Logan Echolls

[NFB because it's a dream]
Detention.

WARNING: Rated R for violence, racism, character death and sexual assault. This is a nightmare about two evil characters doing very evil things. We went handwavey over the worst bits, but it's still pretty nasty. Do not read if this will upset you.

Co-written with notstakedyet with special guest appearance from marsheadtilt.

( Logan's nightmare )

Logan returned from Thanksgiving dinner with Rory's family. He tossed his jacket in the guest room where he'd slept the night before and went to look at his room.

He flipped on the lights and looked around - at the tequila bottle shattered on the floor near the dresser, the gun lying on the floor, the shattered doors that lead to the terrace, the blood on the floor and on the bed...

Should tape that up, he thought, feeling the rain blow through the broken doors. He swallowed, hard, as he looked out to the terrace and the shovel lying there. Tomorrow, he decided. I'll deal with it then.


He went back to the guest room, and flopped down on the bed, the events of the last week running through his head on constant repeat. What if the spell gone through later - or earlier? What if Jake and Krycek hadn't shown up to help?

Maybe he shouldn't have let Xander take him to the clinic.

Logan rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. He'd gotten into a fight with Jake, Krycek and Rory at the clinic. And fought with Rory later.

He'd had visitors, at least, even if half of them were sent by Rory. Finally met the Callynanders the pirate kept mentioning. Parker'd brought his stuff by. Anakin stopped by on both Monday and Tuesday. Callisto stopped by as well, with a useful gift.

He squeezed his eyes shut tight and remembered confronting Angel last night. He sighed and reached for Coach Ash's get-well gift and took a long drink.

After school, Logan grabbed a beer from the fridge and flopped down in the hanging chair on the veranda to relax. And landed on something that crunched. He reached down and found a plastic water bottle with a crucifix stamped on the lid. He groaned. "Jesus, Parker!"

Forty-five minutes later, he'd found four other bottles of holy water and countless crucifixes. He dumped them into a box, considered tossing them in the garbage, then decided he should return them to Parker properly. After her kind loan of such items, it was only fair that he return them. With interest.

He shoved the box on a shelf in his closet and slammed the door. Finding he'd dropped one in the middle of the floor, he swore at Parker again and tossed it in the nearest cabinet.