Hey all! Thanks for the reviews once again! Sorry it took me a while. College is back and I've been a bit busier than usual. I'm still writing though no worries!

IcedMocha: Haha I didn't think anyone would catch the reference! Awesome! Yea I can't say I'm much of a Sheila fan myself. She's by far one of the craziest characters I've ever seen though. And you were close but she just couldn't do it. Not for now anyhow! You may be right about Angie but who knows. We will see.

WhatsGoingOn: Awesome! Mikey is definitely going to remain a reoccurring character in the story.

Mags1083: Thank you!

GryffindorAndrew: Thanks! And yes she got pwned horribly! And yes, I will be writing more in depth things about both Michelle and Angie soon.

Android Number 18: I'm sorry! Cliffhangers can be fun though!

Jason Jenkins: Thanks! Haha, yea like I said I always felt bad knowing this series had like, zero stories that were updated on a regular basis or even made it passed the 20,000 mark. It's a shame cause I'd love to read them! I am glad for Tommy too! But will he mess it up? That is the question! Haha.

Milina Chiten: Thank you! I hope you will continue to read!

Chapter 8: Demons

"Shit!" Tommy cursed out loud, his urge to fling his cell from the balcony was now rising. Why wouldn't she answer her phone? It was obviously because Mike had still been with her.

The whole situation had been driving him insane all day, and he wanted to know what the hell was going on over there. Even though he realized it was necessary, he was growing sick of all the secrecy that had been going on.

He sighed to himself loudly and sat silently in the room of his apartment, staring blankly at the muted flat-screen in front of him.

He moved to reach for the half-full bottle of Vodka on the small table next to him and took a long swig before setting it back down. It seemed he was nearing his limit for the night. He didn't care though. Another drink was taken, and another, soon after.

His mind began to wander again, to the dark places that he hated with his entire being.

"Hey cous'. Don't you think you've had enough for one night? I mean, really, you should give it a rest, Tom," a voice came from behind him. A voice he knew all too well.

He turned to the ghost of his dead cousin and shook his head in annoyance, "Whatever," he answered curtly, not in the mood for arguing with him at the moment.

"You see, Tommy? This is why your life is in shambles right now. I've told you this over and over and you still don't get it, do you? You preach about change and I have yet to see any at all," Jimmy's eyebrows furrowed, his gaze not leaving Tommy.

Tommy laughed suddenly for a good ten seconds or so and turned to face Jimmy again, "My life is in shambles? Better take a look in the god damned mirror, pal. I ain't the one that's dead. And I sure as hell ain't the one following you around like some fucking stalker," he said, taking another drink.

"Yes you are, Tommy. You keep picking up that bottle and we'll keep showing up. You're the stalker here, my friend," Jimmy responded.

Tommy opened his mouth to reply, but stopped. Jimmy was gone.

"Tch. Prick," he muttered to himself.

"Tommy," another voice came from next to him. Tommy turned his head the other way to the source of the voice – Johnny.

He looked at his brother with a gaze of hatred, but didn't respond.

"Do you still hate me, Tom? For what I did to ya?" Johnny asked him. His voice laced with apologetic sincerity.

Tommy turned away from him without responding. The truth was, he didn't hate Johnny. Sure, he still held animosity towards him for what he'd done, but he missed him.

"I'm sorry, Tommy. I really... I really am," Johnny continued, "you listenin', Tom? I'm sorry for what I've done, but you need to stop being such a god damn pussy, bro."

Tommy laughed again and shook his head in disbelief. Even these ghosts, or illusions, or whatever they were, refused to get off his back. It seemed no matter where he went, or what he did, he'd never get away from the constant put downs, criticisms, and people pointing fingers at him.

Tommy finally turned his head to face Johnny, "I'm the pussy? How do you figure that one, asshole? Please, en-fuckin-lighten me."

"Enlighten you? Really? You actually need me to enlighten you?" Johnny laughed and took a step closer to his older brother, "Bro! You survived one of the biggest tragedies in American history. You're alive, and yet here you are, sitting alone in the dark, and drinking your life away."

"Yep. Wonder who's fault that is," Tommy responded coldly.

"I realize I'm partly to blame, Tommy, but you've been falling apart for years now. Long before the thing with Janet and I, and you know it. You have no idea what you want outta life. I'm tryin' to do you a solid, and help you realize that before it's too late, bro."

"You know what I think?" Tommy stood from his spot on the couch and approached his brother slowly, feeling the affects of the alcohol as he got closer, "I think.. you don't know the first god damn thing about me, asshole. That's what I think."

