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My muscles seemed to unravel and relax all at once. My throat opened up and accepted more of the warm liquid being poured into it. I couldn't deny the sudden feeling of delight as a gentle 'dizziness' came over me from my unrestricted drinking, especially when this was such a new experience for me. To be totally honest...I LIKED it! For the first time, it didn't feel like I was 'drowning' anymore. It felt more like a baptism. A rebirth into a new state of awareness that made me feel...'good' for a change. I hated to be a part of the typical drunken teenager stereotype. I had been fighting it off for so long that the very idea of it disgusted me. I never had any intentions of falling into that trap, just to become some fucked up speed bump on the road of life. I let the tv slogans and church sermons tell me that one sip of alcohol was going to not only ruin the rest of my life, but it would cause me to burn in Hell long after my 'life' was over. That's what they told me, and that's what I believed. But, somehow....it didn't feel all that 'wicked' to me at that moment. I fact, I felt just fine! I was having a good time! There were no demons poking me in the side with a pitchfork telling me to do it. No peers forcing me by pressing the bottle to my lips. I 'chose' to drink. I felt the full power of my freedom of choice....and I decided to take a chance. And the consequences weren't NEARLY as severe as I imagined they would be. If anything, they were pretty much nonexistant at this point. Figments of my imagination. An imagination fueled by brainwashed prophets and fear inducing propaganda. Sanctimonious boozers like Father Mackenzie. Psh! How could I be so misled? I allowed an alcoholic priest, pretending to be perfect and 'blessed' and better than the rest of us, teach me about the dangers and pitfalls of his favorite addiction....and I absorbed it all without question. Without ever asking why. Exactly like Cyrus said. I've taken the word of hypocrites and fanatics, and tuned out that little honest voice in the back of my own mind that was screaming for attention. Trying desperately to claw its way to the surface and show me the light. The light that only Cyrus could bring to my life. After ll these years, he seems to be the only one who's ever attempted to tell me the TRUTH. Without the sugarcoating, without discouragement...without judgement, or discomfort, or lack of detail. He told me a straightforward truth, and provided me my every pleasure without hesittion. What other adult in my life can make the same claim? They'd all rather see me be a fucking child forever....and I'm NOT! Cyrus LISTENS to me! He takes value in what I have to say, and he doesn't try to change or control who I am for his own benefit. Hw could I not want to be a part of his world? How could I not want him to be a part of mine?

I looked up to see Kriegar giving me a crooked smile that got wider as our eyes connected. He was almost snickering at my sudden indulgence in alcohol, and it caused a huge smile to break out on my face as well. I lazily gave him the finger and took another healthy swig out of the bottle. The back of he truck shared a few giggles of approval, and I felt my lips getting slightly numb from the drink. But it was the feeling inside that really got to me. Ohhhh, wow. Hehehe, that giggly feeling of bubbly cheerfulness was rising up under my ribs, making me want to laugh outloud. It was a truly liberating sensation, and it was suddenly so easy to tap into. So easy to achieve a smile that I could really 'feel' in the depths of my soul. It just...freed me up from so much trivial bullshit that I had on my mind before, you know? And that can really be a soothing feeling when you spend so much of your life allowing worry and paranoia and restraint keep you from that genuine smile for such long periods of time. I found something truly special in the midst of all these confusing new sensations. It was this strange level of.....peace. Peace....with myself. It's so hard to explain if you haven't experienced it on your own. It's like...this intoxicated realization that I'm...ok. Seriously ok. And that I didn't have to be anything more than I was at that particular moment. I didn't have to hide anything, I didn't have to be ashamed of anything, I didn't have to improve on anything. With all of my father's lectures and lessons...I never really reached a point where I felt good enough for much more than going through my predictable routine of a life. School, church, homework, household chores...nothing about my life ever inspired me to reach further. But now? Now I had something intriguing to shoot for. Something I was willing to fight to achieve. And the alcohol seemed to make that so blatantly clear to me with every enchanting sip. I could have gone through years of therapy and an entire bookshelf of 'self help' books to get my less than average self esteem back on track...or...I could finish this bottle of drink and let the self esteem come easy. Wow...I can't believe that I just said that.

