"You're not Taylor, are you?"
The stranger rolled his eyes and giggled. "Duh." He shook his head as if wondering how it took Dave so long to figure it out.
"Motherfucking..." Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic. "You're the ghost. The ghost that was in that statue. I didn't get there in time. You possessed Taylor and you've been in there since..." Things began to fall into place. Horrific, frightening place. "That's what felt off about him. Not even his face looked right, because they were your eyes, not Taylor's."
Placing a finger on his nose, he pointed at Dave said, "Ding, ding, ding, ding, we have a winner."
Now Dave was getting angry. "You're not Taylor, you're Nicky."
Nicky nodded with his stolen body.
"You got me the wine out of the fridge. And... you drugged it, didn't you? I don't know what you put in it, but I passed out too fast. You... you drugged me."
Slow clapping sarcastically, Nicky confessed, "You figured that part out a lot sooner than I thought you would. Yes, I put Morphecil in it. You had some in the medicine cabinet. Score!" Nicky clapped his hands together loudly, making Dave jump. "Strong sleep aid and tranquilizer. Alcohol intensifies the effect. Administer the right dose and it knocks the patient out for several hours."
Nicky nodded again. "I was a nurse. You know, before..." He ran a finger across his neck.
"Why would you do that?" Dave asked, sounding hurt. This man, whoever he was, had already used Taylor's body to do several fucked up things. Dave could hardly bear the thought.
Repeating himself, Nicky said, "Duh. It's not like you're going to accept me stealing your friend's body." He rubbed Taylor's chest provocatively. "Not at first."
"I would NEVER accept that," Dave said, nearly spitting. "You get the fuck out and go back to Hell where you came from."
Laughing, Nicky leaned in, almost as close as he'd been when they kissed. "Make me."
Dave couldn't do anything but sit there and seethe. As an afterthought, he yanked hard on the handcuffs, making the chain rattle sharply.
Nicky chuckled darkly. "You're sexy when you're angry." He made a show of stretching Taylor's body, letting the pajama top fall off one shoulder and then the other, shifting it around so it still hung loosely from his shoulders. "It's weird. When I was alive, you were so young, and now... if I did my math right, you're nearly fifty! Is that right?"
Dave didn't speak, just gave a curt nod.
"Hmm. You look really different, but still the same." Nicky shook his head. "I can't believe it's early 2017. I was trapped in that mannequin for a long time."
Looking at the statue, Dave could see that its eyes were still black. "If you're in there, then where is Taylor?"
"He's in here, but I put him to sleep."
The reply horrified Dave. Put him to sleep? "How'd you do that? Slip him some Morphecil?"
Nicky just snickered.
Either way, this gave him some hope. Taylor was still in there. If he could be put to sleep, then maybe Dave could wake him up. "What do you think you're going to accomplish here? Do you really think I'm going to let you keep my best friend's body?"
"Is that who he is to you? Besides someone you want to make love to."
Dave winced, closing his eyes for a moment.
Nicky continued. "You could have that, you know. This is Taylor's body." He unfastened a couple of the buttons on the pajama top and put his hand in, stroking his stomach and chest. "You want to touch this body, don't you?"
Trying not to watch, Dave lashed out at the ghost inside his friend. "Shut the fuck up, Nicky."
This made him smile. "You do. And soon, you'll beg me to make love to this body. I'll make you want it. Maybe you might want to make love to me too."
"Don't hold your fucking breath."
"Now you're starting to hurt my feelings. I wouldn't do too much of that." He sat up a little straighter. "Tell me this. You and this guy have plane tickets to Hawaii on Wednesday. Why are you going there?"
So the little fucker had been going through their packed suitcases. Dave wanted to drag this asshole out of Taylor's body and punch him in the face, if a ghost could be punched. "I'm not talking to you."
"Really?" Nicky reached into the back of the pajama pants and brought out a gun. Dave recognized it. It was the handgun he'd bought for Jordyn to use for protection when he was away on tour. The fucker really had been going through their stuff. Nicky surprised him by putting the gun to Taylor's chin. "You cooperate and answer my questions or I'll blow Taylor's head off."
Gasping, Dave babbled, "No, no, DON'T!"
"And don't think I won't do it. I can always find another body to possess."
"God, no, please!" Dave almost began to cry.
