a poet's heart.

It was raining. It often was in the spring and summer, when the heat made the air sticky and the thunder rumbled behind the clouds. Baz didn’t mind it much. If they’d hated the rain, they wouldn’t have done well in London, where the skies were gray and dreary far more often than they were here in Maine. Today’s rain was a quiet kind, though forecasts called for it to turn into something more exciting later on. Baz hoped to be at home before the lightning started. They weren’t afraid of thunderstorms, but they found the idea of being cozy in their pajamas and listening to the rumble shake the walls to be an appealing one, some quiet excitement thrumming in their chest at the thought of it. Maybe they’d make a cup of tea; that, too, was a tempting thought.

Cutting through the graveyard might not have been wise. They knew, after all, what sort of things went bump in the night in Wicked’s Rest, had experienced far too many of them to claim ignorance. But the graveyard would cut a good fifteen minutes off their route, and they liked the look of the crypts when the rain hit them. They’d taken to carrying holy water and an ugly cross, anyway, hoping to prevent any accidents while hanging out with Jenny. Whatever lurked in the cemetery would probably leave them alone — they didn’t think themself an ‘attackable’ sort of person despite any evidence to the contrary — but if it didn’t, they’d be able to take care of themself just fine.

Still, the sight of a figure near a crypt made them a bit nervous. They prepared to make a wide berth around them, just in case it was whatever sort of vampire lurked in cemeteries on rainy afternoons. (Not Jenny’s kind, they were sure of it. She had more class than that. Whatever sort had attacked them in Metzli’s gallery last year, maybe, though they tried not to think of that experience in the same way they tried not to think of any experience they found unenjoyable.) As they got closer to the figure, though, they recognized it as at least outwardly human. Whoever it was seemed to be inspecting the side of a crypt, and Baz squinted at them uncertainly. Odd weather for a mourner. But… there was something familiar about the posture, wasn’t there? And the hair, even wet. 

Recognition struck them, and their shoulders relaxed immediately. Rather than continuing their path around the figure, they moved towards it. “Daniel!” They called out with a grin, offering him a wave. “Fancy seeing you out here. Why on Earth are you sniffing round a cemetery in the rain? It’s meant to storm, you know.”

—

Daniel tended to avoid cemeteries as much as he could. They still made him uneasy. Gave him a sinking feeling in his gut. They were just a place, but that place still set him on edge. Even after hunting with Emilio in cemeteries, he still felt wary about stepping foot in these places. But he smelled that crisp, fresh scent in the air alerting him to an oncoming storm. He wanted to get back to his truck before the downpour, and the soft drizzle of raindrops against his arms told him that he should hurry before he ended up drenched. He could either go for a longer walk around the area, or take a shortcut through the cemetery. He shoved away those uneasy feelings and stepped into the cemetery. He hurried through it, focusing only on getting to the other side to his truck. 

He paused as soon as he felt that tingle in his spine. Not a shifter. He knew that much. He glanced around the cemetery, attempting to spot whatever beast lurked nearby. He didn’t see anything at first, and he returned to walking before the feeling grew stronger. Something shuffled nearby, he thought maybe in a crypt. Daniel was retired from hunting. He knew to not go around killing unless he or someone else was in danger. But that didn’t stop him from being curious when he sensed something. 

He walked closer to the crypt, that feeling only growing stronger. Something was in there, and it was moving around a little bit, as if slowly waking up. Daniel knew how easy it would be to just keep on walking and remove himself from the situation. Probably the better choice. He always had weapons on him—he might be retired and in love with a werewolf, but he wasn’t an idiot when it came to safety—but he knew that he might not have all the tools necessary for whatever might be waking up in the crypt. 

Thunder rumbled off in the distance. A low rumble. If he had to guess it was maybe five or six miles away from him. At the sound of the rumble, whatever was in the crypt moved a little more. A little faster, he thought, as if the thunder was waking it up. He grimaced at that realization. Daniel wasn’t scared of what beast he thought might be waking up to the sound of thunder and lightning, but he wasn’t exactly in hunting mode. If he left before it fully woke up, then it wouldn’t be his problem. He still had a bit of time before the thunder and lightning reached him. 

Right as he was about to finish his shortcut, he heard someone walking through the cemetery. Maybe this beast was suddenly about to become his problem. Daniel groaned as soon as he heard that familiar voice calling out his name. He turned around. “Hey,” he said. “Oh, uh, just cutting through. Shortcut.” He motioned in the direction he had been headed. “Thought I saw something.” He placed his hands on his hips. “Why are you … Doesn’t matter. We should both get out of here before that lightning gets any closer.” 

A flash of light in the sky caught his eye. He counted the seconds—fifteen—until the thunder rumbled. Three miles. “It’s moving fast. Come on.” The beast inside the crypt moved louder now; Daniel thought it might be heard by any human—or, well, doppelganger, he guessed. A loud creak came from the crypt as if the beast was starting its journey out of its sleeping spot. 

—

Daniel seemed a bit nervous, and Baz wondered if he might be afraid of thunderstorms. It seemed odd, for someone who spent as much time outdoors as Daniel needed to for his work, didn’t it? Weren’t thunderstorms a relatively normal phenomenon, the kind of thing a man who worked outdoors would run into often? A million questions rose to the forefront of Baz’s mind, though they asked none of them. If Daniel was afraid of thunderstorms, he might not appreciate having it pointed out aloud. And Baz certainly didn’t want to upset Daniel. They liked Daniel, and they wanted Daniel to like them, too, even if he wasn’t interested in sleeping with them anymore. 

