#chuck.

Wynne didn’t have a lot of experience with road trips they could compare to this one, but even so they had a feeling this was a bit of a strange one. The people they’d brought together made a strange bunch, and then there was the car itself — some kind of van that one might expect served ice cream. There were cones and ice cream scoops, sure, but the cold substance itself was lacking. In stead, there were just various sizes of jars, tubs and buckets of mayo. For a large chunk of the ride, they had sat on a large bucket of it.

They hadn’t questioned it, as there were more pressing things to question. Like what an exorcist did exactly did, why Regan hadn’t taken off her coat, how Teddy was still alive and if the tension in the front of the car would be resolved when they arrived. Most importantly: whether Wynne was doing something horrible by bringing these people along. Their fear wasn’t quite as overwhelming as it had once been – there seemed to be more room for determination and even rage, now – but it was still there.

They glanced through the back window, the roads behind them growing more and more familiar. Eventually the car slowed and they stretched their legs, standing in the mayo-mobile. Eyes flicked to the Leviathan behind the wheel. They must be there. “Okay. Alright.” Wynne let out a breath of air. In their hand was a strand of paper on which they’d written down the words they were supposed to chant, down the line. Everyone had gotten a similar strand of paper, as well as a rough sketch of the commune with a red dot where the altar stood. “I guess we’re here. And everyone knows what they’re supposed to do, right?” They fiddled with the back door. “I’ll lead us there.” Lead. Maybe that was the strangest thing of all, today. That Wynne was trying to lead.

It had been a long, bumpy road to Moosehead Lake, and Regan was filled with the sickening feeling that there was something about all of this she wasn’t understanding, the only one not on the same wavelength with the others. It was not a new feeling; it had clung to her all her life. But in the cramped, sour-smelling quarters of the mayo mobile, it was an inescapable one. Everyone chanted during the drive. They had become well-practiced but it remained eerie, and Regan had instead spent her time studying the dead bugs pressed against the window. A faun would not care about this chant. At least she was here to talk some sense into them when this failed. 

Regan squirmed under her coat and took inventory of both her supplies and the people she might be using them on for the tenth time. Typical first aid; bandages, sutures, hemostatic agents, dressings of every size and color. Her collection also expanded into shears, a sphygmomanometer, tourniquets, and even epinephrine injections. The others in the van were no less diverse. She trusted Wynne enough to do this for them. But the others? Emilio had helped her with the necklace, Lil had stopped by the morgue asking about her family, and Teddy’s bones were one of the more disturbing things she’d seen in her years as a doctor. But what of Levi? That had to have been who Wynne made a deal with… but he was not fae. So Regan regarded each of them with suspicion, but especially Levi.

When Wynne announced their arrival, Regan jolted to attention. Her hands grew sweaty against the handle of the kit. She noticed and berated herself for it. Nervous was human, and she was better. But maybe it wasn’t nerves… she hesitated for a moment before stumbling out of the van with the others. There was something in the air; it made her skin fizzle like it was under a mass of maggots. She refocused herself on the others, pushing that sensation away. “Yes, I know where I’m needed. Stay with the van with the supplies and be ready for wh– if this fails.” She wanted to say more to Wynne, but it was difficult in front of everyone else. Which was foolish. Why should it be difficult? Regan compromised by letting her eyes soften – a little – as she looked at Wynne. “Stay sharp, Wynne, for you and your brother.” Be careful. “Úsáideann tú do scian féin anois. It means ‘you wield your own knife, now’.” Toward the first few minutes of their journey together, Regan had already decided Lil was the most responsible out of the lot of them, so she turned to her. “No fatalities. Keep everyone alive and get them to me if they’re injured. Watch out for rats.”

Teddy was alive, but the anger Emilio felt towards Levi for endangering them to begin with hadn’t yet faded. It was a strange thing, given how his relationship with Teddy had developed; even now, despite their conversation on the beach, the hunter still found himself doubting that they were friends at all. And still, that anger placed a tension in his shoulders as he sat in front of the van beside Levi, giving curt directions to lead them to where they needed to be.

