This chapter, is believe it or not, filled with even more angst and drama than the last. I promise that the first three chapters will be the ones filled with the most angst, if that's not your thing. If it is, don't worry, there will definitely be more angst chapters, just not as heavy as this one and the next chapter.

Oh, and FYI, this chapter is exploring their pasts, so this and the next chapter take place before chapter one. Have I lost you yet?

Enjoy and please, review!

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It was a particularly cold November night in the outskirts of Beverly Hills, and an eleven-year-old Dusty Fuff was having trouble sleeping. He continued to toss and turn, his mind persistent in filling every stray thought with continuous questions. Finally settling on his back, his brown eyes stared straight up at the ceiling. I should have realized that I would have problems sleeping tonight… He let out a sigh.

Earlier that day, he discovered to his dismay that his best friend Phil had not been having a very healthy relationship with his deadbeat dad. Ever since his mom’s untimely demise five months earlier, Phil wasn’t the same and his dad hadn’t exactly been “father of the year”. That afternoon, though, when Phil came over to hang out, he was sporting an ugly bruise on his left cheek. Only after a series of desperate questions did Phil finally tell Dusty that his father had drunk a “few too many” and not to worry about it…

Remembering that recent bit of drama, Dusty sniffed regretfully and rolled onto his side, facing his window and staring out into the impenetrable darkness. He was relieved to notice that his eyelids were starting to grow heavy and the window’s frame was becoming hazier.

Just as he was about to succumb to the wave of exhaustion that seemingly came out of nowhere, his ears perked up to what sounded like someone crying out his name. Sluggishly, he sat up and strained his ears to make sure he heard correctly. Once more, the cry came from outside his room, sounding a bit fainter this time.

Without hesitation, Dusty leapt to his feet, almost tripping from the comforter sprawled around him and dropped to all fours. Reaching the door, he flipped the light switch and grasped the doorknob with his left paw, pulling it open a little harder than intended. The door creaked, as if in pain, as Dusty strained his eyes into the darkness.

Slowly, he crept outside, suppressing a sudden chill. He stirred at the soft sound of something resembling a whimper. Whatever was out there sounded like it was hurt.

“Hello?” he called out nervously. Suddenly, he spotted the culprit of the noises; a shivering heap just outside the reach of the light from his doorway. Dusty cautiously inched nearer, until another pitiful whine escaped from the injured creature, urging him to move faster to help.

As he got closer, shock swept through Dusty’s system as he realized that this was no wild animal but a fellow dragon. A strong, almost metallic smell that Dusty couldn’t quite put a claw on was wafting from the reptile, making him furrow his brows in puzzled concern. The obviously hurt dragon shook as he feebly tried to crawl forward into the light from his doorway. It was almost painful for Dusty to watch, but that quickly faded into horror as the face of his friend came into view.

Phil’s face was twisted in a grimace and his olive green eyes were unfocused as he looked up at the larger dragon. “H-help me, Du-Dusty…” he whispered with a hoarse voice, just before he collapsed, unconscious.

“Oh God, Phil!” Suddenly filled with high levels of panic, Dusty attempted to figure out the best way to move his hurt friend. Repeatedly whispering “Oh, snap” under his breath, the furry dragon eventually settled on cradling Phil in his arms, marveling at how light and very small he really was. Dusty’s stomach clenched when he felt how wet his friend’s back was with a slightly sticky substance. That new discovery, added to the strangely familiar metallic smell, led him to believe that something was terribly wrong.

His anxiety practically reaching a palpable level, Dusty nearly tripped through the doorway, clutching Phil to his chest. Glancing down briefly, he noted that the bruise on his friend’s cheek had deepened in color to a nasty bluish black. Dusty winced in sympathy while trudging through his messy room to his bed. Gently laying the almost fourteen year old on the comforter draped across his bed, he sighed and looked down at his paws to see if the sticky substance had gotten on them. It was then that he saw red…

“Bl- Blood!” Recoiling and gagging, Dusty agonizingly recognized the familiar metallic smell mixed with the sticky substance for what it truly was. Terrified at what he would discover, Dusty crept back to Phil’s still form lying on his bed. The smaller dragon was on his back, where, Dusty realized with a jolt, the blood was coming from. Gulping, he softly turned Phil on his side and gasped loudly.