Something about this magic liquid made me feel more in control the more I drank it. The more that I lost my hand/eye coordination. The more my giggles became more spontaneous than I wanted them to be. My feelings of awkwardness and insecurity melted away, leaving only the carefree sensation of happy tingles and good times behind. Hahahaha! Omigod...it was AWESOME! I could hardly feel my FACE anymore! I kept touching it with my hand, but the nerve endings wouldn't really respond. What the HELL, man? Hehehe, his is SO wrong! But DAMN, did it felt good! The wind was blowing through my hair, I had a really cute, but slightly crazy, gay boy with soft curly blond hair clinging to my side, and I had just beaten up some kid twice my size with no effort at all! I heard myself giggle, and had to physically cover my mouth to stop it. Everyone else took notice and laughed with me, but I still tried to keep my uncontrollable laughter to a minimum. I even held my breath for a second or two. But with one more tilt of the bottle and a couple of hearty gulps, the remaining liquor was gone, and my drinking arm fell limply to my side.

The bottle made a loud 'clink' as it fell to the metal floor of the back of the truck. Kriegar grinned, all of his gleaming white teeth visible for the first time since I first met him at Rainbow's End. "We've got more if you want it, junior!" He told me.

"Hehehe, whatchya got?" I asked, my tongue not working as efficiently to form words as it was before. Geez, this was weird. It was like...being a 'passenger' in my own body. Just looking out of my eyes while some other force took over. And this.....this other 'person'....was so much cooler than I was. He took everything so easy, without doubt, or fear, or....that horrible gut feeling that everything was going to go terribly wrong if I wasn't careful every SECOND of the day! Is this why people drink? Is this what it feels like everytime? If I was my dad or Father Mackenzie....I'd wanna feel this way every day too.

I saw Kriegar move forward, and dig around in the covered milk crate beside me. And he pulled out a random bottle that had the label ripped off, but was filled with a liquid that sparkled like gold. "Here ya go, pretty boy. Have at it." He said, and he tossed me the bottle. I reached out to catch it, but my reflexes were a lot slower than I remembered, and my numb fingers fumbled the bottle until I caught it in my lap. The look of my clumsy little circus act got them to laugh at me, and I giggled as well, taking the little red 'twisty' top off of it and spiking it down on the floor beneath my feet.

It was at this point that John Boy slid down from his position, and came over to sit next to me on the spare tire in the back. He made sure to sit on my left side, seeing as Dexter had a complete monopoly on the right. He didn't hug up to me so much, but I felt my head lean lazily to the side to rest on his shoulder anyway. It made me comfortable to have that extra help with my balance, even sitting down. I took my first sip from the new bottle, and the golden liquid stung my lips and tongue, causing me to wrinkle up my brow and frown my lips up involuntarily. "Ooooh...this one is 'spice-aaaayyyyy'! Hehehehe!"

John Boy gently raised his hand to take the bottle from my lips and put it in my lap. "Easy there, little hobo. Every indulgence has its consequence." He told me with a delicate smile.

Kriegar piped in immediately. "Aw, come on, JB! Let him live a little, don't start mothering him already." Kriegar looked me in the eye. "You've got MAGIC in you, kid. Did you all see what he did back there? No hesitation, no regret. That's exactly what the fuck I'm talking about! That little piece of shit didn't even get a swing in! Wesley tore him down from the bottom up, and he stayed 'pretty' doing it!" He raved. "There just might be a somewhat decent wolf in you yet, boy!"

I smiled back at Kriegar, and took another healthy dose of the drink before John Boy helped me lower the bottle again. "Trust me, Wesley...you'll lose your liver, both kidneys, and your thyroid, trying to drink as much as Kriegar does on a daily basis. So take it slow, ok? You're still developing. We need you to be strong for us."

"Stay strong? Hehehe, what are you talking about?" I said, closing my eyes for a moment, feeling the wind rush over us.

"Just listen when I tell you to take it easy. Ok?" He asked, and I hesitated for a moment before I nodded in agreement. I was gonna look for the twist cap on the floor of the truck, but as soon as I thought it, Razor saw it sitting next to his foot. He kicked it towards us with his foot...and John Boy easily caught it one handed without looking. He handed it to me, and I almost commented on how cool it was to see him do things like that all the time. But I guess I should be getting used to his amazing feats by now. Or I should at least pretend to be.

I fidgeted a little bit in my set, some more discomfort setting in as a bit of my fever returned. John Boy raised his head and put his hand on my chest. "How are you feeling?"