Had they been going for any other reason, he might have been less cooperative. Emilio wasn’t very good at playing nice when he was angry, and for whatever reason, he was furious with Levi now. Had anyone but Wynne asked him to do this, he might have offered some petty response, might have demanded something impossible and bowed out when it wasn’t provided. Even as it was, he’d spent a great majority of the journey complaining about being in the passenger’s seat instead of the driver’s, insisting that it would have made more sense for him to drive since he knew the way. But this was for Wynne, and for Wynne, he would swallow his pride. Petty complaints were still present, but so were detailed directions that got them to where they needed to be. 

And so were the nerves.

He knew he wasn’t the only one feeling them. Wynne didn’t seem as afraid as they had before, but he could feel the anger radiating from them, the grief. Regan seemed uncertain, Lil nervous. It was hard to get a read on Teddy, because it always was. Emilio kept glancing between the figures in the back seat, eyes darting occasionally to Levi in the front. Whatever they felt, whatever doubts they all had, it wasn’t important now. What was important was Wynne. Their retribution, their prevention. (Their vengeance, he thought, but he wasn’t sure that was what this was about for Wynne. Vengeance drove everything Emilio did, but Wynne was different. He was glad for that.)

He listened to Regan speak as they parked, grunting in quiet agreement with her words. You wield your own knife now. Wynne deserved that much. “Lead the way, kid,” he said to Wynne, offering them a small nod. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Lil didn’t really know many people in the van, and if she was honest she wasn’t quite sure why she had agreed to the plan anyway. Maybe it was because Wynne had asked, and Lil knew damn well that an exorcist was better than no exorcist on something like this. If half of it was true - which to the point it might not be Regan didn’t particularly think that it was a demon and Lil didn’t really have a reason not to trust that - then Lil might not even be enough. Still, there wasn’t time to get someone better here. The only demonologist Lil knew and trusted was missing, and - well she’d rather not call her almost teacher. Chances were Lil would have to make a deal for the help, and honestly she wasn’t really into deals. So she decided to go, sit in a mayonnaise truck with mostly strangers to help out a person that had been nice to her. 

She tried to warn them on everything, figure out details and rituals that might work, but well there wasn’t a whole lot of time for her to be creative and perfect with it. She’d have to hope the others were at least ready for a fall out if it didn’t work. Lil had to be ready to pull it if the ritual wouldn’t work, her hand aching as she remembered -.  Learning from the last time, and before even entering the van she had decided that a slightly open hand wound would make it easier, and having wrapped it up she had declined to comment on what it was instead talking about what it all would look like. She tried to be upbeat, but she was more nervous then she normally was. Still, other than the chanting she had remained mostly quiet letting some of them squabble instead - Emilio in particular seemed very upset that he wasn’t driving. 

As the van pulled into park and without much thought pulled her hair up and went to check that she had everything as the others talked, looking up only when her name was called climbing down from the counter she’d perched herself on. 

“Okay, Doc. I’ll try my best on that one. I’ll at least probably need to be patched up later.  The rats might be tricky though,” Lil said at an attempt of a joke, not saying the quiet part out loud. Sure whatever was there was likely to pick Wynne as their first target, but Lil wouldn’t necessarily be far behind. She was likely one of the squishier people here, although she hadn’t asked. Still, she decided then and there if she had to she’d just grab Wynne and pull them back to the van and come back another day if she had too. 

Tugging at the bandage around her left hand Lil nodded and said softly to Wynne, “ Yeah I’ll start the ritual when it gets to be time - hey If you get scared, just look at one of us okay? You don’t have to look at them for it to work. We got this. No worries.” 

She had a gentle smile on her face to Wynne that turned serious when she looked at the other three going onto the journey, “Like I said before, I’m probably going to be MIA for at least part of this chanting, so you know don’t let me get hit and stumble in the middle of all of this. Move me if you have to, but don’t let the - person who is probably a demon but may not be - manage to cover my mouth,” Lil wanted to say more, saying that they wouldn’t like the consequences of an exorcist failing, but she figured Wynne was already spooked enough. 