Like some sort of sick canvas, Phil’s back was completely covered in deep welts; many still had blood flowing from them. Dizzy from seeing the grotesque markings and knowing that someone did this to his friend, Dusty stumbled backwards onto his sofa.

Who the hell would do this to him? He may be older than me, but he’s not even fourteen yet! A chill ran down his back and he shivered violently. His best friend had been tortured. He gazed over his shoulder towards the bed where Phil lay, still bleeding. I have to clean his wounds and bandage his back…

He cringed as he glanced back at the blood trail leading from the doorway to his bed and was incredibly thankful that his mom had agreed to let him live out in their backyard studio. It even came with a private bathroom, which was perfect for this very unlikely situation that he now found himself in. His mom could not find out about this; at least not yet.

Shuddering again, he approached the dragon who, even while unconscious, still had a pained grimace on his face. Dusty silently debated how to move his terribly hurt friend in the least agonizing way should he wake up.

Finally he settled on carrying Phil by draping him over his shoulder, making sure to avoid touching the smaller dragon’s back. Walking slowly on his hind legs, Dusty crossed his bedroom to the bathroom with his light burden. Shakily, he held Phil’s unconscious form in place using only one paw, while he grabbed a towel off the rack with the other. Dusty laid the towel on the floor of the small bathroom and carefully lowered Phil’s form onto it, belly down.

Dusty’s furry tufted ears laid back as he grimaced once more at the horrible welts covering his friend’s backside. He glanced around looking for a hand towel to clean out the gruesome marks, as well as some sterile bandages. Having a mom who constantly worries that I will somehow get hurt finally paid off! Dusty thought triumphantly when he found the box of bandages under the sink.

After soaking the hand towel in warm water and wringing it out a bit, Dusty kneeled by the smaller dragon and lightly touched the cloth to one of the gashes.

He might as well have added another scar to Phil’s back with the way the now semi-conscious dragon writhed and loudly whimpered, his eyes still shut tight. Dusty, recovered from his shock, attempted to restrain his panicking friend, who was rapidly regaining consciousness. He grabbed at Phil’s flailing limbs, but in his friend’s upset state, a claw cut into Dusty’s forearm. He hissed from the sharp sting that pierced through his arm but continued to try and calm his friend.

Finally grasping Phil’s arms, he held them down at the smaller dragon’s sides, who was still on his stomach. With a gasp, his friend’s eyes finally opened but did not see Dusty because of how the larger dragon was positioned behind him.

With a strangled cry, Phil attempted to escape Dusty’s clutches, while yelling in his hoarse voice, “Please! No more… Father… please!”

“Phil! It’s only me, Dusty.” After he barked out those words, Phil froze under Dusty’s grasp. Cautiously, the furred dragon loosened his grip on his friend’s wrists, which he noticed had some red marks marring the pale skin, and placed himself in front of his friend, so that he could see it was him and not his… Dusty couldn’t finish that thought. His mind was repulsed at just the notion that Phil’s father could possibly do anything like this to him.

Phil visibly shuddered and his eyes, though still tormented, lost their glazed look and locked gazes with Dusty’s own. Comprehension slowly dawned on the smaller dragon’s face, and his face flushed. He attempted to move but hissed and flinched violently at the pain that surely must have been very intense, as Dusty unbearably observed. Phil’s eyes widened and his face twisted up towards Dusty in panic.

“D-damn it… NO!” The hurt dragon tried to get up but only succeeded in causing himself more agony and ended up in a semi-fetal position. “You sh-shouldn’t see me like this!” Tremors made the thirteen-year-old shake, as the younger but larger Dusty tried once again to calm him.