“It’s a way’s off, yeah?” They asked, trying to help settle Daniel’s nerves a bit. They knew nothing about tracking thunderstorms, but they’d been outdoors in weather identical to this countless times and had never witnessed a lightning strike in close contact, so they were certain that this meant the storm was still some distance away. Daniel’s nerves only seemed to be increasing, though. Had he taken this shortcut in the interest of outrunning the storm? 

Baz was about to offer some more baseless reassurance when the sound of something inside the crypt caught their attention. It was certainly something moving, something shifting around in a way one might not expect anything to do from within a crypt. Daniel was clearly getting a bit more worked up, but curiosity tugged at Baz’s gut, pulling them towards the crypt. They thought of Jenny, who had been their introduction into actually caring about the undead. “Do you think there’s someone in there?” They questioned, concern coloring their tone. “If there’s danger of lightning striking, we really ought to get them out, yeah? It’s probably not entirely safe.” And fire was particularly dangerous to the undead, wasn’t it?

—

Daniel shrugged, knowing that it was a bit further away, but that didn’t stop the rain, as it fell harder and faster from the sky. The storm could travel fast, and if his guess was right about what was in the crypt, it didn’t really matter how far the storm was. “I guess, but … still not good to be out like this in case lightning strikes.” He motioned at the trees towering around them. “Worst spot to be during lightning.” 

He hoped that maybe that would convince Baz to follow along with him. And he hoped that the loud movements of something big within the crypt would convince them to get out of here. Instead, they moved closer and seemed worried about someone being in danger. “I doubt it,” Daniel replied. “It’s probably just rats or something. Don’t know what a human would be doing down there anyway.” The thunder rumbled off in the distance again. He had missed the lightning strike, but he guessed it was still far enough away from them. 

If Baz wanted to stick around and find out exactly what lurked inside the crypt, then Daniel would let them. This was not his problem. He liked Baz well-enough, but he also knew that he had lied to them, back when they told him that they were fae—a doppelganger. He kept his own identity secret and acted like he had never heard of the existence of fae. Even asked questions as if it were all brand new information for him. And later slept with them too. (Daniel knew he didn’t usually make the best decisions.) “I got somewhere I gotta be though, so …” He turned on his heel to get away from the situation before the beast slithered out of the crypt. 

He took one step forward, and as the mud squished under his boot, the beast banged against the crypt’s door. Daniel sucked in a breath as he looked over his shoulder and heard the banging sound again, as it slammed its body against the door. The door hinges rattled, and a couple fell to the ground. Another slam, and the door fell with a loud clang, right as thunder boomed. Daniel thought about which weapons he had on him—he could make do, he knew that, but his real arsenal was in his truck bed. If he could make it there—no, if he and Baz could make it there, then maybe he could deal with this beast. 

—

“The worst place? Surely it’s not the worst place,” Baz replied, flashing a grin brighter than the lightning. “What about a metal roof! Surely that would be a bit worse, wouldn’t it? Metal and electricity’s a bad combo, yeah?” Their expression made it clear that they were only teasing. They hoped it might ease Daniel’s mind a bit, if he was afraid of the storm. They liked Daniel, and they thought people they liked ought not have to be afraid. Baz couldn’t offer much in way of protection, but they were very skilled in the art of distraction. Distracting Daniel from the storm seemed as good a way as any to help him through it.

Of course, that concern for Daniel outweighed any concern for the nameless, faceless, maybe-undead person in the crypt. Baz was still hesitant to leave them, but only because their mind kept fluttering back to thoughts of Jenny. “Well, it might not be someone human,” they pointed out. “Human’s not the default, you know.” They forgot that Daniel, despite living in this town and working in the woods, seemed to know very little about how things operated here. Did he even know about the undead? Christ, was Baz meant to explain it to him? That would be a right laugh — Baz as the one explaining undeath to a human! What would they even say? 

Except… maybe Daniel wasn’t interested in learning more. He seemed more interested in walking away, which was both a relief and a disappointment. Baz didn’t want to have to explain more supernatural shenanigans to a human who evidently knew nothing of them at all, but they also didn’t want to be left alone with the crypt. They had some concern for whatever undead thing might be in there, sure, but not enough to face it on their own. They’d seen Jenny when she lost control, seen Metzli angry. They knew they didn’t want to be alone with someone undead who might also be hungry. 

They skirted after Daniel, circling around to stand in front of him (either to walk with him as a shield between themself and the crypt or to convince them to help them get it open, they weren’t sure which), but before they could open their mouth to say anything, the pounding on the crypt’s door grew louder. Any inclination Baz might have had to help whatever was in the crypt evaporated as the door fell to the ground, and they ducked behind Daniel with a squeak, making sure the man stood firmly between them and the crypt. “On second thought, you’re right! We should get out of this storm. We’ll catch a cold!” They tugged at Daniel as a large snake slithered out of the crypt, setting its eyes on the pair. “Oh! Look at that! That’s! Something!”

—

Daniel raised his brow at first, and he chuckled as Baz grinned at him. “I mean, it definitely ain’t a good place to be. People get killed standing under trees.” He guessed it would be difficult to convince Baz to hurry out of this situation. Unless he just tossed them over his shoulder and carried him off, but that seemed excessive to him.

Of course Baz pointed out that it might not be a human in the crypt. Daniel sighed. He already knew it wasn’t human and could tell from how his senses felt that it wasn’t a shifter. “Right,” he said with a nod of his head. “But it still sounds more like rats to me.” He was not going to get into all of the different types of supernatural beings with Baz, not when he needed to keep his own existence as secretive as possible. He liked chatting with Baz, but at the end of the day, Daniel knew that he didn’t know him all that well. He couldn’t be certain how they would take to him being a hunter. Would it matter at all if he said he was retired, as if that meant anything at all?

