Four days later, Hellboy had company for Myers’ funeral. Vincent joined him on top of the building beside the cemetery shortly before the graveside service began. There were a multitude of people named Myers there, though the kid had never talked about his family. Hellboy had assumed that he didn’t have one left to talk about. Liz and Manning were in the front row of the mourners, each in black. Catherine stood with Jacob and the man who’d been dancing with Myers, just behind them. There were a bunch of people from Below who’d come to pay their respects, as well as a lot more FBI brethren than Hellboy had expected.

It was a beautiful, warm spring day and Hellboy had to wonder at the wrongness of that. He’d buried a lot of friends over the years, and his own father, and somehow the weather had always cooperated by being gloomy, or raining, or cold on the day in question. Not this time, though. It was as if nature had decided to give John T. Myers the sendoff he deserved; one filled with flowers blooming and sunshine.

“It’s not right,” Hellboy muttered for what had to be the millionth time.

Vincent rested a hand on his shoulder and concurred, “It’s never right when someone so good is taken before his time, especially saving others. But, John would have liked that so many have come to pay their respects. He was such a humble man. I truly believe that he didn’t think himself so well-liked.”

Hellboy sighed. “He didn’t. The kid never had a boast about anything except that stupid moped.”

“He has many brothers and sisters,” Vincent observed.

“Not that I even knew he had one.”

“I think there were many things about him you didn’t know.”

Flinching a little as the coffin was lowered slowly into the grave, Hellboy agreed, “Yeah. And trust me, I got a whole score of regrets about that.”

Silence returned between them, but it was a comfortable one. There was something about being around Vincent that reminded Hellboy he didn’t need to talk ninety-five percent of the time. When he got some distance from losing Myers, Hellboy intended to tease the shit out of Vincent that the only reason he really trusted the man was because he was mostly a big cat. Of course, that would be a long time coming, because he couldn’t summon the energy to even smile these days.

As the mourners started walking away from the grave, Vincent withdrew his hand and said, “We’re holding a wake for John Below and would be honored if you and your friends would come. We didn’t know him long, but he’d already become part of our family.”

Hellboy nodded. “Yeah, sure. Sounds good. What time?”

“After sundown,” Vincent answered.

Which would make it easier for him and Abe to get there. Appreciating the thoughtfulness, Hellboy said, “Thanks. We’ll be there.”

Vincent nimbly hopped down from the building onto the fire escape and continued down, but Hellboy stayed where he was. He stared at the newly filled-in grave for a long, long time before finally turning away to head back to the BPRD.

*  *  *  *

A hot, dull throb of pain right in the middle of his chest cut through the fog of unconsciousness and John groaned. His head hurt, too, and he wondered if maybe he’d gotten knocked out during the fight. Opening his eyes showed that he was in complete darkness, unless he’d gone blind? Forcing down the panic, John took a deep breath and called out, “Hellboy?”

The name reverberated back at him a lot louder than it should have and, horrible suspicions forming, John tentatively reached out with his hands. He encountered soft fabric overlying something hard and nearly passed out with fear as he traced the lines of what had to be a coffin surrounding him. Realizing there was a limited supply of air, he punched himself in the chest, the flare of pain cutting through the rising panic.

Grounded again, John closed his eyes so that he could at least pretend that it wasn’t so dark, and thought as quickly as he could. He didn’t know how long he’d been buried, or how much air was left in the coffin, there were just too many variables. He could have hours or minutes. There wasn’t anything he could do to free himself, he knew that, so he would have to get others to do it for him, but how?

Well, you know at least two and a half psychics, the rational part of his brain reminded.

Latching onto that, John concentrated with all his will on reaching Abe, Hope, or Jacob, even though the boy’s only major mental ability seemed to be medical diagnosis through touch. If he could reach even one of them and make them believe that they weren’t just giving in to wishful thinking, he would get rescued.

John tried not to think about what would happen if he couldn’t.

*  *  *  *

Hellboy knew that Myers would approve of the wake. It was filled with people smiling and sharing conversations that anyone else would probably deem too cheerful for such an occasion. But John had always been both an optimist and filled with the kind of innate cheer that made people smile.