“Phil! Please calm down… you’re only hurting yourself more,” Dusty said in a trembling voice. More blood from Phil’s wounds collected on the now twisted towel, as he continued to shiver. Dusty moved once again, so he could see his friend’s face; his eyes were tightly closed and his teeth were clenched together.

“Please, Phil.” At those words, the smaller dragon’s eyes opened. “Please… let me help you. I don’t know why you’re afraid of me right now, because you gotta know… I would never hurt you. No matter what happened this night, it wouldn’t change our friendship.”

A low whimper escaped from Phil’s throat, before he nodded slowly. “I do know Dusty… S-sorry…” he whispered, his voice sounding painfully hoarse.

Dusty’s heart clenched at his friend’s apology, and he gazed at him in sympathy. “No, Phil… I’m sorry.” Phil’s ears lifted in curiosity but immediately flattened again once he saw the sterile bandages and disinfectant Dusty held. “I’m afraid this is going to hurt… a lot, but you really need those cuts looked after.” This statement was met with a grimace. “Unless, you would rather go to the hospital…” Phil sent such a horrified look at Dusty, that it was almost laughable. The furry dragon snorted mentally, Yeah, didn’t think so, Phil.

Kneeling next to Phil’s side, Dusty struggled. “I’m not sure… what to do… How should I start?” he muttered mostly to himself. Phil, still shaking and now covered in a light sweat, glanced back at Dusty with concern.

“Just do it soon, man… Get it over with, please. You haven’t even touched them yet, and already I’m in the w-worst pain I’ve ever experienced,” he moaned, as he laid his head back on the towel and clenched his eyes shut.

Dusty nodded and took a deep breath. He lightly blew on the damp washcloth, reheating it with his abnormally warm breath; he wasn’t old enough to actually breathe fire yet, but he could do that much. Feeling more than just a small bit of trepidation at how much agony he could cause his friend, Dusty lightly dabbed at a gash. The reaction was worse than he expected. Phil gasped loudly at the contact and his lean body twisted in an attempt to escape the intense pain he must have felt.

“Sc-scratch what I just said,” he panted shakily, regaining control of his body’s tremors. “This is the worst pain I’ve ever experienced.” He laughed weakly, and it almost sounded insane given the state he was in.

Dusty shuddered in revulsion at what he was about to say. “Phil. . . I’m sorry… but I have to keep going…”

Phil nodded. “I know… I’ll be okay, just do it.” He laid his head back down on the towel and sighed wearily.

Dusty returned to lightly wiping away blood that surrounded and, only now, was beginning to clot and stop flowing from the wounds on his friend’s tense back. He focused on his task, attempting to not think about how much pain this was causing Phil. Dusty pondered about how all this had happened. I know Phil has had some bruises or black eyes from his father, but I can’t believe that he could ever do this… There’s no way… His dad must be just as sad as Phil about his wife, but why would he ever do this to his own son? No, he couldn’t have; it doesn’t make sense. Dusty stopped his mental argument, when he realized something odd. Phil’s body had resumed shaking, as was to be expected from the physical strain, but no sound came from the smaller dragon. His claws were clenched into fists and trembled as well.

As a sense of unease built up within him, Dusty carefully moved around Phil’s damaged backside so that he could see his friend’s face. A thrill of horror coursed through him at the sight. “Phil!”

Phil hadn’t been screaming or even moaning in pain, because he had almost completely bitten through his lower lip in order not to make a sound. Blood covered his chin and made a new crimson mark on the already stain-abused towel beneath him. His eyes were shut tight, though small tears were forming on the edges of his closed lids.

“Oh, man… Phil. Phil! Stop it, dude!” Dusty was frantic as he practically danced on his front paws in an overpowering amount of concern. Phil’s eyes opened a crack, peering up at Dusty. Lifting his head up a few inches, he turned his head and spat out a bit of blood.

“Phil… why would you do that?” Dusty had meant his inquiry to sound stern, but it came out shaky instead.

