Current location:	Same as usual
Current mood:	bored
Current music:	Mommy and Daddy (Original unreleased version)

Some Crap Not Worthy of a Name Pt 3
Title: Some Crap not worthy of a name...
Author: Wolf (wolf_spirit16)
Rating: Probably R to be safe
Genre: Drama/horror/I DON'T CARE I'M MAKING MY BRAIN BETTER MAN!!!
Warnings: Um... Not much this chapter. Some strong language is really the only warning i can think of.



Notes:
I don't feel I need to say much more. But its a running theme to have tons of notes for me. So I will say a few things.

Basically I think for the most part I accomplished my original goal. I pretty much just rewrote the beginning of the original. (The first few paragraphs turned into two chapters lol)
And I think I COULD get away with dropping this officially now.
But...
1) A couple of you seem to mildly like it.
B... no 2) I want to just be safe in case the 'demons' aren't eradicated.
3 and/or C) I don't think I really would want to leave Micky dead in my brain.
4 or D or those little brackets they put at the end of footnotes) I will continue a little bit
(((Did you see what I did there Doctor Who watchers?)))

*ahem* So... Yea I'll continue at least for now.

Notes 2: Oh and in the original this chapter was like a couple sentences of like "We can save him if we go to her place... Ok lets go" Basically... that was it lol

Also:
Because I'm bored of the name "Some Crap not worthy of a name" If anyone would like to suggest new and real names I'd love to know. (I hate making titles but even have them for the worst of writings in the end)



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

It had been three (((I really seem to like 3 and four for some reason lol))) days since the horrible night. In those three very long days a lot happened. A lot more then any of the guys felt they were up to.


The next morning from the hellish nightmare (or only a few hours later) their landlord, Mr. Babbit, had come to their door. He thought he heard something in the night but decided it was probably the fellas being their loud obnoxious selves or only his imagination (They decided that, since he only heard a slight shriek, Daphne had probably muted any sound from exiting the pad)

In the night Mike had coaxed Peter and Davy to the couch, which he had to set back on it's legs. There they promptly fell into troubled dreams due to the extreme emotional drain they all just had. Mike decided to stay awake, finding himself both unable to fall asleep and not feeling safe enough to allow for another unguarded moment.

When Babbit came to the door at seven in the morning (planning on waking everyone up since only Peter was ever awake at that time) he was greeted by a dishelved Mike.

Babbit opened his mouth to yell at them for the noise he heard in the night (which, though only an unrecognizable noise at the time to his ears, he still blamed the boys) he then registered what he saw. Mike was standing before him. Dried blood on his hands, shirt and more so his pants. The guitarists eyes were blood shot. Babbit's eyes widened as he saw Micky in the corner, unmoved from the night. At first thought he suspected Mike for killing the drummer.

Mike, even in his slowed state of mind, seemed to catch this and hoped to get rid of those suspicions. "Micky was murdered last night.... We stayed next to him as he died."

He couldn't get any more out, as he felt tears fighting their way back up. He held them back.

Behind him Peter had woken up, "Ug... wha- why am I sleeping on th-" He stopped in mid-word as his memory returned to him and realized the nightmare was reality. Promptly he started quietly sobbing to himself again. Which woke up Davy, who tried comforting his friend.

Mike turned back to Babbit. "Help us." He and his friends were in no state to do anything on their own.

Babbit found himself believing the dark haired Texan and immediately went off to take care of what needed to be taken care of.

In about an hour Micky's body had been removed and the police took the Monkees in to try to get a statement to what happened. In choked words the remaining Monkees told their story. The police decided that they were in a far to emotional state to give them an accurate telling, as they had mentions of voodoo which of course wasn't possible.

In the three days Babbit had also informed Micky's family and had the stained carpet removed, floorboards cleaned and new carpet (matching the soiled one) replaced.

The third day the pad looked like no horrible deed had ever happened.

The struggling friends saw the days pass in a haze and now were in just as bad of a condition, though not crying at every single mention of the name.

Mike stared at Micky's drumset, untouched since their last rehearsal. His eyes red and dry due to simply not blinking. He held a book in his lap, an attempt to get his mind off of things, yet found himself unable to read more then a sentence at a time before loosing all interest. He blamed himself fully for what had happened to his friend.

Without any warning he tore up from the chair and sent the book hurdling to the nearby wall, causing it's spine to bend from the force. "God dammit!" His accent became thick as it normally did when he got angry or aggravated. "It's my fucking fault! Ah knew somethin' was a'matter. Ah shouldn't have let 'im sleep out here! Ah shoulda made him take that stupid thing off his bed! Maybe if Ah let him go to the beach she wouldn't'a found him!"

He kicked the chair he had been sitting on causing it to fall and fly back a few feet from it's original spot.

"My fault! I shoulda heard! I thought I heard somethin'! Why didn't I fuckin get up the moment I heard it... why... why!" His words were lost in more self-directed curses.

He punched the wall the book had hit, though rather then even causing a dent, causing pain to shoot up from his knuckles. In his fit of anger this hardly bothered him.

Peter and Davy who had been on the balcony, hoping the cool night air could calm their emotions, came in. Mike's anger not phasing them in the least.

But when he crumpled into a heap in the spot Micky had been, crying nearly as hard as they had nights before, that was unnerving. Mike had only cried on the night when Micky was killed. He was not the crying type. Seeing him in a rage was fine but sobbing uncontrollably was something else.