Daniel wasn’t surprised when Baz decided to stick by his side. He was even less surprised when they used his body as a shield, again. He thought again to the stymphalian bird and Baz hiding behind him to keep away from the bird with a craving for fae. Someone using Daniel as protection wasn’t anything new to the ranger, who had been in situation after situation like this with humans relying on him to keep them safe. 

The beast’s deep green scales, burning yellow eyes, and large slithering body confirmed Daniel’s suspicions. A beithir. Slowly waking up from its slumber as the lightning and thunder grew closer. He should have acted faster—he should have tossed Baz over his shoulder, ignoring any protest, and got out of here. Daniel edged backwards as he felt them tugging on him, though he kept his gaze on the beithir as it groggily blinked at them. “Yeah, it’s something,” he replied, speaking softly as he continued stepping backwards. 

His eyes searched the cemetery for any sharp object that could be turned into a weapon. He doubted there’d be time to get to his truck. He had his knives, of course, but he wanted something bigger against a beast this size. A spade leaning against a mausoleum caught his eye. That could work. Enough length with the handle between him and the beast. He’d just have to get it before the beithir sprung at them. “I’m gonna get that spade,” Daniel said, motioning with his head towards the garden tool. “You should probably stay close to me.” 

—

A tree falling on you did sound like a fairly embarrassing way to die, which meant Baz was even less keen on it than they might have been otherwise. (And they were already against it; Baz disliked the idea of death in general. They’d already decided they would never do it themself.) “I suppose,” they agreed with a long, put upon sigh. 

Of course, that didn’t mean they were entirely convinced. They didn’t share Daniel’s conviction that it was rats in the crypt, though they didn’t fault him for thinking so. Daniel was new to the supernatural, wasn’t he? He was a human with the mind of a human, and that was the sort of thing predisposed to look for mundane explanations to things. Of course he thought it was rats; Every bit of upbringing he had probably reinforced the idea, insisting that it couldn’t be anything more complex than that. Baz knew better, of course. Baz knew too much to feel entirely comfortable leaving the crypt to crumble.

At least, until it became obvious that the thing in the crypt wasn’t the friendly sort of monster. It could have been some sort of shifter, they supposed — they thought reptilian types were a thing, though they knew little about them — but that hardly mattered to Baz in the moment. What mattered to Baz was the fact that they were afraid, and didn’t want to be. What mattered to Baz was the fact that they’d like to get away from something unpleasant, and they’d like Daniel to be the one to stand between them and it even if they were never sure whether or not Daniel even liked them. (They’d known he had when they slept together, but then he’d said he hadn’t wanted that anymore. Baz only ever really knew they were wanted when it was in a physical sense. They weren’t entirely certain how to function when they weren’t.)

Daniel, for his part, didn’t seem as shocked as Baz might have expected by the beast that burst free from the crypt. Baz had thought there would be screams, but Daniel was as level headed as ever. Maybe this was his defense mechanism, the way he coped with the impossible. Some people were like that, weren’t they? At least he wasn’t frozen in fear. He was moving with Baz, towards… something. Had Daniel driven here? Was there a shed nearby they could shelter in? There must have been something. 

They stayed practically glued to him as he seemed to scan the cemetery. But rather than announce he’d found them a safe place to hide, Daniel announced he’d go for a spade. Evidently, he was more keen on fighting the snake. Baz didn’t care how they got away from the thing, so long as Baz themself escaped unharmed. (They’d like Daniel unharmed, too, but if only one of the pair of them could get out unscathed…) “Right!” They agreed, gripping Daniel’s arm. “Stay close to you. I can do that. Yeah. Ah, what’s the plan, exactly? Are you going to… hit it with a shovel? I trust your judgment, of course, but I’m not sure how sound that is.”

—

The large snake slithered its way out as thunder boomed above them. Daniel cursed under his breath, waiting for it to spring on them. Most of his hunts with beasts like this were when they slept, when they were fast asleep in their deep slumber, easy enough to take a sword and chop off their head. He rarely had to hunt and kill one that was awake, and it had been years—maybe almost a decade—since he had been in a situation like this. He was still quick and fast on his feet, though he knew that he was just a bit slower now—sore shoulder, legs that had taken too many beatings, body exhausted from years of fighting. He guessed that he would be fine, but Baz? They didn’t strike Daniel as a fighter, especially as they clung to his arm as he stepped over to the spade. 

“The plan? Oh, um,” he trailed off for a moment, trying to think of how to word what he was going to say next. “I think we should kill it, yeah? It looks dangerous. If I’m lucky, the spade will be sharp enough to cut through it.” If he was lucky. Daniel was taking a lot of chances on his luck with this. If that didn’t work, he had his knives to make do until they reached his truck, where he could grab a sword. 

He grabbed the spade and lifted it up, running his finger along the edge of the blade. It was sharp—maybe not sharp enough for his tastes, but still sharp. Daniel had made due with improvised weapons plenty of times in his life, so why not a garden spade against a beithir? It wasn’t even the largest beithir he’d ever seen in his life. It’d be fine, he was certain.