The back of the mayomobile wasn't really meant to have passengers while the old beast was in motion. The van chugged along the road bouncing everyone around like physical representations of the nerves that ate at most of their minds. It was kind of hard to actually tell what was actually supposed to go on back here. Scattered boxes with half filled tubs of various types of mayonnaise. Tubes of wafer and sugar cones. Almost reminiscent of an ice cream truck but one step removed. Abstracted. Just like the people inside. From a glance, they could all appear normal. But the details betrayed the strangeness just below. Eyes, much too knowing. Scars of past encounters, each with a completely different context. Each hiding a different story for the one who bore them. Teddy didn't know all of their stories, only that if Wynne trusted each of them enough to bring them along, Ted would trust them too. 

It was a good thing, Teddy thought, that the main task ahead of them was one of linguistics and not physical prowess. They were good at that, confident in it. The exact opposite of how they felt with the massive changes they were still getting used to. Everything from the clothes on their back to the air in their lungs felt heavier. A strange energy buzzed in their chest, they could only guess that it must have had something to do with the outburst of power during the ritual with Levi. Something that surprised both of them. A great feat, considering how hard it was to surprise a being as old as time itself. One that (to Teddy's shock and relief) was trying to show its care and attachment to the kid it took in all those years ago. 

Dark eyes glanced forward. Tinted by the rose colored glasses that Teddy didn't need anymore. (Another peculiarity. Completely human. Whatever that meant.) Emilio sat seething, fidgeting in the way he always did when there was something on his mind that he felt he couldn't say. What he did say was a bunch of nonsense about the demon's driving. Half Spanish rants angrily admonishing the way the driver decided to switch lanes, or how fast or slow it was going. 

Levi was barking right back, between corrections of pronunciation for the chant and addendums to the plan. The back and forth was comforting in a way. Finally something familiar to focus on. From their position in the back, they could comfortably smile while they watched the driver and passenger bicker about meaningless road drama. Watch the others in the back attend to their own anxieties each in their own way. 

Lil, as Teddy had recently learned her name was, was focused. Clearly having the most experience with this kind of thing outside of Levi. It painted her an anxious general. Nervously warning the recruits about the dangers they were to face. Clearly of the "information will keep you alive" variety. Plan for the worst, hope for the best. Teddy liked that. She seemed… roughly about the same age as them or Emilio. Maybe a few years younger, but not as young as Wynne. The fact that she carried herself with this quiet authority, even if it was a front, was impressive. Teddy only hoped they'd all live long enough for them to tell her so. 

Regan, next up in line of how little Teddy knew them, was the pensive type. A seemingly compulsive need to check and recheck her tools. Funny, they thought, or maybe ironic that the person who usually spent her days opening up the dead to find their secrets was likely going to be the one to patch them all up, should shit go sideways. The good doctor was understandably a bit shaken by the results of the x-rays. Something Teddy had to try very hard not to have a little laugh about. The writing on their ribcage (and pretty much everywhere else) was never going to be the thing to kill them. 

Then of course, Wynne. Carrying quite a bit of confidence amongst the worries. It suited them. Teddy wanted more than anything for this to go well. For it to be everything the kid needed, for them to be safe after this. Teddy said they would do anything to help, and they fucking meant it. As the van pulled up, and Wynne spoke, they were ready to follow. Whatever that meant. 

The ritual had been a gamble, but a necessary one. It would not just be the danger that came after this encounter, it was the danger that seemed to surround them in the place they’d chosen as home, and now, well… Leviathan couldn’t ask Teddy to leave. They had formed important bonds with people that were not the greater demon, and as much as it didn’t want to admit it, that was important. That was good. Teddy needed that, they needed people that weren’t quite so detached from the humanity they’d left behind for decades. But it needed to make sure that Teddy would be safe, that something like the mines wouldn’t ever happen again, and so it had. 

It spared a glance toward the rear of the peculiar vehicle at one of the stoplights they came to, ignoring the grumblings of the man sat beside it in favor of offering a small, encouraging smile in Teddy’s direction. Its gaze then quickly danced to Wynne, who it was helping out of some moral obligation to try and redeem itself, maybe, for wanting to sever its connection to Teddy. One last act of selflessness before it ran to let the flames die down. At least it could give Teddy something to be proud of, maybe. 

