Title: Epic
Author: HMC
Pairing: Duh.
Rated: R for horror, coming at the end
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. Blah, blah, blah.
Summary: Jay and Silent Bob are put to the ultimate test.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Abandonment

As Bob stepped through the first door, it felt like he'd lost contact 
with the floor. Then for a few short seconds, he felt like he was 
falling. But soon he became aware that he was in a different body, 
sitting in a place that seemed vaguely familiar. Then he understood. 


He recognized this room. He remembered the feel of the carpet against 
his bare feet; he knew the smell of the bed he'd slept in for most of 
his adolescent life. He could feel some of the bedsprings through the 
flimsy mattress, but it didn't bother him too much. He held the 
pillow in his arms, hugging it for comfort. He'd never had any 
stuffed animals. The room was dark, but he could still make out some 
shapes. His little sister sleeping in the next bed, his baby brother 
in the crib next to her. It was a small room, just barely big enough 
to fit them all. Bobby had spent a lot of time in here, reading his 
books that he loved so much. He only had three, but he was constantly 
reading and re-reading them as if they were new. By now the pages 
were torn and dog-eared, but they were pretty much the only things he 
owned, and that was enough to make them treasures. This room had been 
his sanctuary since he was born, but now it seemed more like a prison.

In the next room, sounds of a fight could be heard. There were angry 
words being exchanged between his mother and father. Angry, hateful, 
spite-filled words laced with Russian filtered under the door and into 
his ears. They had woken him up again with their fighting. It had 
happened before, but this time Bobby could swear it was different. 
Their tones were high-pitched, desperate; as if something was about to 
be said that would change things forever. His parents had always 
fought, ever since he was old enough to understand English and a small 
command of Russian he knew that his parents had never gotten along.

Then he heard it. He heard the dreaded words from his father. "I'm 
leaving, I'm not coming back, keep the children, I just can't live 
with you anymore!" There were angry footsteps across the floor, and 
that's when Bobby couldn't stay quiet anymore. He jumped up from his 
bed, dashing across the floor in his PJ's, throwing open his bedroom 
door to find his father halfway out the front door. Coat in hand, his 
father stopped only momentarily to regard his oldest child before he 
made a move to continue out the door.

Bobby let out a choked sob and latched onto his father's hand, gazing 
up into unfeeling eyes. "No! Papa, don't leave! We'll be good! 
I'll do whatever you want; just don't go! Please don't go!" He cried 
in great heaving sobs, promising his father whatever he thought was 
relevant, whatever would get him to stay. He babbled, swearing to 
always listen, to always clean his room, to change the baby's diapers 
forever.... "I'll be a good boy! I'll be good!" He was only vaguely 
aware of his mother trying to pull him away.

His little sister was standing in the bedroom door, half hiding behind 
the doorframe, crying as well, not fully comprehending what was going 
on. Somewhere in the background, the baby had started bawling. And 
still, his father walked out the door, not looking back, not even 
once. Through the front door, Bobby could see his father hailing a 
taxi, and going away.

Bobby struggled against his mother's grip, crying out, "Papa! Come 
back! Come back!"

Come back....

Come back....

The scene around him faded away; leaving only Bob, now back in his 
adult body, crying lightly on the floor. He hadn't thought about that 
night in years. Christ, he was only seven years old when it happened, 
how could he have known it wasn't his fault that his father left? He 
had loved his father, put him on a pedestal; generally worshipped the 
ground he walked on. And for him to just up and leave one Friday 
night and desert his family.... it crushed Bob. There was a 
deep-rooted hate for his dad that had developed after that night. His 
mother had to work three jobs to support herself and her three kids. 
His dad never sent alimony, and the courts had done dick to help them 
out. To the law, they were just a poor immigrant family living in the 
slums of New Jersey, not even worth helping. He'd never seen his dad 
again. The last he'd heard, his father had died somewhere in Florida 
of a massive heart attack. They'd never gotten a chance to make 
peace. 

Now, on his knees with his head in his hands, Bob felt the full impact 
of that night hit him again. 

"God, what a dickhead, huh?" Azrael stood beside him suddenly, a smug 
look on his face. "What kind of God just lets that kind of shit 
happen to a mother and her three kids? You didn't deserve that; you 
were always the perfect kid. You always listened to your parents, you 
were well behaved.... Why did you get such a shitty card dealt to you? 
Of all people in the Goddamn world, why did such a sweet kid get 
fucked over?"

Bob didn't answer, but took several deep breaths to get his breathing 
under control, still curled up on himself on the floor. 

"You know what it feels like to be abandoned by someone you thought 
loved you. As do I. All because of this so-called forgiving and 
loving God. God didn't bring your dad back." His voice reached a low 
growl. "Did He?"

Bob looked Azrael straight in the eye, refusing to answer, lest he 
fall into some trap the demon had set for him.

Azrael straightened his hat, rolled his shoulders and offered a hand 
to Silent Bob. "Come on, Bob, we got more stops to make.

Bob ignored the offered hand, and stood, wiping away a few stray tears 
still evident on his face. "No. I can't do this, I don't want to see 
these things." He shook his head slowly, willing to let defeat 
overcome him.

Azrael rolled his eyes. "Jesus, come on! Have you forgotten what 
you're dealing with here? You've got no fucking choice!" Quickly 
regaining his temper, he snapped his fingers. "But don't take my word 
for it."

Bob looked around and spotted something that made his blood run cold. 
Jay lay in an unconscious heap on the floor, his clothes twisted 
around his body, torn in a few places, spotted with brown stains of 
dried blood. Bob darted forward, falling to his knees before Jay, 
pulling the thin frame into his lap. 

There was blood.... there was so much blood; it covered half of Jay's 
face, dripping from cuts in his forehead and around his nose and 
mouth. Streaks of red ran through the dirty blond hair, forming a 
rust colored halo around his face. Purple bruises had begun to form 
on his cheekbones, as if Jay had just been pulled away from a 
beat-down. Bob couldn't help but let another sob escape him as he 
desperately hugged Jay's body to his, speaking soft words in a low 
voice, trying to get some response. But it was not forthcoming; 
instead he was greeted with a horrible silence.

Suddenly Jay was gone and Bob was left hugging himself. He let out an 
anguished cry, a heart-wrenching realization that Jay was being hurt 
and he was unable to stop it for the first time in his life. 

And Azrael was there again, pulling him back to the situation at hand. 
"Come on. You're not finished. Not by a long shot."

Bob stood, following Azrael to the hall of doors again. Sighing and 
mustering up whatever courage he had left, he stepped through the 
second door.

Abuse

....tbc....