"Are you going to answer my questions? Will you behave?"
"Okay." Nicky lowered the gun. "Now, Hawaii."
"Our families are already there. We stayed here to deal with you and are supposed to join them there for vacation on Wednesday. It's the kids' Spring Break," Dave explained quickly. "Now will you please put that gun away?"
Nicky put the gun back in his waistband. "Alright then. That gives me three days to figure this whole thing out. Three days before anybody misses you." He sat back, thinking.
Looking him over, Dave scowled and said, "I guess this is all really gooch for you, huh?"
"Wow, you are so not Taylor. Really gooch, really great. You get to live again in a whole new body. All you have to do is steal it."
"Yeah, I lucked out, didn't I? I mean, this guy is Dave Grohl's best friend. And Taylor's loaded! And talented, and kinda handsome. I could've done worse." He touched Dave's chest. "I've searched Taylor's mind a bit since I've been in here. I don't know everything yet, but I'm pretty sure he has feelings for you too. You already knew something about his bisexual tendencies, right?"
Eyes softening with hurt, Dave nodded, not meeting Nicky's gaze.
"I thought so. He could really love you, you know." Nicky traced the tattoo on the left side of Dave's chest, the black tribal design, with his finger. "I already love you, Dave Grohl. We could work something out, the three of us."
The idea made Dave's skin crawl. This nut thought he could stay in Taylor's body and they could all live together in harmony? Dave had to learn who he was dealing with, so he could figure out how to get rid of him. "Who are you, Nicky? You said during the séance that I might recognize your name."
Looking down, Nicky seemed embarrassed and reluctant to explain. "I don't think you're ready for that yet. But I will give you some hints." He thought about what he wanted to say before speaking again. "My trial on Court TV was the sensation of 1993. You might've watched some of it. People looked at my demeanor in court and thought I didn't care about anything, but there were definite things I cared about. The way the media treated my family, for one thing. I heard about it every day from my dad. About how my mother couldn't sleep and my grandmother with Alzheimer's was terrified of all the strangers who kept milling around outside the house. People wouldn't leave them alone. They chased my brother and sister through parking lots when they tried to shop... she had to leave school... people said the most unkind things to them, as if they had done something. My grandmother died in fear. The press and idiot strangers killed her with the stress they caused her. Yes, I have a lot of feelings about that."
"I guess you shouldn't have committed your big sensational crime, then," Dave said. It might be an ill-advised comment to make, but he couldn't help but make it.
Nicky started to get angry. "Oh, so you think people were totally justified in harassing my family?"
Dave shook his head. "I never said that."
"And you better not, if you know what's good for you."
Dave didn't like having to take threats like that and not be able to shoot back a sarcastic barb, but the real person Nicky was threatening was Taylor. Taylor, who would be shot in the head if Dave ran his mouth too much. "I'm sorry people were so cruel to your family."
"Oh right, you don't care." Nicky looked down, digging at a scab on Taylor's finger. He pouted like a small child.
"No, I really do care. It sounds awful. They didn't deserve to be mistreated just because they were related to you."
Considering this for a moment, Nicky finally leaned forward and hugged Dave around the chest, laying his head over the other man's heart. "Thank you for saying that. You're such a good person."
The idea of this man hugging him like that turned his stomach. Dave had to pretend it was Taylor to keep from screaming for him to let go. A sensational trial? Court TV? Throngs of people and press hanging out on the lawn? Who the hell was this guy? What had he done?
And he's possessing Taylor oh God get him out get him out get him out!
Nicky did not sit up, just kept talking into Dave's chest. "I was murdered in prison two years after Kurt killed himself."
Did this asshole measure his entire life by Nirvana?
"Before I died, I got to watch you rise like a phoenix from the ashes of Nirvana and start your career all over again. It was glorious. You were beautiful. And I wanted you." He sat up. "I've been in love with you a lot longer than that, but if a person could fall in love twice, that was my moment. My special moment with you."
Holy crap... "I'm glad I could inspire you."
Nicky looked at him, admiring him, a lovesick look in his eyes.
"So, you were giving me hints?"
Nicky tried to think of more references so Dave would have to give it some thought. He liked the idea of Dave putting a lot of thought into him. "During my trial, a man became very angry and started yelling at me. It made the national news." He positioned his hands as if he was holding onto an invisible podium. "Goddamn you, you bastard! Goddamn you! What you did to my son!"
