Gift~GONE fanfiction

Chapter One

"Well, do you want him?" Lance waved his hand like an impatient showman, baseball bat perched lazily on this shoulder with an arm dangling, wrist limp, to hold it in place.

Drake curled his lip in repulsion, which would have been directed at Lance's air of cockiness in the face of whip hand, if the blonde didn't have other things to be disquieted over.

He regarded the thing before him like it was a soiled rag, but more like a fine cloth he could have been fond of, which was now grimy and unwantable.

"Do you have anyone else?" Drake took his eyes away from the 'gift' to look at Lance.

"Anyone better would be too difficult to track down. Caine's gone to penny, and you know how that leaves people, but who knows where he is now. And Diana..." Lance trailed off, hoping the gap of an unfinished sentence would be filled with imaginative speculation.

"What, ashamed that you beat a starving girl?" Drake knew that wasn't all...

"...and raped her."

Drake, if Diana had been anyone else, would have pat Lance on the back with an enthusiastic 'That's the spirit!' But instead the act enraged him. Diana, and the others, didn't deserve to be broken by Human Crew scum. Drake wanted to be the one for that job, he had to be.

"And of him?" Drake gestured to what knelt at his feet.

Lance nodded, taking the bat off his shoulder for a lazy jab in it's ribs.

"You raped him.." Drake brought up his head with an angry sneer, "Who does Sperry have?" Zil Sperry owed him debt, and now a lot more if he had been pulling this act.

Lance grew noticeably less lax with the bat, and it seemed to him like it was getting hot. "Zil doesn't need a pet."

Drake curled his lip in mocking disgust, "Oh right, he has you."

"Take it or leave it, Zil doesn't care, but this is your reward for helping us." Lance's handsome cheekbones had gone red, but he lowered his voice in response to a murderous look from Drake, and continued. "This is the last call on the freak."

Drake knelt, grabbing a fistful of dark honey colored hair, and yanked the boys bowed head up.

Sam twitched, and his eyes met Drakes. The brunets blue irises were broken, gaze shaky, like it was dancing over shards. It resembled nothing like the gaze of Sam Temple, a mere shadow or void of where once was heroism and drive. Sam's spark had been snuffed out.

Drake growled, and spit in Sam's face, ready to abandon the gift. But when Sam raised two lashed together hands, and smeared the spit away from his eyes, they seemed to smolder up with something. They coughed up a spark, like a lighter low on fumes.

"I'll take him."