Davy was the first to rush over to the fallen Texan, kneeling and putting his arm around him, hoping to be able to provide comfort to Mike for once. "There, there Mike, It wasn't your fault." Peter joined Davy next to the Texan. "Yea Mike... it's not." Peter, seeing Mike crying so hard, felt himself unable to hold back his own tears

Davy felt tears streaming down his own face. He, to, blamed himself for Micky's fate. "It's my fault. I should 'ave heard. I'm on the same floor even." Peter shook his head. "I'm a light sleeper AND sleep on the same floor. I should have heard. It's all my fault. I knew something bad was going to happen."

After about ten minutes Mike found himself able to stop his tears again, soon followed by the others. He was about to open his mouth to speak when they heard something, or someone, behind them.

"It's none of your guys' faults."

The other three thought they were hearing things. It sounded like Micky. As one they turned and what they saw was a very see-through Micky. As if his form was made of a gas of some sort.

Mike's throat went dry. Was he imagining things?

Davy found his voice first "But Micky, your..."

The apparition finished the sentence. "Dead. I know. I was there. But it's really me guys."

Peter looked like he believed the figure, it looked like Micky and sounded like Micky. "So.... that means you're a ghost?"

Micky shrugged a bit. "Sorta. Being a ghost means I'd be stuck like this here on earth but I'm not. So it's taking a lot of energy to talk to you guys right now. But I wanted to tell you that I love you all. You're like brothers and have meant so much to me. But I'm ok. You guys shouldn't be sad or worried. It's kinda groovy being dead ya know? No more boredom."

The ghost-Micky laughed. It was definatly Micky. But that laugh was exactly the laugh Micky used when trying to lie. Mike caught this first. "Micky, I know that's not true."

Micky lost the fake smile and sighed. "Yea... actually it's really boring and I can't even play the drums since you are all still alive. I just don't want you guys to worry about me."

Peter and Mike nodded, Davy thought of something. "Micky isn't there ANY way to bring you back? I mean. I remember I dated a witch kinda girl once. But she studied white magic. I coulda sworn she said that if someone is killed by a black magic like voodoo then there is a way to bring 'em back."

Mike's and Peter's eyes brightened. What if they could-

Micky shook his head. "You can do it but it's really dangerous. You guys would have to go to her house. Her real house I mean. She has an apartment here to look normal but she actually lives in a castle kinda mansion on Dead Hill about an hours drive. You guys would have to face her. It's to dangerous. You guys might end up like me."

Peter frowned, "But Micky, it could bring you back to us. What would we have to do?"

Micky shrugged again. "See, I don't know. But I don't want you guys to be in danger. I'm fine. And I just want you guys to be fine to"

He paused and a mischievous grin spread across the transparent face. "I hope you guys haven't touched my construction. It should go in a museum dedicated to me."

He and his friends shared a laugh as Micky faded off again.

When the young boys on the floor recovered more from their laughter, Micky was gone.

Peter looked to the floor "I.... guess we should honor his last request."

Mike stared at the ground in thought for a moment, then stood, brushing himself off. "I have a phone call I need to make. "

With that he grabbed the red telephone and took it into the downstairs bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

After a good twenty minutes he emerged from the room and placed the phone back in it's place.

Peter and Davy had gotten up from the floor and was in the sitting area around the coffee table. Peter's curiosity got the best of him as Mike came out of the bedroom. "Who did you need to call Mike?"

Mike cleared his throat. "Ah, Silvia..." Davy thought a moment. "Wait a' minute... that's my ex... the one who studies that magic stuff." Mike nodded in affirmation. He then grabbed his jacket and started for the door.

Peter stood "Where are you going Mike?" He was getting worried about Mike's sudden actions. It wasn't like him to head off somewhere in the middle of the night. Mike sighed. He couldn't not tell them. "I'm going to go get Micky back."

Peter looked slightly hurt. "But Micky's last wish was for us to not do that. You could die, Michael."

Mike shook his head. "No he just didn't want us doing it. His last wish was technically for us to be fine. And I won't be fine unless Micky's back." Davy stood now. "But if you die Mike...... Daphne's dangerous... She could kill you just as easily as she did Micky...." His voice lowered now "Man, I don't think if I could stand loosing another of you guys."

Mike let his head drop. "I know. But I just can't stand knowing I did nothing to be able to help him before. Micky misses us and we miss him. I gotta try man."

Mike looked at his friends pleadingly. He wouldn't go if they refused to let him. He couldn't abandon them. But he really felt he needed to do this.

Peter and Davy stared at him for a long moment. Peter was the first to speak this time. "I'm coming with you." Peter's voice held none of the shaken up tears it had moments ago. It startled Mike just a little as Peter was the most passive and sensitive of the quartet... or trio. Davy spoke up seconds after Peter, voice just as strong, "Me to."

Mike opened his mouth to protest. Peter cut him off. "No Mike... I'm... we're coming with you."
Davy nodded. "Yea. If you're putting yourself at risk for this then so are we. We're a group and we won't let you do this alone."

Mike knew that nothing he said would change their minds. So he nodded. Part of him was glad to have the company and support from them but another part of him was afraid for their safety.

Peter and Davy gathered their own jackets now and followed Mike to the Monkee Mobile. Soon they were on the road.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Just another note:
Just letting it be known. I know that it's technically spelled 'magik' to those who really study it... while 'magic' is basically just seen as card tricks and harry potter.
I think using magic is more appropriate though since it includes things that are not supposed to be possible under magik rules from what I know of. White or dark. Since this is more the sorcery kinda magic.
I'm just throwing this in there cause I know some people do in fact study magik (I knew a couple people at school and internets) and I wanted to make it clear that I do know the correct term and practice.

Another of another note:
No i don't study magik or magic or anything like that.

Last note:
This chapter was a lot longer then I excepted lol