Dave winced at how loudly he was yelling, but also at the intensity in his voice, the emotion. Something about this sounded familiar.
Nicky continued, "If I could get a hold of you right now, I would rip off your head and shit down your neck, you piece of shit! No, no, don't stop me! Don't hold me back! He deserves to die!" The veins stood out in his neck and his hands had begun to shake.
"Nicky!" Dave cried. "Calm down, okay? I get it." He watched the guy shake, breathing hard, and hoped he wouldn't lose anymore control of himself. "Did this moment upset you?"
Panting, Nicky took a minute to compose himself. "It was a moment of clarity. You don't often have to face people you've hurt like that."
"What did you do to his son?"
Looking down, Nicky shook his head. "I'm not sure I want you to know now. Maybe it's better if you don't. If you figure it out for yourself, then..." He tried to smile. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it. I don't want to talk about that anymore."
Either way, Dave wanted this ghost out of his friend's body, but he still needed to know what Nicky had done. Could this be as bad as it seemed? Had Nicky murdered someone? Was a murderer possessing his friend? "What do you want to talk about?"
"You," Nicky purred. "I took a little time while you were out to look at what you've done since my death. You've had a long, successful career. In fact, I would say you're pretty amazing. There wasn't time to listen to everything, but what I did hear was so good."
"Thank you." Dave remembered Kurt once saying that he didn't want certain types of people to be fans of his music; he knew exactly how Kurt felt now. "The guy whose body you're trying to steal helped make most of those albums really great."
"He's your drummer, right? And he can sing." Nicky touched Dave's chest again, stroking lightly. Dave looked down at his hand with steely eyes. "Please don't be like that about it. We can all learn to live together."
His head swimming with objections, Dave tried to remember that he was dealing with not only a nutjob, but a dead nutjob. "Nicky... come on..."
He closed his eyes and shook his head. "No, you take some time to think about it. Okay? Just think about it." His demeanor became playful again, hand passing over Dave's right nipple. "I would've never figured you for being so into tattoos. And being such a big fan of bands like Led Zeppelin and Rush. You're practically a closet metalhead," Nicky laughed.
Dave shrugged, eyeing the hand on his chest. "I've been out of that closet for a long time."
"But not the one in which you fantasize about your drummer. Right? Tell me what you want to do to him. If you had the chance, what would you do?"
Now Dave was shaking his head. "No. I don't want to talk about that stuff with you."
"But you have that chance now. I'll let you do whatever you want."
"No!" Dave cried. "Taylor can't consent. It would be rape."
Looking on him with lovesick admiration, eyes soft and vulnerable, Nicky said again, "You are such a good person."
Those eyes. Whenever Taylor gave him a look like that, Dave wanted to give him whatever he wanted.
Nicky leaned forward and kissed Dave's cheek, then moved to kiss his mouth. Reluctant, Dave accepted the kiss, but only a little, pulling back when Nicky tried to make it a deeper one. When he sat up straighter, Dave could see that his eyes were brown.
His heart skipped a beat. "Taylor?!"
He leaned in and kissed Dave again, and this time it felt different. Softer, not as aggressive, as if the person kissing him was unsure if Dave wanted to kiss him. Dave melted into the kiss. It came from Taylor. Somehow, it came from Taylor! Taylor ran his hands down Dave's sides, caressing him, and for a moment, they shared a passionate kiss, with no one else there.
When Taylor sat back, Dave quickly said, "Taylor, are you awake? You have to uncuff me! Quick, before..." He trailed off as his heart sank. The other man's eyes were blue again. "What... what just happened?"
"I wanted to show you how I can let Taylor out for a short time without losing control. He doesn't really know what's happening. He thinks it's a dream, a fantasy. As you can see, this is something Taylor really wants with you."
Nicky's explanation should have made him at least a little happy, but all Dave could think about was Taylor, shackled up in his own mind, living a nightmare he wasn't even aware of. This monster was stealing not only Taylor's body, but intimate moments he and Taylor should have shared alone. This was a thing they could have talked out with their wives, had basically already discussed with them, but this? This they could never get back. "It's not the same. It's not the same and you know it."