Before he could explain what he was going to do next, the beithir launched itself at the two of them, its mouth wide open and fangs on full display. Daniel grabbed Baz as he pulled them with him out of the way, as fast as he could with the doppelganger behind him. The beithir slithered again towards them. Daniel held the spade like a baseball bat and whacked the beast’s head, knocking it away from them. “How fast can you run?” Daniel asked as his eyes stayed on the beast hissing and curling as it prepared for another strike. “If we can get to my truck, we can get out of here.” He wasn’t going to mention just yet that his plan was to still kill this beast, but with a better weapon than a spade. 

—

They were struck with the memory of Daniel and the fae eating bird that had attacked them in the swamp, the way he’d jumped into action so quickly. This seemed similar. There was no real hesitation, no moment of consideration. He was prepared to brandish a spade as a weapon and fight a giant snake without question. Baz assumed he saw all sorts of things in his job in the woods — a hiking guide in Wicked’s Rest was sure to see more than his fair share of oddities — but was that really enough to explain this readiness? Was it possible that there was more to Daniel than met the eye? He wasn’t fae, but maybe he was something else. Something more capable of protecting Baz. They liked that idea quite a bit.

“Kill it isn’t much of a plan, is it?” They squeaked, uncertain even if they trusted Daniel a fair bit. Didn’t they need to have something more substantial than ‘kill it’ as a course of action here? How would they kill it? Baz wasn’t sure they were content in crossing their fingers and hoping Daniel’s luck held up long enough to save their arse. 

Daniel, though, seemed content in his plan as it was. He grabbed the spade and felt along the edge as if testing it, as if that was all he needed. Surely there was a better weapon somewhere, wasn’t there? An axe, maybe, or some sort of scythe! Didn’t they have those sorts of things in cemeteries? Didn’t —

The snake launched towards them, and Baz screeched in terror as Daniel pulled them out of the way. He positioned Baz behind them, which was just fine with the doppelganger — they’d have thrown themself in that direction if Daniel hadn’t put them there to begin with, after all. They clung to his back, which probably didn’t help him as he swung his shovel, but he hit the snake, anyway, and that was all that mattered. “I’m fast!” They squealed, and it was true. As someone whose go-to response to danger was to run away from it with everything they had, Baz had learned how to move quickly over the years, no matter what body they were inhabiting. And Sebastian had been fit. He was plenty capable of running away. “Where’s your truck parked? You should give me the keys. So I can unlock it, if I get there before you.”

—

Killing it was the only plan right then. Killing wasn't always the only plan; sometimes, Daniel attempted other plans that left a beast alive if it wasn't posing an active risk. He didn't want to kill every single supernatural being if it was just living its life. After the ahuizotl attack against Talia, he tried to remind himself of this even more--though, to Daniel, it still made the most sense that he had to kill that beast for trying to kill Talia. It had been a threat that needed to be dealt with. 

Now he stared down the beithir, another threat that needed to be dealt with. He knew there were technically two options for this situation: killing it or letting it kill them. The latter wasn't a real option for him, which left only killing it. 

The sharp spade in his hand was the best weapon he could find in such a short amount of time. Its long wooden handle settled into Daniel's hardened hands, and the sharp edge was good enough for him. He knew how to turn just about anything into a weapon--his eyes knew how to search perimeters until they settled on an option. If worst came to worst, his own hands could be a weapon. He was the weapon, when he really thought about it. 

Baz said they were fast, and Daniel had to take them at their word for that. He'd already been caught in two situations with Baz that he sort of knew how they reacted to danger, but he thought that running away from the problem might be best for them right now. His plan paused for a moment as Baz suggested that he give them his truck keys. Just a few quick seconds as he considered how well he knew Baz. They probably would get there before him, giving them enough time to unlock the truck. But did they know how to drive it? Would they try to drive away with all of his weapons, leaving him with just his makeshift weapon? 

He shoved his hand into his pants pocket and handed Baz his keys, while never taking his eyes off the beast slithering towards them again. "Follow that path to the gate. Red truck. Covered in dirt. Unlock the tailgate too. I'll keep it away from you." 

—

Daniel made no comment regarding their doubts, which neither eased Baz’s mind nor made the tightened ball of anxiety in their chest any worse. Sure, Daniel had proven himself against the bird in the swamp, but he’d had a gun there. And a bird was a far shout from a giant, crypt-dwelling snake, wasn’t it? The fact that Daniel seemed relatively level-headed was the only thing providing Baz with any semblance of confidence towards his ability to protect them. He either knew how to handle this, or he was completely delusional. And from everything Baz had experienced with him thus far, they weren’t sure Daniel was fun enough to be delusional.

He looked nice enough holding the shovel, though Baz still didn’t want it to be the last thing they ever saw. (They tried not to think about what the last thing they ever saw might be but, here lately, they’d often thought they might like it to be Jenny. It was all terribly romantic, really. Part of them wished she was here now, but part of them saw the giant, hideous snake and was increasingly glad she wasn’t.) Baz wasn’t sure the shovel was the best weapon to use against the snake, though they didn’t see a better one. Why didn’t Daniel carry his gun with him all the time? Wasn’t he American? 

At the very least, he seemed willing enough to hand the truck keys over. Baz sensed a hint of hesitation first, which they could freely admit was probably fair. The only thing preventing them from taking off in Daniel’s truck was the fact that they didn’t really know how to drive, and weren’t sure they could learn on the fly like this. (If they got to the truck and it seemed like Daniel was a lost cause, they might still try it. Baz was uninterested in dying; less so in dying at the fangs of a massive snake.)