“Are you k-kidding me? Believe me, Dusty, you wouldn’t have wanted to hear the sounds I would have made should I not have kept quiet the way I had,” Phil scoffed, wincing slightly as he ran his forked tongue over the abused lip.

“But-“

“I think I’ve screamed quite enough for tonight…” Phil’s hoarse voice trailed off, as his face flushed.

Dusty realized that Phil had said more than he had meant to just then. An uncomfortable silence settled in the room. Dusty ached to find out what had happened to his friend earlier that night, but he knew that would have to wait for later.

“I’ve finished cleaning them. All I have to do now is just put some bandages on them.” Dusty couldn’t bring himself to actually name the scarlet marks that covered Phil’s back. They were definitely welts, which were caused by being whipped. The red marks on his friend’s wrists were obviously from some sort of struggle. Dusty’s face clouded in anger.

“Du-Dusty?” The larger dragon looked down to see a nervous Phil gazing up at him. He realized that his expression must have been a bit startling.

“Sorry, Phil. I was just thinking, is all,” Dusty brushed aside the topic for now, fully intending to discuss it later.

The older dragon nodded, though he still looked concerned. He flicked his forked tongue over his bleeding lip once more, and then sighed. “Well, then… do what you have to do, I guess.”

Dusty reached around to grab the bandages, but stopped when he felt a slight trickling on his arm. He held his arm out to examine it and realized that his cut from earlier was bleeding, a light trail of blood coming from it. One droplet dangled precariously on a hair from his arm before falling to the tiled floor below, landing right in front of Phil’s snout.

Phil blinked in confusion and then looked up at Dusty, who had already hidden his arm behind him. “…What was that blood from? Are you bleeding?”

“You’re the one who’s bleeding! Besides, it’s nothing really; don’t even worry about it,” Dusty fumbled. He didn’t want Phil to see the cut; he knew his friend would only feel guilty.

Phil’s head and neck were completely lifted up from the towel now. “Why would you be bleeding?” Dusty didn’t answer. “Let me see it.”

The taller dragon continued to search for excuses. “Phil, it’s not a big deal…” He trailed off when he realized that Phil was struggling to get up, only to hiss and fall back on the towel. “Phil!”

His friend glared up at him from the floor. “Let. Me. See. It.” The clipped words came out between exhausted pants.

Dusty stared for a moment in exasperation and resignedly showed him the cut. Phil stared at it for a few seconds in puzzlement, until his eyes widened and his ears lowered. He moaned, one shaking claw covering his face, “I did that… didn’t I?”

The larger dragon sighed and wearily nodded his head. “Phil, please… don’t go blaming yourself! This is not your fault at all. You weren’t all there then, and no one can blame you for that. Besides, it’s just a scratch; I can’t even feel it.” He gazed at his friend, who copied Dusty’s previous movements with a sigh and a nod, and re-lowered his head upon the towel.

Dusty gazed at the back of Phil’s head for a few more moments and then started to carefully bandage his friend’s backside. Huh, I’m actually thankful for my mom’s first aid lessons, he thought wryly as he continued to work with an experienced paw.

He bandaged quickly but gently, receiving little complaint from Phil, save for an occasional light gasp or hissing intake of breath that he tried to ignore. When Dusty finally finished the task, he looked down at his friend, and discovered, to his dismay, that Phil was staring at the cut on his arm with a look of guilt.

When Phil caught Dusty’s eye, he flushed and attempted to casually look the other way. Dusty didn’t buy it. “Phil… don’t do that! I already told you that it’s nothing.”

Phil looked about to protest for a moment, his eyes reigniting with a familiar fire Dusty knew well, but then closed his mouth, the olive green orbs dulling again. “Whatever,” he muttered.

Dusty physically deflated at his friend’s defeated and unemotional tone. The Phil he knew seemed almost gone, and it was greatly distressing him. No matter what, we will get through this, Dusty mentally vowed.