Johnny laughed and shook his head, "Hey, whatever bro. I'm not here to argue with you. If you wanna continue being a dead-beat, drunken asshole," he shrugged, "be my fuckin' guest."

"You son of a bitch, Johnny! Where do you get the balls big enough to-" he stopped suddenly when a knock came from his door. He looked at the front entrance and turned back to Johnny, but he'd already gone.

"Tch," he shook his head in dismay and made his way across the room to open the door. Who the hell could it be at this time? It was already almost one in the morning. He opened it, his bottle of Vodka in one hand, and looked down, completely caught off guard.

"Michelle?" he asked, not sure if he was seeing things again, "Come in. What's goin' on? You a'right?" his voice was one of concern as her eyes had been red, obviously from crying.

"Er.. is this a bad time, Tommy?"

"What? Of course not. Why... why would it be a bad time?"

Michelle stepped in slowly and wondered what he'd been doing. Odd. There was no one in the room but she clearly heard him arguing with someone. She turned to him as he closed the door. His hair was a complete mess and the bottle he held was almost empty.

She knew he was probably drinking to drown out his problems, but she didn't blame him, and wasn't about to start judging him because of it.

"Um... well.. I thought I heard you arguing with someone.."

"Oh, that," Tommy started, cursing mentally, "that was just.. nothing. You know? Just some guy prank calling me. Can you believe these assholes?" he laughed, trying to stage the lie to a believable degree, "One in the god damn morning and they've got nothin' else better to do."

Michelle nodded slowly, not entirely sure if she bought the story or not, but regarded it as unimportant for the moment.

He closed the gap between them and set the bottle down on the counter a few inches away, "Sooo you gonna tell me what's goin' on?"

Originally, she'd come to talk to him, but after seeing the state he was in, she was considering otherwise. She knew he already had enough on his mind, and that this would only make things worse. She looked at him and shook her head suddenly, "Um.. n-nevermind that, Tommy. Are you... ok? You seem out of it.. are you drunk?" she said, her concern growing.

Tommy laughed and shook his head, "It takes a lot more than a little Vodka to get me drunk, Michelle. Trust me, I'm not. Now tell me what's goin' on."

"It's just.." she looked away from him with a sigh, "...I told Mike, Tommy."

Tommy stared at her blankly, "Told him... you mean about us?"

"Well, not exactly. I didn't tell him it was you but... and I.." she stopped for a moment, thinking to herself about how she should word the next part, "I just don't know if this is a good idea, Tommy.. I really don't wanna mess up your friendship with Mike or-"

"Unbelievable.. Don't you think it's a little too late to be thinkin' about whether or not it's a good god damned idea?" Tommy asked her, obviously annoyed with where the conversation was going, "and I'll tell ya something else. Screw Mike, ok? I don't really give a shit. We're not doing anything wrong, so if he doesn't like it, he can kiss my skinny, pink, Irish ass," he said, anger now apparent in his voice.

Michelle stared wide-eyed, caught off guard by his tone, as she wasn't used to it, "What do you mean? You're his friend... we both are, and we've been lying to him, Tommy," she shook her head, "and it's not just him. I've been lying to my best friend too!"

Tommy ran a hand through his hair with a sigh and closed his eyes for a moment, calming himself before he spoke again, "What I mean is, I don't give a shit what Mike thinks because you two were never dating. Any animosity he has towards me is based purely on god damn jealousy. Isn't that right?" he asked, further closing the space between them.

Michelle swallowed hard as he approached her, "I... I guess so but I just.. I still feel guilty about everything, Tommy. I'm still lying to Angie.."

He lifted an eyebrow and squared his shoulders to look at her with his usual intensity, "A'right. I'm not gonna tell ya what to do," her mouth surrendered to his lips for only a few moments until he pulled away, "but I think you should give this decision a little more thought. It's not like either of them ever has to know."

She already knew that, but she didn't know if she could live with the guilt that had consumed her for the past few days. She also knew she wouldn't be able to just give him up like she had wanted to. Even as they stood there she had to resist the urge to jump on him and continue where they'd left off the night before. God, this man was very bad for her.

"Tommy Gavin, you are such a..." she stopped, trying to find the right words to describe what he was. He was something so wild, so dark and wicked that it was impossible to stare into his blue gaze without a sense of feeling a little dirty.

He smirked, "A what?"

Her brain scrambled for whatever it was that could define him, "A bad boy," she said finally. A commonly used phrase that seemed cliché, but it described him perfectly - even though he was anything but cliché, save of course for the Irish man who loved to drink.

"You're probably right. Is that gonna be a uh.." Tommy's eyes lingered on her for what seemed to be the longest moment of her entire life, "problem for ya?"