The moment the keys were in their hands, Baz took off, Daniel’s instructions ringing in their ears. True to their word, they were fast, the fear and adrenaline coming together to form a cocktail that drove them forward at an impressive speed. They jumped over a gravestone, dodged a mausoleum, brushed by a hideous statue. The gate stretched out in front of them and, beyond it, the truck. Baz reached it and ran first to the tailgate, unlocking it quickly before running to the door and unlocking that, too. They threw themself inside, slamming the door shut behind them and ducking into the floorboards. They felt more secure hidden inside the truck. They knew they ought to look out the window, see if Daniel was behind them (or if he was alive), but… for now, they continued to hide. They’d check on him when their heart stopped pounding.

— 

Baz ran off without a moment’s delay, and Daniel just had to hope that they wouldn’t drive off in his truck. He also had to hope that they unlocked the tailgate so he could get in there and grab one of his actual weapons. Maybe his sword so he could really cut through the neck of the beast. The beithir turned its sights towards Baz as they ran. Before it could give chase and strike, Daniel jumped at it and dug the spade into its side. It wasn’t sharp enough to cut all the way through the beast, instead leaving a deep cut along the side of it. 

It turned its head around towards Daniel, no longer interested in Baz as they disappeared deeper into the cemetery. It struck at him, its mouth open wide as it practically flew at him. He leaped to the side just before it wrapped its mouth around him. He hit the ground with a loud thud, and he grunted as he stood back up. He saw that the cut was already healing, looking more like a minor scratch than if he had dug a sharp blade into it. He grabbed the spade again and cut into its side. It whipped its head around towards him, and he sliced at its face. 

He needed to come up with a plan to get himself to the truck. He managed to keep it distracted from Baz, but now he was dancing back and forth with the large snake. He got a better look at it as it stretched out its body, preparing to strike him again. Daniel guessed it was somewhere around forty feet long, and certainly hundreds of pounds. Even with its massive size and weight, it was too fast for him to outrun and get to his truck. The thunder boomed above him, and the rain pounded against his skin. He needed to figure out something. 

Daniel knew he was fast too. Faster than the average human. But his reflexes wouldn’t get him too far if this thing slithered faster than him. He grumbled as he decided on a plan. A stupid plan, but still a plan. He dug the spade deep into the beast, ignoring it as it hissed and squirmed towards him, and he forced the spade to tear all the way through it. It wasn’t enough to kill it, but he couldn’t get close enough to its head just yet. He cut at multiple other places along it, leaving it with multiple wounds all along its body. He whacked its head again, turned on his heel, and ran down the path towards his truck. 

At the sight of his truck, he let out a breath of relief. Baz hadn’t tried to escape. He didn’t see Baz anywhere, so he wasn’t sure if they had kept running. Daniel went right for the tailgate and pulled the handle, feeling even more relieved as soon as it unlocked. He lifted up the bed cover, climbed up into the truck bed, and—for just a quick second—debated which weapon might seem the less…strange for a normal guy to have. A sword seemed suspicious, but his specialized hunting axe seemed a bit more like something a woodsy guy would have. But the axe’s blade wasn’t as long as the sword. He wanted something to cut through the entirety of the beithir’s neck.

— 

Inside the truck, Baz remained down against the floorboard, making themself as small as possible. It felt nothing like when they were a child, but they were reminded of it all the same. Back then, there had been few small spaces in which to hide; their father’s house was a sprawling, massive thing, each room big enough to swallow a person whole and leave no part behind. Even the closets and cupboards had been big enough that there was no ‘squeezing’ inside them, no disappearing into the shadowy corners. Everything was big in a way that made Baz feel small.

But maybe that wasn’t the house’s fault entirely. They felt small here, too, pressed against the floorboards of Daniel’s truck with their eyes squeezed shut. They wondered if Daniel was alive or if the snake had already eaten him and, if it had, whether it would be satisfied with the meal or come for Baz next. Were they safe in the confines of the truck, where the snake could not see them? Or would it find them in the same way their father always had, yank them out by the arm and punish them further for the silly attempt at hiding from the consequences of their actions? 

(That wasn’t right. That wasn’t right, was it? They hadn’t done anything wrong. They’d just been walking through the cemetery, they hadn’t done anything. It wasn’t their fault. It wasn’t.) 

Something shook the truck slightly; someone at the back of it, they realized, putting pressure on the tailgate. Was it Daniel? The snake? Some unaccounted for party that saw the back of the truck as a good place to land, a good place to hide? Maybe it was a vampire after all, ready to pry the back window open to sink teeth into Baz’s throat. They thought of Metzli throwing them to the floor in their gallery, eyes red and murderous when they landed atop Baz. They tried not to think of Jenny in the shed at the golf course, control leaving her entirely as she shifted from seeing them as a lover to seeing them as a meal instead. They knew they needed to lift themself up, needed to see what was in the back of the truck lest the panic eat them alive before the snake could. Swallowing, they climbed onto the seat, peering through the back window to see…

“Daniel.” The name was a sigh of relief; Baz had no idea if Daniel could even hear them from outside the truck, but his presence offered comfort all the same. They watched as he went for a weapon, fascinated that he was the sort of man who kept such things in his vehicle. They thought of the gun at his hip, of how quickly he’d been able to use it. They thought, too, of the roots beneath the ground the first time they’d met him in person, of how he’d been the one to get them out of that mess, too. Maybe there was more about Daniel than met the eye. Baz wondered if they ought to ask.

Before they could dwell on the thought for long, though, movement from behind Daniel caught their eye. The snake — looking a bit worse for the wear than it had when Baz had run, but still not down for the count — was moving quickly towards the truck. Baz let out a scream, pounding their palm against the glass of the window. “Behind you!” They screeched. “Hurry!”

