side. "I'm Emmery. And I'd really like to know what you mean, that my art is like me." He considered giving the piece to this man, who appreciated it so much.

Oliver nodded, feeling almost starstruck. An artist that could master color was an artist he loved. Abstract, like this, tingled in his senses and overloaded his mind in only the best of ways. That without pattern was something he adored, because it was unpredictable, much like his life. He blinked and looked sideways, at the human called Emmery.

"Um, well, see, like... See, it's strange and bright and unique and gorgeous... Like the artist." He grinned, shrugging and rolling his shoulders. "What else can I say, man?"

He looked around as Eddie came down the stairs, and jumped forward. "Ed! Here, look!" He pulled the man forward. "Eddie, Emmery. Emmery, Eddie. Um... Where's Dylan?"

"Sleeping still." Eddie said, stepping aside to Emmery. "He's been rather exhausted today, the moving and such. It wears you down, as I'm sure you're aware." He put his hand out to the colorful newcomer. "My name, as you're aware, is Eddie most of the time, Edward under formal circumstances. What brings you here?"

Gorgeous? Well he certainly did like being admired. Emmery grinned and preened, running fingers through his messy hair. The pose was ruined, of course, when Oliver tugged him towards the newly appeared man. He didn't hide the fact that he looked Eddie up and down measuringly, appraisingly and appreciatively. After a while, he grinned and stepped forward to shake Eddie's hand.

The other man was taller then him, and so insanely thin! "Oh, just checking on a friend. Is that so odd? I mean he did go and run off with you pretty quick. So I just wanted to make sure he was alright." Em tilted his head to the side. "So, are you mostly dead too?" He glanced at Ollie for a moment, and turned back to Eddie with a grin.

Eddie raised his brows, then glared at Oliver, who put his hands over his mouth in the universal sign of trying to hold back a fit of giggles. "Wow, Oliver, I'm telling you---"

"I'm sorry! He saw through my clever ruse!"

"Your 'ruses' are never clever! I'm surprised you're not blurting out your strangest kinks to the entire world!"

"I did that once and you keep bringing it up every chance you get---"

"Um, well, yes..." Eddie turned back to Emmery, motioning him into the living room. "I suppose you could say we're 'mostly' dead. I assume you believe in spirits or you would have run from the house after calling this lunatic crazy." He jerked his head toward Oliver, who giggled wordlessly. "We're what you might call... Ah..."

"Demon hunters! I told'em already!" Oliver followed into the room.

"Ah, yes, well... We're special beings, similar to spirits but real as living humans. When we're killed or when we die in some awful, brutal way, we're pulled from our earthly bodies by one called a Messenger, to become a Messenger as well. We hunt demonic beings that make living humans' lives difficult or threaten large groups of people by seeing them through the wall that separates the living world from that of the dead, that of the spirit world. Others of our kind seek out lingering spirits to send off to whatever life awaits them after they leave this world. We work as paranormal investigators, exorcists, and mediums to keep a relatively normal look in the pubic eye." How many times had he explained this? Too many times to count, no doubt.

"So what does Dylan have to do with all of this? And why is he really upstairs?" He stared at Eddie. Dylan had never run off with so little notice before. Knowing that just made him worry all the more, even if he wanted to turn to Oliver and ask the crazy man more then just a few questions.

In fact, he saw the perfect opportunity for one. "Oliver, you nearly told me how you died earlier, didn't you? Maybe if you told me how you became a Messenger, I'd understand how Dylan could run off with one better."

For some reason, he trusted a crazy man more then his far saner friend. Emmery didn't even know why himself, but he wouldn't deny it.

Eddie threw his hands up into the air. "I don't even see why I'm here anymore! I'll be downstairs if you need me!" He stalked through the living room and to the basement door, thumping away. Oliver snickered. "Um, weeeell... So I dunno how it happened, but Dylan found out he could see Eddie after he crossed the Veil, the wall that separates the living and dead worlds, see? And the demons mainly exist on the other side of the Veil, so they can interfere with humans without being noticed... And after Eddie crossed the Veil, Dylan saw him, and saw a demon, and they found out he had a form of Sight that let him see demons, devils, spirits, and Messengers even after they've crossed."

He shrugged, sitting in one of the chairs behind him. "So Dylan's really stubborn I found out, and he really wanted to go on a hunt even though Ed said no way, it's waaaay too dangerous. But he went anyway, and got hurt. Ed's got him taken care of, though, so he'll be up and running in no time without even a scar. I mean, that guy's like the most stubborn thing I've ever met... Besides Eddie I mean." He twisted his hair between two fingers, having completely forgotten to explain how he died.

"Eddie who just stalked off because he saw I only wanted to hear what you had to say, Eddie?" Emmery laughed. Then he sobered and shook his head. "Damn it, and I'm the one who always wanted to see ghosts and have crazy weird adventures no one would ever believe I had." He shrugged. "Oh well... Anyway, that's Dylan for you. Running off and getting himself in trouble. He's always been like that."

Emmery lapsed into silence so he could watch the other man. he could definitely give the Messenger his painting. He had plenty more in his home, some which he never showed anyone. Those ones were the precious ones. Emmery shook his head hard and stood. He ran his fingers over the edge of his canvas, and tilted it towards Oliver. "Do you want this?" For once, he didn't look at the one he was talking to, something Emmery never did.