She pressed a finger to his chest, eyes on his, and ran it down, stopping at his navel, "Like you said, Tommy. It's a little too late to be having doubts, right? So... a problem? I don't think so."

"Good," he hissed against her lips. She issued a small smile and retreated, making her way towards the wide arch that led to the lounging area.

"Jesus, she's only a few years older than your daughter, man. So how long is this gonna last, you think, bro?" Tommy's eyes focused to Michelle's side, where Johnny had reappeared, "you gonna get off on this chick and then what? She gonna turn into another psychopathic, waste of space like everyone else in your life? Another person to throw away, Tommy?"

"Shut up.." Tommy replied, quite audibly. Michelle tilted her head towards him in question as she sat on the couch, "Huh? I didn't say anything."

Tommy cursed himself mentally, 'Shit!' Why did he even bother replying to these ghosts, these... hallucinations? Hell, he didn't even know what they even were. He remembered Sheila telling him years ago about her psychic saying he was a "vessel" for spirits. But that was all regarded as bullshit by him at the time. There's no way in hell these things could have been real. ...Could they?

He cleared his throat, "No, no not you. It's these... god damn neighbors, ya know? They had their shitty excuse for music turned up for a second there. Guess you uh... didn't hear it."

She raised an eyebrow, certain she didn't hear music of any kind. She smirked, "I think that alcohol is getting to you, Tommy. Oh, and I'm sorry for not calling first.."

He sat down next to her, "Hey don't worry about it. I was trying to get a hold of you anyhow but you wouldn't answer."

"Oh yeah. Sorry about that.. You called right when I was telling Mike about everything.. it was sheer luck that he didn't see who was calling."

"Holy shit, really? Luck of the Irish."

"Doesn't 'luck of the Irish' refer to bad luck?"

Tommy looked at her and nodded, "Yep. But not this time. I'm Irish, and god damn lucky in this case. Therefore, it fits. See?"

She looked up in thought for a minute and shook her head, "I don't know, Tommy. I still didn't hear anything. I'm sticking to the alcohol explanation on that one."

"Highly doubt that," he responded, the room still lit only by the muted television that was still on, "it was clear as day, sweetheart. Maybe it's just your hearing that's going, ok? Ever think of that one?" he asked, a sarcastic smile on his face.

She laughed hard at the utter absurdity in his implication, "No way! I'm only twenty-four, remember? If anyone's gonna be losing their hearing anytime soon, it's you, Tommy!"

He gestured at himself with a finger as if he had no idea what she'd meant, "Tch! What? First of all, I wasn't referring to age anyway. Second, I'm just as good as I was twenty years ago when it comes to that, among other things, ok?"

She turned a little red at that, "Oh, is that so? Then what exactly were you referring to?" she asked, amused by his scrambling.

"Well, ya know. Your generation with your... iPods and rap music and.. you know. Stuff," he explained poorly.

She laughed again, "No, Tommy, I don't know. I don't even listen to rap for your information, save for Eminem."

"You still didn't deny the iPod," he replied, his voice reeking of smart ass.

"That's because I have one. But I mean, who doesn't these days? They don't make you deaf, Tommy."

"Yeah well I'm just going by experience here, a'right? My godson and my daughter, the only two people I know that own one, and neither of them listen to a single god damn thing I have to say, " Tommy said, grimacing at the thought of it.

"You have a godson? I didn't know that! What's his name?"

"Yeah, Damien. He's uh.. Jimmy's son, about your age."

She instantly recalled the name from what he'd told her the other night, "Oh... I see. I do remember you mentioning his name the other night but I had no idea he was your godson," she noted the change in his expression after Jimmy was mentioned, as if he was deep in thought about something, "Tommy.. I'm sorry about that subject coming up. I didn't know-"

"Nah, don't worry about it. You didn't do anything wrong. Trust me, there's not a day that goes by that I don't think about it, ya know? What happened is just part of.. I don't know... me, I guess," he said. She nodded, starting to understand why he seemed to drink as much as he did. It was obvious. He was trying to forget.

He was damaged, and she didn't know if he'd ever heal from the torture he lived day to day, but she knew she wanted to try and help him.

"Hey," she got up, taking one of Tommy's hands as she went, "let's go to your room so you don't end up falling asleep out here," she said, picking up the remote and turning the already silenced television completely off.

"That anxious to get me into bed, eh?" he asked her. She giggled at the assumption but didn't deny it, "I guess we'll see when we get there."

She already knew her plan to end things had failed. There was just no way she was going to go through with it. She didn't know how long the lies would hold up, but she'd worry about it when it came to that and the truth came out. For now, she was just too happy.

Thanks for reading! Will update as soon as I can! Please review!