“Well, I’m done with bandaging. I’ll move you to the couch then?” Dusty waited patiently for Phil’s response to his suggestion-laced demand. His smaller friend glanced up and nodded, once again attempting to move himself.

Dusty huffed in exasperation. “Phil, you’re just going to have to let me carry you. You are too tired right now.”

Phil’s ears went back in an irritated gesture, “That’s humiliating… I’m older; you shouldn’t be carrying me.”

“Ah, but I am oh-so-strong!” Dusty stated in a teasing tone, pretending to flex. Phil rolled his eyes and lightly snorted, raising the larger dragon’s spirits seeing his friend acting a bit like his old self.

Phil sighed and lowered his ears in resignation. “Alright, I’ll give in… Carry me, oh strong savior. Though I’m afraid I can’t be carried ‘bridal’ style at the moment.”

Dusty winced in sympathy. “Yeah, you’re definitely right about that. I guess over my shoulder will have to do,” he concluded, and before Phil could protest, he was quickly but carefully hoisted over the larger dragon’s left shoulder. Never thought I would be thankful that Phil is smaller and lighter than he should be.

Upon reaching the “bedroom” area of the studio, Dusty carefully deposited Phil onto the sofa. A soft moan escaped his friend, who had just seen the stained bed sheets. “Looks like I ruined your comforter.”

Dusty chuckled sadly, shaking his head. Always worrying and blaming yourself about things that really don’t matter. “Phil, it’s cool. I don’t really care about my comforter at the moment.”

His friend gave him a half-hearted smirk before settling his head on a pillow at the end of the sofa and sighing softly. He was staring straight ahead; at nothing in particular either, it seemed.

Dusty gazed at him, wondering if now was a good time to ask. I just have to know what happened to him this night. Clearing his throat, Dusty scooted towards his friend a little more. “Hey, Phil?”

The smaller dragon lifted his head and turned it towards Dusty. “Yeah?”

Any need to hear the truth vanished as soon as Dusty saw his friend’s face. Phil’s complexion was quite pale, allowing the bruise on his cheek to appear even darker than it was. He was trembling slightly and his eyes were dull with dark bags beneath them.

He’s so tired. I’ll find out later, Dusty decided. “Oh, um… I just wanted to tell you good night. I’ll be over at my bed if you need anything.”

Phil blinked sleepily a couple times and nodded, resting his head back on the pillow and closing his eyes. Dusty watched him for a few more seconds and then quietly went to his bed. His ears lowered as he saw the blood-soaked comforter. I wonder if I should even attempt to wash this… Unfortunately, his studio didn’t include a personal Laundromat, and Dusty knew that his mother wouldn’t be ignorant enough to not notice some bloody bed sheet in the wash.

Sighing sadly, he dragged the ruined comforter outside and placed it in the trash. Man, I really liked that comforter too. He shrugged and re-entered the studio. He fell onto his bed with a soft moan, finally starting to relax. Dusty cast one more glance worryingly at Phil’s sleeping form before he too relinquished to the exhaustion that plagued his body and mind.

A few hours of rest later, Dusty stirred awake from cries coming from the sofa. His sleep-drugged mind finally comprehended the situation after a few hazy seconds. He shot out of bed and was quickly by Phil’s side.

His friend’s eyes were closed and tears streamed from them. His claws were tearing into the sofa and cries of agony were emerging from his open mouth. Phil sobbed and whimpered pitifully between screams and then the spoken pleas started. “No… please! Father! Stop! I’m… s-sorry… forgive me!”

Dusty’s gut twisted in pained sympathy as he watched Phil writhe on the sofa. Bracing himself, he shook Phil gently but firmly, who jolted awake with a startled cry. The smaller dragon’s body shook as his eyes, tears still leaking from them, met Dusty’s own. Phil didn’t maintain eye contact for long and looked away, his eyes closing tight while he choked on a sob.