Nicky began to rub lightly around Taylor's cock through the pajama pants, already moaning softly. Dave gasped, watching as his eyes continuously and rapidly changed from blue to hazel brown, hazel brown to blue. Like Taylor was also there, masturbating willingly for him. Taylor, Nicky, whoever stroked at himself with more vigour, throwing his head back and moaning, "Dave."
His mouth open, feeling helpless, Dave said, "Don't. Don't, please." Still, he couldn't take his eyes off the hand easing Taylor's cock out of the pajama pants, caressing his balls and stroking his shaft until he began to become hard. Dave whimpered, feeling his dick react to the sights and sounds of Taylor touching himself, the moans and heavy breaths. "God, please stop."
"You don't want me to stop, not really, Dave. Do you?" Taylor/Nicky stroked himself harder, faster. "Do you want to see me cum?"
"Oh fuck yes," Dave breathed. He couldn't help but get aroused by this show. It was Taylor's face flushed with excitement, Taylor's cock, Taylor's hand, Taylor's voice...
"Do you want to get off with me?"
Squirming on the chaise lounge, Dave moaned, "Uh huh." How quickly this had escalated. Just the thought that Taylor might want him...
Taylor/Nicky grinned and pulled Dave's boxer shorts down. He found Dave more than halfway there and started to stroke him fast and with aggression, hoping they could cum together.
"Uhhh!" Dave cried out at that first touch.
They writhed in place, two backs arched, two hands pumping in time, two mouths moaning each other's names. "Oh Taylor, Taylor, mmm..."
"Dave... I love you."
"I love you too, Tee."
Taylor's whole face frowned in hurt, but it was not Taylor who felt that way. He kept both hands going 'til Dave let out a breathy howl and came on his own chest, dotting his tattoos with pearls. Taylor and Nicky came a few seconds later, spraying Dave's side and the chaise with white ropes. They didn't move much for roughly a minute, trying to catch their breath.
His eyes fully blue, Nicky leaned over and licked most of the cum off Dave's chest, lapping it up in broad strokes of his tongue. Then he grabbed either side of Dave's head and forced him into a kiss. Dave wasn't sure who he was kissing, so he kissed back, even accepting the other man's tongue in his mouth. They could both taste the evidence of what they had just done in Nicky's borrowed mouth.
He broke the kiss; they were both still panting a bit. "One day, you will cry out for me instead," Nicky declared. He fixed his pants and then Dave's underwear, covering them both up before pulling out the gun. "You remember I have this." With that, Nicky hurried up the stairs.
Dave watched the white and blonde blur retreat back to the world outside this room. "Wait! We need to talk! ..... Come back!"
He waited, but Nicky did not come back. After a short time, Dave fell asleep. A troubled sleep.
In the dream, this time, he could see.
Dave was starting to realize that these dreams felt different. Like when he saw into Taylor's mindscape, he was really there. There was a strong, real connection between their psyches. How this happened, he didn't know, but he could really reach Taylor here if he could figure out how.
He found Taylor asleep in a large bed with snow white sheets. Taylor slept with no shirt on, blonde hair spread out over the pillows; he looked like an angel. Dave leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. Taylor let out a small groan. "Dave," he said, tossing fitfully in the bed.
"He knows you're in danger," a familiar voice said from nearby.
Dave looked behind him. It was Kurt.
"Kurt..." Dave rushed to him and hugged Kurt to him. Kurt hugged him back. Then they just looked at each other before anyone spoke again. "I haven't dreamed of you in a long time."
"I couldn't let you deal with this alone. You don't know what death is like." Kurt looked behind him to a couch before a television, one of the old tube TVs that predated flat screens. Courtney sat on the couch next to the spot that Kurt would usually occupy, and on the floor Dave saw his younger self, sitting and leaning against the couch, smoking a cigarette. In fact, in the ashtray was three cigarettes; they were all smoking.
"Do you remember this?" Kurt asked. "You need to."
"We were watching something on TV?"
"Yeah. Come see." Kurt vaulted himself over the back of the couch, landing in his spot and picking up his cigarette, taking a drag.
"What a fucking psycho," Courtney remarked, looking at the TV.
Dave moved toward the couch, but stopped at the sight of two young boys sitting behind it. They were hunched over some Hot Wheels cars and something else, something that wriggled in pain, flailing its six legs. It was a beetle, and one of the boys had impaled it with a stick.