—

Daniel caught movement in his truck, and he spotted Baz now sitting on the seat of the truck. Spotting them there almost felt like a good sign, but he was back to his dilemma of weapon choice. If they had kept running away, leaving behind the truck keys and escaping without him, this would all be easier to figure out. As it stood right then, he had their peering eyes on him. It all felt like a situation that would only spiral out of control if they asked for any more details about what he was. 

He grabbed his hunting axe just as Baz screamed. Daniel glanced up at them, and he turned around right as the snake rushed out of the cemetery and towards the truck. He climbed up onto the side of the truck bed and jumped out of the truck. He landed with a thud against the sidewalk. He tightly gripped the axe's handle as he waited for the snake to come towards him. Daniel sidestepped away from the truck, keeping the beast away from Baz and his truck--he really didn't want to deal with more truck damage from an angry beastie. 

The beithir sprung at Daniel, and he rolled out of its way and swung his blade into its back. It hissed, turning back around towards him, ready to strike again. He danced with it this time, moving and back and forth as it tried to rip into his throat and feast on him. When its neck was close enough, Daniel jumped onto its back, right below where he knew the neck was, and he swung the axe into its flesh. He dug deeper, ignoring as it thrashed and tried to roll him off it. He swung again. The blade met bone, and Daniel forced it through the thick neck, all the way through to the other side of the beast until its head detached from its body. Thrashing continued for just a few seconds until it stilled underneath him. 

The head moved around a bit, as if trying to bite Daniel. As if it wanted its venom to sink into him and take him out too. 

He stood back up and carried his axe back over to his truck bed, placing it back into its spot. He pulled the cover back down, trying to ignore if Baz was watching him. He didn't know how much they saw into his truck bed--what they may have noticed from the weapons and equipment all throughout. Maybe he could swing this as some sort of redneck doomsdayer thing. 

He now had the beast's body to deal with too. It wasn't something he was going to just let lay out on the sidewalk for anyone to find, but he had Baz to take care of first. Daniel ran his hand through his soaking wet hair, and he glared at the beast as he walked over to his truck door. 

He opened it up and looked Baz over. "You good?" Daniel asked. "It's dead." As if that wasn't obvious. He wanted to add that it would've been easier to kill this thing before it woke up--far less of a fight and struggle. "I can drive you back to your place." He glanced back at the giant snake's body. He really needed to get rid of that too. 

—

Daniel had an axe in his truck. Was that the kind of thing that was to be expected? The gun had been easy enough to explain away; after all, as a hiking guide in a town like Wicked’s Rest, that sort of thing was probably a necessity, wasn’t it? There was all sorts of wildlife to contend with, both supernatural and mundane. And weren’t Americans all about guns, even when there was little use for them? It was a stereotype, sure, but not an unfounded one. It had been simple for Baz to accept, simple for them to shrug off without thinking.

They attempted to do the same with the axe now. Daniel spent a lot of time in the woods, and why wouldn’t he haul an axe around with him? He probably had use for it from time to time, when he came across a… tree that fell in a path and needed to be cleared away. Sure, a chainsaw would be better for a task like that, but Daniel was the sort of man who liked doing things with his hands. Maybe an axe was more fun to use for him, right? Maybe it was simply a personal preference. 

Except… there was the way Daniel moved. There was the way he danced around the snake like it was a simple thing, like he didn’t have to think about it at all. He skirted and skid around it, quick to avoid the snake’s attacks and administer a few of his own while also keeping it away from Baz and the truck. It was interesting to watch, fascinating in its own way. Baz didn’t like violence, but they could get behind it when it was intended to protect them. 

In just a short time, the fight was finished. Daniel’s axe cut through the beast’s neck, separating its head from its body with ease. Baz settled back against the truck seat, waiting for Daniel to join them. They didn’t have to wait long before the truck door opened, revealing the other standing there with wet hair and barely looking out of breath. He certainly didn’t look shocked by everything that had transpired, or upset at having just had to fight a giant snake. Baz blinked owlishly at him, tilting their head.

“Unharmed,” they said, gesturing to themself vaguely. “Are you? That was… certainly something, wasn’t it? I’ve not seen a snake like that before. You seemed familiar.” Better to say it bluntly. “I wouldn’t mind a ride home. Don’t like the idea of walking in the rain.” Or with their heart still pounding in a terrified response to the snake. “Maybe we can chat a bit on the way.”

—

Daniel let out a deep breath and nodded at them. “Good, good,” he replied. “Yeah, I think… I think I’m fine.” He glanced back at the large snake body behind him, and he knew that he needed to pull it out of sight. He wanted to hide it. Shove it into the back of his truck and drive away with it and figure out the next disposal steps. He hated relying on other hunters to clean up his messes. Even now that belief remained in him. The beithir was huge—way too huge for a snake in Maine. It’d catch someone’s attention and possibly make the local news. Other rangers would know one of them fucked up and left it behind. 

It took a moment for the rest of Baz’s words to register in his head. Right. He was familiar with the snake. He should’ve acted more…startled or fearful of the beast. But he didn’t have time to play pretend when the monster wanted to devour them through its rage. “I… I guess it’s just like wrestling a Burmese Python in the Everglades.” He shrugged as if that answered literally anything Baz had said. As if he had wrestled pythons in the Everglades. “Like Florida man memes, you know?” Daniel wasn’t sure why he was trying to explain away the beast to Baz, who was aware of the supernatural. Maybe it was self-preservation, maybe it was a natural response. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter much to Daniel right then. 