Glancing at the bandages on his friend’s back, Dusty saw red stains. The wounds had reopened from Phil’s flailing. In a soft voice, just above whispering, Dusty informed Phil that he would have to bandage the cuts again. There was little reaction from the smaller dragon; his face was half-buried in the pillow, tears still escaping from closed lids.

Dusty gulped from the unnerving response and set to work. His friend stirred from the pain and then whispered, “It really happened.”

The larger dragon glanced up from his bandaging in surprise. “What really happened?”

Phil ignored him and continued to repeat the phrase, his voice cracking slightly. “It really happened.”

“Phil-“

“It really happened.”

“Phil.”

“Oh God, it really happened.” That one ended with a whimper.

“Phil, please!” Dusty cried in alarm, shaking his friend’s shoulder.

The hurt dragon started as he snapped out of his shock with a light gasp. Dusty watched his friend glance at him with what looked like shame and then re-bury his head in the pillow.

“What happened to you?” Dusty wondered, while gently stroking the reddened scales of his friend’s wrist. It wasn’t until Phil whipped his head to look at him in alarm, his face blanching, that Dusty realized that he had actually whispered the question aloud.

Phil continued to stare at him in panic, his eyes occasionally darting towards the doorway, as though he believed he could make an escape.

How can he not trust me after all this? Dusty thought bitterly. Noticing the terror present in his friend’s eyes, the larger dragon’s irritation dissipated. No, he does trust me… he’s just had something really horrible happen to him.

“Phil, please… tell me. I can’t make the pain go away completely, but I think someone needs to know what really happened tonight. You know I wouldn’t tell anyone, if you didn’t want me to.” Dusty watched Phil’s eyes fill with renewed tears and then lower to the floor.

“…Okay. I’ll tell you.” His voice was subdued and defeated, but Dusty couldn’t help a burst of relief fill him.

Phil took a shaky breath and began. “My father… he hasn’t been stable since my mom… well, you know. We never had a great relationship but… this… was unexpected to say the least.” His voice sounded peculiarly strong, until Dusty realized that any emotion in his words was absent.

The smaller dragon continued. “He’s been getting drunk every single night. He hasn’t been… in his right mind for quite some time now. If he’s not hammered, he’s asleep or out. Those are the only times I’ve felt safe.” Phil shifted a bit on the couch, seeming more uncomfortable and not just physically so. “Last night… it got… really bad,” his voice broke. “I was asleep until I woke up to his shouting.”

Phil stopped for a moment, seeming to try and collect himself. “Father kept shouting things like how I was a disgrace to him and that I should have d-died instead of Mom… I tried to escape or at least to turn around and face him, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t move at all.”

He stopped abruptly and re-lowered his head to the pillow, beginning to sob again. Dusty rubbed Phil’s arm, attempting to comfort him somehow, not knowing exactly how to. Phil seemed to finally get a hold of himself, the sobs ceasing, but the tears continued to silently fall.

“Then I… felt the worst pain ever on my back. He… my own father whipped me.” Dusty gasped but it went unnoticed. “… I couldn’t stop sc-screaming. I finally fainted from the pain… I can’t even remember how I got to your house. All I know is… I was free from the restraints when I woke up and I somehow dragged myself to your doorway… I-I can’t believe it actually happened. Oh, God.” A sickly green tinge, different from the natural color of his scales, was suddenly present on Phil’s face, as he gasped and stumbled off the couch.

Dusty was too shaken by his friend’s horrifying recount to even move to aid Phil as he scrambled towards the bathroom. His tufted ears lowered as he heard the distant noises of what sounded like dry heaving.

As Phil’s body attempted to expel the contents of his empty stomach, Dusty continued to sit there. He felt numb. This deep hatred towards Phil’s beast of a father combined with an intense anguish for his friend’s pain was too much for his fragile eleven-year-old mind.

Since when did life become this complicated? He asked himself, as he finally discovered how to move his legs again. The only thing that mattered right now was helping his friend, and that’s exactly what he would do, no matter how long it took.

He didn’t intend to let Phil go.