"Aw, let it go, Nicky. You're hurting it," one boy said to the other.
"That's the point," Nicky said with a snicker. Then he leaned back, an apprehensive look on his face. "You won't tell my dad, will you?"
There were at least three minds linked here. Taylor's, Dave's, and the ghost's. Dave could see Nicky's memories as well as his own.
A voice stole his attention from the two boys. Dave heard his younger self say, "Can you believe how he's just sitting there like he can't even hear all these people ragging on him?"
"He's a fucking psycho," Courtney repeated.
Shaking his head, Kurt said, "I usually like gay people, but for this asshole, I'll make an exception."
Older Dave covered his mouth. He remembered this now. No, no, no, it couldn't be. He had been watching a trial on Court TV with Kurt and Courtney. The families of the criminal's victims were reading statements to him as he sat there, showing little emotion. Statements of how he had impacted their lives.
Kurt looked back at older Dave. "You gotta figure out how to wake that guy up," he said, gesturing with his head toward Taylor sleeping in the bed. "Otherwise..." Kurt ran a finger over his neck, making a cutting noise.
On the television, the father of one of the victims held onto the podium with a death grip. "BLEEP you, you bastard! BLEEP you! What you did to my son! If I could get a hold of you right now, I would rip off your head and BLEEP down your neck, you piece of BLEEP!" He started to charge at the man who had murdered his son; the bailiffs held him back. "No, no, don't stop me! Don't hold me back! He deserves to die!"
Dave woke up with a start. The family cat Oogly had been sleeping, curled up, on his chest; now the pretty calico meowed, startled, and ran from the room. Dave couldn't move for a minute, just laid there panting as he tried to keep control of his rising, blind panic.
He knew who was possessing Taylor. It was far, far worse than he could have imagined.
The ghost inside his best friend was Austin Nicholas Kelly.
The serial killer.
Author's Notes: I'm recycling my own title here; I originally used this title for a piece of fanart for a "Supernatural" reverse big bang. In that case, the door was literal. This time, it's symbolic. I just really like the title. :D It has a certain amount of action and command to it.
The spelling "Baub" has a story behind it. I met actress Brooke Theiss at Texas Frightmare Weekend. That year, they had started having you write your name on a Post-It so the celebs would be sure to spell your name right on your autograph. Brooke was very friendly and talkative, so I said to her that I thought it was a great idea that they were having us write our names on the sticky notes, especially since I have a name like Laurel, which people often misspell. She said she hates to misspell fans' names so much that she will even ask them how they spell "Bob." I replied, "Excuse me, my name is not spelled B-O-B, I spell it B-A-U-B." The guy behind me thought it was pretty funny. ;) At that moment, I vowed I would have a pretentious character in a story who insisted on spelling his name that way because it's just too funny. I honestly think spelling it Baub is halfway between cool and insufferable. :D
If you watch any interviews and live footage of Dave and Taylor, you may notice that they sometimes call each other by the nicknames D and T, the initials of their names. Awww! ^_^ I used that in this story, but I spell them out as Dee and Tee because I think it looks better, especially in dialogue.
Austin Nicholas Kelly does not really exist. I made him up. He's not named after anyone I know in real life; I was playing off the idea that serial killers seem to often be called by all three names and it sounds best to my ear if the middle name has three syllables. I also wanted a middle name that could be shortened into a cutesy nickname. That's how I chose Nicholas/Nicky.
Some aspects of the Nicky character are loosely inspired by real life serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer.
The phrase "Soothing, black, and warm" comes from one of my favorite shows of all time, "Degrassi High." A pretentious character named Claude (pronounced Clode *eye roll*) has been writing suicidal poems about death which contain this phrase. There was something about the phrase that I found funny and interesting at the same time, and I love to include references to things I love in my stories, so I'm going to fit the phrase in wherever I can. :D
Also made up Morphecil. When you need a drug to affect a character a certain way, sometimes it's just easier to create one.
Oogly is the name of a cat seen on the reality show "Ghost Brothers." Oogly, awwwww! So cute! I had to use it.
The chapter titles will all be titles of Foo songs and songs by Taylor Hawkins and the Coattail Riders.