“So you were the competition, huh?”

Glancing over at the man who’d danced with Myers at the party a few weeks ago, Hellboy got his first good look at the guy. Sneering a little, Hellboy answered, “No competition at all, from what I’m looking at.”

For a moment, anger darkened the man’s face, but then he gave a harsh laugh and said, “I guess there’s just something about me that sends people running into the arms of non-humans.”

A reluctant grin surfaced and Hellboy held out a hand, saying, “Hellboy.”

“Joe Maxwell,” the man replied, taking the hand. “Good to meet you.”

“Hey, Red, aren’t you going to introduce us?” Liz asked, coming up beside them.

Hellboy almost groaned at the speculative look in her eyes, but answered, “Liz Sherman, Joe Maxwell.”

The two of them shook hands, the sparks practically visible, and Hellboy mentally shook his head. Chemistry had no sense of respect, that was for damn sure. Not that he really begrudged them anything that might come out of the meeting, because he didn’t. Out loud, he just said, “I’m gonna go check on Abe. You two kids take care.”

He wasn’t even sure if they noticed him leaving. Walking over to where Abe and Vincent stood chatting, he asked, “Got anything stronger than juice to drink around here?”

“I’m afraid not,” Vincent replied. “We have a number of recovering alcoholics and addicts in our group.”

“Course you do,” Hellboy muttered.

A piercing scream echoed from somewhere outside the room, cutting through all conversation to send Vincent and Catherine running. Not sure what was going on, Hellboy followed hard on their heels, with Abe right behind him. They wound up running down a long hall and into another set of rooms, stopping at a bedroom for the mini-Vincent that Hellboy hadn’t yet been introduced to.

“It’s okay, baby, it’s all right,” Catherine soothed, holding her crying daughter.

The girl pulled free, fur damp with tears that were still falling, and exclaimed, “He’s trapped! He’s dying in that box! You have to get him out! You have to rescue him!”

Hellboy winced, knowing the girl had had a nightmare about Myers.

Catherine and Vincent exchanged a look, and the mother continued, “He’s not really there, honey, he’s up in Heaven now where no one can hurt him, remember? It was just a bad dream.”

But the girl shook her head and started climbing out of the bed. “If you won’t get him, I will! He needs help! He needs to be rescued!”

Helpless, Catherine again looked at her husband.

Vincent caught his daughter up into his arms and asked softly, “Do you think we would put him in a grave if he weren’t already in Heaven, Hope? We love John and would never do anything to hurt him. If there had been any chance of keeping him with us, we would have done it.”

Wiping at her eyes, Hope answered stubbornly, “But he’s still alive! You have to believe me! I wasn’t dreaming!”

“If I may?” Abe questioned, stepping closer and raising a hand. “I can touch her and see what she saw.”

The parents exchanged another look before Vincent asked, “Is that all right with you, Hope?”

Hope stared at Abe in suspicion. “You can really see what I saw?”

“I can,” Abe said in that firm, trustworthy voice. “Even if it was a dream. And I can tell the difference between them, too.”

Biting her lip, Hope finally nodded and held out a hand. Abe closed the distance between them and took the small, fur-covered hand in his, his eyes closing. They opened only a split second later, shocked, and Abe jerked around towards Hellboy, mouth opening. But Hellboy knew what he was going to say and had already run out of the room towards the nearest exit.

The crazy trip to the cemetery was a blur of train hopping, jumping over cars, and flat out running as fast as he could. Hellboy didn’t care who saw him or if they took pictures. All he cared about was getting to Myers and digging him the hell out of that grave before the air ran out. When he got there, a crew of agents were already in place, and Clay was using a mini-tractor to dig out mounds of dirt at a time. Coming to a panting stop beside Manning, Hellboy waited tensely until Clay hit the solid thunk of coffin.

Jumping into the hole, Hellboy yanked off the cover and found Myers lying there, still as stone with his eyes still closed. Agonized denial cut through him and he was about to start ranting at being cheated by fate again, when Myers’ eyes opened and he sighed shakily. For a long, wordless moment, they just stared at each other.