"Alright, I guess. I don't know. It kinda feels like....like my hands are on fire." I said, feeling the burning and itching on the back of my swollen knuckles.

John Boy, calm as ever, replied, "It's just your healing factor kicking in. The regeneration process is quick, but the amount of body heat it generates can be pretty intense...depending on the injury." He said. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it. Soon, it won't seem any more uncomfortable than a hot flash on a warm summer day."

I wasn't quite sure that what he was saying was really making any sense, but the slight dizziness didn't allow me to concentrate on it too hard. "I suppose I deserve it for pounding that guy, huh?" I said. "You wanna know something weird, dude? I don't even remember why I did it. I mean...I literally can't recall what got me so mad in the first place." John Boy didn't respond. No one did. But he did give me a crooked grin. "Whatever, right? At least now my knuckles will match the bruises on my face from last night, huh?"

I saw my reflection in John Boy's sunglasses, and was surprised when he happily asked me..."What bruises?"

It seemed like such an odd question at first. Like, how could he not know what I was talking about? Granted, he's blind, but he HAD to have heard me getting my ass wailed on at Rainbow's End last night. Sure...I won the fight, but not without taking some rather painful hits myself. However...after just a moment of doubt, I ran my tongue over the surface of my lips and noticed...that they were completely smooth again. I was sure that Quinn had busted it wide open last night. I should be suffering in agony for the rest of the week. But...it was gone. Cured completely. Miraculously void of any trace of damage. My hand reached up, and my eye, once puffy and black, seemed normal as well too. In fact, my whole face was back to normal. My first thought was that the alcohol had just numbed me to the point of not noticing it...but as it turns out, that wasn't the case. I sat up straight and looked back through the window of the truck, catching my reflection in the rearview mirror. My face...my skin....hell, even my HAIR, was neatly tucked back into the exact same way that it looked before last night. It almost looked better. It crossed my mind that I might not have really taken as bad a beating as I thought I had....but it still didn't make any sense. How could I possibly have healed up that quick? How? I mean there wasn't a single scrape or bruise on me anywhere.

"Sit, Wesley. Relax." John Boy said softly. "Those marks were gone before you even came home last night. And the ones you get today will be gone even faster. Just allow nature to run its course and you'll be good as new in no time." My brain attempted to process this, and couldn't come up with a reasonably sane answer. Not yet anyway. The heated fever in my hands got a bit worse, and I shook them a bit, as though the wind from the movement could somehow help to diminish the burn. At this point, John Boy reached for the bottle in my lap, and took a healthy swig of it himself. He made sure to put his other hand far up on the inside of my thigh, his fingertips grazing my covered pouch as he raised the bottle to my lips for me to drink again. Just a little bit. "You'll be getting hungry soon. You should get something to stabilize you until the time comes. It can hit you awfully hard the first few times."

That last sip nearly caused me to sway bck away from the bottle. And a huge intoxicated grin slid from ear to ear on my face. "Actually...'hic'...that sounds like a good idea. I'm actually kinda hungry anyway." I grinned. I tried to wiggle my way up to knock on the back window. "Hey! Hey, Cyrus...dude...! We gotta go get food..."

John Boy gently pulled me back down. "You don't have to get his attention, Wesley. He knows. We'll be stopping once we find someplace...a little more secluded." The wicked grin that he gave me somehow compelled me to mirror the expression with ease. It almost seemed sinister, but something about that gave me a rush, and my senses heightened up all at once. And my appetite increased. Not just for 'food' either.

John Boy was only a year younger than me at thirteen...but he had the innocent and pretty face of a ten year old altar boy, thin rimmed sunglasses and all. "Hehehe...you're really cute, you know that?" I said, feeling the liquor swimming in my system.

"I'm afraid I'll have to take your word on that." He smiled, raising his glasses to show the silver mirrored contacts beneath to remind me.

"Can I kiss you?" Normally, it's not a question that I'd ever have the guts to ask. But that magic liquid took the fear away, if only for a moment.

"I'm surprised you haven't learned by now, Wesley. If you want it, you can have it. Asking the question is merely a delay of desire." He said, his pretty young lips moving slightly closer to me. "Am I right?"

I nodded, and without further hesitation, I closed my eyes...and pressed my lips urgently up against his.

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