“Yeah, great.” He glanced back at the carcass on the ground, deciding that he would speed back over here as soon as he dropped off Baz. He didn’t want to seem too concerned about the giant snake body. Just pretend like he’d wrestled pythons—which, Daniel could make that argument, when he thought about different lamia he had hunted over the years. He had certainly wrestled pythons in some way. Just not in Florida. 

Daniel slid into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut behind him. He patted his pockets for his keys. “You got the keys?” he asked. He wanted out of this situation as quickly as possible. Drop off Baz, get back here, clean up the scene, and go home. And get out of the soaking wet jeans, that was also important. “And I remember how to get back to your place.” He had been there once, but he was good at remembering how to get around town. 

—

Part of them wondered if they ought to ask Daniel whether or not he was certain he was okay. He’d said I think like it wasn’t a sure thing, and maybe Baz should have pressed a little. Maybe they should have gently prodded, tried to ensure that the man who saved them hadn’t earned any venom in the process, but… it was hard to focus on anything much further than their trembling hands or their pounding heart. Baz wasn’t particularly good at this. Not the being saved — they were actually very good at being saved, thank you, they made a very lovely damsel in distress — but the aftermath. The bit where you were left with the person who’d done the saving, and dropping to your knees to thank them the way you were best at wasn’t an option. Daniel would want something, they were sure. Last time, it had been answers, confirmation as to what Baz was. What would he ask for now, having just killed a massive snake by hand? Something bigger? Something more daunting to give? Though their father had looked down on them a fair bit, even he had never been one to deny the fact that Baz was fae through and through. If they owed someone something, they’d pay it. They didn’t even mind that. Not knowing what they owed, though, not knowing when the collection might come round… that was a bit more uncomfortable.

They tilted their head at Daniel’s explanation, eyes darting back to the remains of the massive snake. Baz wasn’t entirely well-versed in American wildlife, but they didn’t think there was any sort of snake like that in the States, even in Florida. They looked back to Daniel, disbelief flashing briefly behind their eyes before it was smoothed away into nothing, replaced with a casual demeanor that was even more of a farce now than it usually was. “Right,” they said, and it wasn’t quite a lie but it burned their tongue, anyway. “Suppose you probably used to do this eight times before breakfast, hm?” If all Daniel asked of them was to believe his lie, maybe they ought to be grateful.

Daniel came over to the truck, and Baz produced the keys from their pocket where they’d shoved them while hiding. “Here you are, captain,” they said with a sloppy salute, pressing the keys into Daniel’s hand. If their own hand was still trembling when they did so, they didn’t think it mattered much. The snake was dead. It would not sink massive teeth into their body, would not render them motionless and empty with whatever venom it possessed. And they owed Daniel… something, sure, but Daniel was not unkind. Whatever favor he asked of them, it wouldn’t be so bad. They repeated this to themself like a quiet mantra, unwilling to say it aloud not for fear that Daniel might hear, but for fear that it would clench their stomach and prove itself to be a lie. Fae could only lie to themselves so long as they didn’t try to speak their mistruth aloud.

“I can offer direction if you need it, but something tells me you’ve got it all locked away proper.” They reached up to tap the side of Daniel’s head. “Steel trap, that. I can see it.” Showering him in compliments was a sure way to endear themself to him, a defense mechanism Baz often fell back on. Make someone like you, and they were a lot more likely to save you for free.

—

Daniel forced himself to not raise a brow in surprise when Baz went along with his weak lie. Wrestling pythons in the Everglades? Even Baz had to know how unlikely that was for him. “Oh, it was my breakfast,” he joked back, forcing himself to get out of his head, to be a little distracted by a stupid joke with…well, he wasn’t sure what to call Baz. He wondered what it might be like if he came clean and confessed that he had lied to them when he had last saved their life. It would have to hurt more than lying about wrestling pythons—he knew that much. He hadn’t known about doppelgangers until he had asked other hunters and learned what he could, but he had played dumb about fae in general—had acted as if he had never heard of fae despite his years of hunting with wardens. He wondered what Baz might think if they learned that Daniel was a ranger.

He shook the thought out of his head as he took the keys from Baz. He ignited the engine and flipped on the windshield wipers. His gaze focused on the wipers sweeping back and forth across the glass, pushing thick droplets of water out of his field of vision, and he thought once more about why Baz wasn’t questioning him further. But if they wanted to keep up the deception and ignore what was hidden, then Daniel couldn’t blame them for that. 

“Ah, sure, if you see me turning down the wrong street, just let me know,” he said. He glanced in his mirrors and over his shoulders, not seeing any oncoming traffic, and pulled away from the side of the street. “Or if you know some shortcut from here. You probably wanna get out of them wet clothes anyhow.” Daniel tightened his jaw at the insinuation of another hookup. When it came to sleeping around, that was one thing, but in a relationship, he tended to only want to be with his partner (well, unless they ever wanted to fool around with someone else together). 

Before he could keep his mouth shut tight, he opened it again and said, “I’ve got some spare dry clothes in the back if you’re needing them.” He rolled his eyes at himself as he drove along the rode toward Baz’s home. “That ain’t me—I ain’t suggesting that we—I’m in a relationship.” He slowed down at a yellow light, and once stopped, pushed his arm behind him and dug around for his tote bag of clothes. He yanked it out and placed it in the middle between them. He would at least change out of these wet clothes after dropping off Baz. 

