wolves & ghosts (pt. 4/?)
(TW: death, blood & gore, ghosts, mentions of car crash)
Asher never kept secrets from David. Except for the wisp.
The first time he saw it was a few months after Gabe died.
At last, the pack meeting was over. Meetings weren't usually the most lively or engaging, typically just full of business talk about gigs, upcoming events, and news around Dahlia. But they never used to be unenjoyable, bordering on unbearable.
The past couple weeks, though, tensions had been increasing; they'd finally reached a high that day. The security company had lost a gig the previous week. It'd come up during the meeting, and Christian said out loud what everyone had been thinking:
“Well maybe we wouldn’t be in this position if our Beta had actually done his job right."
The whole pack had turned to stare at Asher, their eyes burning. They blamed him. And they were right to, Asher thought. They’d lost the gig because of his ineptitude. He wasn't fit for this role. The only people who seemed to disagree were David, Milo, and...Tank. Dammit, Tank.
David had tried to respond to Christian, but Tank beat him to it, snarling at Christian to shut the fuck up. The two exchanged heated words, then blows. Well, the blows were mostly from Tank…entirely from Tank. Soon enough David was ripping them off Christian and barking at them to cool off outside. All while Asher sat frozen in his seat.
He wished Tank hadn't fought Christian. He was right to question Asher's leadership. Asher was questioning it himself, wondering morosely if maybe stepping down was better for everyone.
The rest of the pack had left for the night. David had gone outside to talk to Tank—that is, if they had stuck around like he’d told them to. Asher hoped they had. Maybe David could finally get through to them. Or maybe Tank could get through to him. Gods, they both needed help. Asher scrubbed his palms against his bleary eyes. He had no idea how to help either of them, let alone himself. Everything was so fucked. Unshed tears turned his eyes glassy. He felt utterly useless.
So he tidied up. Cleaning and organizing always seemed to calm David, so Asher figured he might as well give it a try.
Trudging around the den, he clumsily folded blankets, stacked floor cushions, and threw away trash. As he turned off the den's various lamps and string lights, his gaze fell upon Gabe's chair, still set out next to David's.
Tears overtook Asher like a riptide and he crumpled into the nearest seat he could find. He'd never felt so lost, so alone. His parents were off in another country, his sister in another state, Milo and Tank and Amanda all felt so distant, Gabe was dead, and David. David. With a gnawing pang in his chest, Asher wondered if he'd lost him for good. If maybe his best friend had died with Gabe.
Suddenly, he heard a burst of muffled shouts back-and-forth outside, then the slam of the back door. He scrambled to his feet, quickly scouring the tears from his face as David stormed into the room.
Asher looked up, vision still slightly blurred with stubborn tears. His stomach flipped. The one lamp still on revealed David in the doorway, chest heaving with anger. But it was the silvery figure looming behind him that seized Asher's body with terror.
Hemmed in shadows, the man stared at David through swollen eyes. His left arm and leg were more mutilated meat than functional limbs—thick dangling conglomerations of sinew and bubbly fat. Intestines leaked out a gaping chasm on his left side; large shards of glass were embedded in his right like sets of teeth jutting out from his chest and neck. The broken bones of his face were straining against his skin at odd angles, almost breaking through, gnarling his visage into something horrific.
He should have been completely unrecognizable to Asher. But he knew who this was.
He also knew he should stop looking. Immediately. What he was seeing was dangerous. Acknowledging this could drown him and David both. He knew it, but he couldn't look away. He couldn't get his body to cooperate. To run. To turn. To breathe. Was this what Tank had seen that night when the car crashed? Was this what David had seen when he had to identify the body?
Asher must've looked as terrified as he felt, because David was quickly moving towards him, his voice low and laced with trepidation, "Asher? What's wrong?"
Finally, Asher jerked his gaze towards him. David looked concerned. More concerned than he'd looked towards anyone or anything in months. He almost looked scared.
Fighting against the tremors racing up his body, Asher choked out, "N-Nothing! It's nothing."
Unconvinced, David advanced further, frustration darkening his anxious tone, "Asher. Don't lie to me."
If Asher had been worried about losing David before, that was nothing compared to this moment. He felt electric with panic. He couldn't let David turn around, not until he was certain the figure had left. He wouldn't let David see. Wouldn’t let his gut fill with the terrible, rotting hope that some part of him was still there. Asher grit his teeth in resolve. He was pack Beta. He would protect his Alpha.
Asher plastered a smile on his face, hoping it looked convincing and not as harrowing as it felt.
"I'm fine, David! Just-Just tired. Almost finished up in here,” he stammered as he stumbled over to the final lamp and yanked the metal cord down.
The two were plunged into darkness, illuminated only by the scant moonlight falling through the window blinds. In the pale, muted light, David looked frighteningly similar to the figure staring at the back of his head. Asher kept his eyes fixed on David, knowing that even one brief glance towards the doorway would alert him to who—no—what was over there. He breathed slowly. This wasn’t who he thought it was. It wasn’t him. It was just Asher’s exhausted mind warping his vision. It was just the tears in his eyes making him see double.
Forcing his tone to stay bright, Asher asked, “How’d the talk with Tank go?”
A broken growl rumbled in David's throat. It sounded painful. But his words were as steady and embittered as ever.
"It's handled…for now at least."
Asher nodded, moving to pick up his and David’s belongings. “That’s good,” he breathed, his hands shaking at the smell of David’s jacket. Gabe’s jacket. It still smelled like him. Asher thrust it into David’s hands along with his messenger bag, before scrambling to throw on his own windbreaker.
“D’you wanna go get some food?” Asher asked. He began to walk towards the front door, trying to keep his gait calm and controlled. David followed, steps heavy and countenance heavier.
“No, I’m fine,” he grumbled, shrugging on his jacket and bag, “I just want to go home.”
“Alrighty,” Asher replied, managing to sound nonchalant, “Let’s head out then.”
He slowed, letting David exit the den before him. Something in him screamed to turn back around and check if the figure was still there. To see if it had moved, drawn closer. See if its eyes were still trained on David or if they’d found a new target…
He kept walking, through the doorway and into the crisp air of the parking lot. Whatever it was, he wouldn’t give it the chance to hurt them.
*Thanks for reading!!! <3
**The idea that Tank was in the car with Gabe the night he died is from @dominimoonbeam’s fantastic fic, Scars That Remind.
***Go here to read Tank’s perspective of the events of this fic.