Manning broke the tableau by asking stridently, “Well? Is he alive?”

John grinned at him and called out, “Very much so, Sir!”

Reaching into the coffin, Hellboy pulled the agent free and then held him in tight, wrapping both arms around him. He felt the warmth of his body, the steady thumping of his heart, and the soft exhalations against his throat as John held on to him, just as tight.

“Hellboy? Can you, just a little looser?” John gasped.

Abruptly relaxing his grip, Hellboy looked down at the smiling man and did what he’d been wanting to do for weeks. Taking John’s lips in a slow kiss prompted a startle movement from Myers, but then he sagged against Hellboy and opened his mouth. It was sweeter than any kiss Hellboy could remember and he slid his tongue inside, groaning when John’s tongue tangled with his.

“All right, all right, enough of that,” Manning exclaimed from above, clearly irritated. “Get him out of the damn hole so we can bring him back home and get checked out.”

Hellboy reluctantly broke off the kiss and growled at their boss.

Chuckling, John rested his cheek against Hellboy’s chest and commented, “It’s good to be back.”

*  *  *  *

Getting fussed over by Hellboy, Abe, Liz, and even Manning, was more disconcerting than John could find words for. It warmed him deep inside, reassuring him that maybe they really did want him to stick around, that they weren’t just paying lip service. Hellboy had picked him up in the grave and not let his feet touch the ground again until they’d gotten to the infirmary. It had been both embarrassing as hell, and touching.

Shortly after they’d arrived, Abe and Liz had careened into the room and he’d been on the receiving end of two very tight, very long hugs, amidst their babble of voices as they talked over each other. Hellboy had stood on the other side of the infirmary bed the whole time, unusually patient as their friends reassured themselves that John was really alive again. Or, still alive. No one was quite sure what had happened.

It took a while for the doctors had given him a clean bill of health, running every test known to man on him. Hellboy was always in sight, which was very comforting and, in the end, he was simply given some ointment to rub on the scars on his chest. That taken care of, finally, John hopped off the exam bed and looked at Hellboy uncertainly. The kiss had been spectacular, no doubt about it, but he didn’t know if that had been a fluke, or what.

“Don’t even think about going to your place,” Hellboy growled. “The bed would break. Actually, it’s already broken anyhow. You’re staying with me.”

“My bed is broken?”

“I’ll tell you later. Right now, you’re marching straight down to my room and I’m tucking you in for a good night’s sleep.”

John opened his mouth to protest, but Hellboy scowled and he gave in. It wasn’t like he had much of a choice if the demon had made up his mind. Shaking his head, a fond smile surfacing, John left the exam room and headed for Hellboy’s quarters. It was a bit unnerving to get broad smiles and greetings from every agent that they passed by, as was Clay’s enthusiastic slap on the back that almost knocked him over.

Hiding a pained grimace, John smiled instead and said, “Good to see you, too, Clay.”

“Wasn’t the same without you, Myers,” Clay replied. “Glad to have you back.”

Hellboy opened the vault door and ushered John inside, saying, “You can arm wrestle later. See ya, Clay.”

John nearly groaned in embarrassment when Clay gave Hellboy a knowing wink. His reputation as a serious agent around the BPRD was about to be shot to hell, he could just feel it. He sighed and looked around the cat-filled room, realizing that aside from massive amounts of additional clutter, nothing had changed. Shaking his head for real, John turned and demanded, “How do you get things so piled up in less than a month?”

“I’ll show ya later,” Hellboy answered, gently pulling on John’s shirt to bring him closer. “Right now, I just wanna kiss ya and make sure you’re not really dead.”

John shivered a little at the intent look in Hellboy’s eyes, but put his hand on the demon’s chest. “Look, Red, I know you had a scare, we all did, but you really don’t have to umph…”

The kiss was more demanding this time, Hellboy’s tongue insistent as it pushed into John’s mouth, and he groaned in response. Strong hands slid down his back and easily picked him up, the stone arm resting beneath John’s ass to support him and make the kissing a lot more comfortable. He was vaguely aware of moving, but it didn’t really hit until he was put down on the bed.