—

Daniel seemed content to settle in his lie, and Baz was content to let him. They’d learned a lot over the years at how to make themself into the sort of thing people liked keeping around. Sure, they had a personality that was often loud and unashamed, and they didn’t tend to suffocate it for anyone else’s benefit, but they were happy enough to let other people tell the lies they wanted to tell so long as it meant they’d stay close by. Most things Baz did, at the end of the day, were in the simple interest of not being alone. Alone, they were nothing. They were shapeless, voiceless, meaningless. Doppelgangers only had a form to speak of when it was borrowed, and they couldn’t borrow from an empty box. If Daniel needed his lie to be believed in order for him to continue saving Baz from whatever supernatural bits and bobs wanted to make a meal of them — or even simply to continue speaking to them at all — Baz was fine with that.

As the car started and the windshield wipers began their battle against the pouring rain, Daniel settled into a quiet that Baz was sure was common for him. In the time they’d spent together thus far, it didn’t escape the doppelganger’s notice that they had often been the one doing most of the talking between the pair. That was all well and good, of course — Baz didn’t mind talking — but it struck them that Daniel might want a bit of quiet, and they thought they ought to grant it to him. It wasn’t an easy thing to achieve — they felt a bit like they were trying to hold their breath — but they managed it for a few minutes. 

At least, until it was Daniel who broke the silence. At that point, Baz figured they were allowed to speak without consequence.

“Oh, it’s not so far,” they assured him. “I was planning on walking, wasn’t I? Wouldn’t do that if it were a long ways, naturally!” Instinct rushed them when Daniel mentioned getting out of their wet clothes, but Baz recalled their conversation with Talia and forced the words back down their throat. (The only thing they’d be forcing down their throat tonight, unfortunately.) They might not have been particularly well versed in relationships of the romantic sort, but they did know how to respect a person’s boundaries. Talia and Daniel didn’t seem to be ‘open’ in the same way Baz and Jenny were, and that was just fine. They wouldn’t push on that boundary. Not when they wanted Daniel to like them more than they wanted to sleep with him. 

They hummed as Daniel offered his own dry clothes, huffing out half a laugh as he continued. “Oh, I’ve spoken to your partner already,” they assured him. “I know you’re not after that sort of thing.” Which was a bit of a shame, maybe, but only because Baz so desperately wanted to be touched. “Not to worry, mate. I’ve got plenty of dry clothes at mine, yeah? Yours aren’t my style, anyway.” They’d rather be damp in their own clothes than styleless in someone else’s. “If you’d like to change, I’m happy enough to look the other direction. Don’t worry, I won’t peek.”

—

“Ah, fair enough,” Daniel remarked. He knew well-enough that he would make some ridiculous walk around town, but he spent most of his life hiking long distances. He was glad that Baz kept their mouth shut about any possible implication. He couldn’t be certain that they wouldn’t try something with him or make some sort of suggestion—he didn’t know them all that well, when he thought about it. He also recognized that he hadn’t actually had any conversation with Talia about seeing other people. For all he knew, she still hooked up with other people. In the back of his mind, he made note they should probably talk about that at some point. He wasn’t interested in anyone else unless it was a situation where they were together. 

He chuckled at Baz’s remark about his style. “What? Something wrong with my flannels?” Daniel joked. The light turned red, and he glanced over at Baz from the corner of his eye. “I think they’re fashionable. These ones are even clean. Ain’t got no dirt on them.” The cars at the intersection drove past them, and he leaned back a bit more comfortably in his truck. At least Baz wasn’t questioning too much. The two of them could act like nothing had just happened. No need to question the why or how for Daniel killing a large beast. 

The light turned green, and the truck eased forward as Daniel pressed down on the gas pedal. Rain still beat against the windshield. He let himself focus on getting the two of them back to Baz’s place rather than any of the worries about everything else. He pulled up to the junkyard and put his truck in park. “Here we are,” he said. He thought for a brief moment about saying something about the creature, but they had already moved away from that. The beithir was in the past, laying dead on the sidewalk for Daniel to clean up as soon as Baz hopped out of his truck. “Um, guess I’ll see you around.” 

—

“They’re flannels,” Baz pointed out, wrinkling their nose in quiet disgust. “Everything is wrong with them. It’s not about how clean they are.” Which probably wasn’t very, despite Daniel’s insistence. Something having no dirt on it certainly didn’t make it clean, in Baz’s opinion. Especially not if the ‘something’ in question was clothing that had been sitting in the backseat of a hot truck for who knew how long! Daniel was a bit of a slob, they were realizing; it was probably a good thing they weren’t sleeping with him anymore.

(Except, a small voice in their head murmured, that it meant he would no longer care to protect them. Yes, he had stepped in today, but would he do the same next time? If he hadn’t already been in the cemetery, if he hadn’t needed to save himself too, would he have walked by and left Baz to their fate? They couldn’t think of any reason why he wouldn’t, now that they had nothing more to offer him. His girlfriend disliked them, they knew more about him than he probably wished for them to… sweat prickled the back of their neck, and they ignored it. They were safe this time. They’d just not think about next time until it arrived.)

The drive back to the junkyard was a relatively quiet one, all things considered. Baz, too proud to trade their soaked garments for Daniel’s dry flannels, shivered in their seat until the familiar gates stretched before them, relief at being home tangible even with the danger long past. They’d find comfort in Joel, who they trusted expected nothing from them in a way that was genuine. They could not say the same for Daniel, whose dishonesty hung over him like a shroud. How had he known about the snake creature, let alone known how to kill it? How had he had the skills to do so? Baz would not ask; Daniel would not tell them. Whatever that was, Baz didn’t think it a thing built on trust.