Shaking off the haze of need, John put his hands on Hellboy’s chest and said, “I really don’t want some kind of pity fumph…”

Hellboy’s mouth cut off the rest of the words and the demon straddled him, bent forward on his arms. It was hard to think with the feel of Hellboy’s muscled body hovering so close to him and the way his tongue licked and traced all over John’s mouth. Sensations that he hadn’t had in too long, aside from the make-out session with Joe, overwhelmed him. Shifting restlessly as he hardened with need, John gripped Hellboy’s shoulders and then slid his hands down over the thick limbs.

Breaking off the kiss, Hellboy proceeded to kiss his way down John’s throat. Gasping as sharp teeth bit just enough to send a zing through him, John’s fingers tangled into Hellboy’s traditional bundle of hair. He’d always wanted to see it down and figured that now was the best time to get it loose without too much of a protest from the man himself. Loosing the leather coiled around the long hair took more concentration than he really had, so it took a lot longer than it should have. Finally, though, the fine, brown hair slid down over them like a curtain. He arched into Hellboy’s mouth as it latched onto one of his nipples through the t-shirt, gasping Hellboy’s name.

“Time to get naked,” Hellboy growled, gripping the t-shirt and pulling it apart.

John laughed and scolded, “That was a perfectly good shirt, Hellboy!”

“Yeah, well, it was in my way,” Hellboy answered, looking down at the scars on John’s chest.

Biting his lip as he watched Hellboy stare at the remainders of the runes, John offered, “It’ll probably get better looking with time. Fade away. And, I don’t know, I could try plastic surgery if it bothers you too much?”

Hellboy’s living hand covered a good portion of the scars and he looked at John as he replied, “You ain’t gonna change a single thing, Boy Scout. You lived through something no one should’ve, and I never want to take you for granted again. I never will, especially not with these things staring me in the face.”

John moved his hand over Hellboy’s, which was so much bigger than his own, and whispered, “I love you, Hellboy.”

Golden eyes met his again and Hellboy said, “I don’t get why, but trust me when I say I’m getting the better deal.”

Which was as close to saying ‘I love you,’ as Hellboy was likely to get, John knew. He understood it, too, given how long a lifetime the demon was likely to have. Getting close to someone, knowing that down the road they would grow old and die when you wouldn’t, well, it had to lead to some kind of emotional safeguard being put in place. Smiling, John countered, “I doubt that, but why don’t you prove me wrong?”

“Now that’s the kind of challenge I like to get!” Hellboy exclaimed, wriggling his eyebrows.

Laughing, John laced his fingers in the hair again and used it to pull Hellboy in for a long, deep kiss. It didn’t take long before they were back to ‘hot and heavy,’ as Hellboy liked to say, and John moaned as Hellboy simultaneously sucked and bit at his nipples and rubbed his cock through his pants. It took a few minutes to realize that both of Hellboy’s hands were nowhere near his groin and that it was the tail feeling him up. Jerking in surprised lust at the realization, John cried out as he came unexpectedly, spilling in his pants.

Hellboy chuckled wickedly and observed, “That’s a sight to see.”

Groaning in embarrassment this time, John apologized, “Sorry, Red, it’s just…it’s been a while.”

With a suspicious squint, Hellboy asked, “How long?”

“Ah, well, not that long. You know. It’s just, long hours, working hard…”

“How long, Boy Scout?”

John heaved an irritated sigh. “Three years, okay? It’s been over three years since I’ve been with anyone.”

Hellboy stared at him for a few seconds before a slow grin spread over his face and he said, “Looks like we get to make up for lost time, then. C’mon, Squirt, lemme show you how it’s done.”

John was only able to maintain his irritation for about five seconds before giving in with a resigned headshake. He’d never been able to resist Hellboy’s charms before, and probably never would. Then thought promptly took a vacation as Hellboy ripped open the sweatpants and got acquainted with the rest of his body.