“Listen, you’ll get to drive back home, sourpuss,” Leviathan chided Emilio as they all climbed out of the van. “So stop behaving like a child about it, will you?” It knew that harassing it for only being shotgun was simply an outlet for a much more serious frustration, but it was one that was,  frankly, resolved. So he could shut up about it already. 

Rounding the side of the van to meet the rest that had piled out of the back, its gaze fell on Lil as she spoke. “Right, well… just make sure you’re targeting the right demon,” it said bluntly, unbothered by the fact that not everyone here knew, or even believed in that sort of thing. They’d see soon enough. Except maybe the one staying behind, but that was inconsequential at this point. “And remember, we’re trying to draw it out, not banish it. If you banish it, you’re going to make it horribly difficult for me to find again.” 

Looking down at the map Wynne had provided, Leviathan fell into step beside them. “How much resistance do you think we’re going to meet? Will they fight or scatter?” 

Regan’s words echoed through them as they stepped out of the van, nodding their head at her before letting their feet hit familiar soil. It was a good sentiment — the idea that they should be something sharp and weaponlike for Iwan, but also themself. To take the blade they’d feared all their life and do something with it in stead. But to think of their brother was hard and so Wynne didn’t linger on the thought. “We’ll be right back.” Eyes flicked to Lil, giving a grateful smile. “Thank you. And if you — or anyone, ever …” They trailed off. “You only have to be here because you want to be.”

It was strange, to stand on the same ground they had once been born on. To return to the place they had barely ever left up until nine or so months ago. Wynne must have left this way then, to the main road — but they weren’t able to remember it in detail. It had been a fearful blur, crashing through those woods knowing that every step they took was what was keeping them alive. That there was no stopping, even if their throat constricted.

They weren’t afraid now. Whenever they tried to find it within them, they found something null and void. At the end of the day, there was just the anger. For their own escaped fate, for the fate that was forced upon their brother and would continue to be given to people like them, time after time after time. 

Wynne looked around the people that moved with them now, and that was their only source of anxiety. It was strange, how these people were coming with them when others – their parents, for one – would never have had their back this way. It was also scary. Iwan had already died because of them — so they weren’t sure what was waiting for them all next.

But they kept walking. It was the same way it was when they’d ran: they had to keep going. The air smelled familiar. They trudged on, attempting to ignore the scents that came with summer ending. 

Eyes flicked up at the sound of the Leviathan’s voice. Wynne thought for a moment. “They’re not … ones to attack outsiders, generally. They usually welcome them, but after Emilio came by, they must be more wary.” Despite all the death that surrounded the Protherian community, they weren’t violent — issues were resolved through other means. And though Llewelyn had taught them how to punch, they’d never needed it until leaving the commune. “Maybe there will be some, but most of them will probably scatter. We— they hunt, so there are weapons that some know how to use. I’m not … sure I can give a conclusive answer.” They pushed their lips together. “I assume they’d want to talk first, but we’re not here to do that.” 

It was no surprise that all of the talk about demons and fighting continued outside of the mayo mobile, and Regan was no less lost than before. All of this fuss over a faun. At least they seemed to know to be careful with their words. Other than that, she didn’t think faun posed much of a threat… but perhaps her opinion of them was skewed by Conor, who… well, actually, he probably would sock someone in the face, but he managed to be delicate all the same.

As the group prepared to depart, Regan hovered by the van, both knowing she would best serve Wynne by being ready here, and… being grateful for it. Something about all of this was sending a surge of incipient dread through her, but she was trying her best to squash it. The gentle pulse of death by her feet was helpful in that regard. Regan gazed down lovingly at the decomposing lump of fur that was once a vole, and then back up to Wynne, the group. “I will be good here. I have business to attend to.” Her fingers itched to reach for the carcass. But she wanted her privacy. Death was for her, not them. Could she send them off? Were they ready? No, they would never be ready. “I’d say don’t do anything foolish, but…” It was, Regan suspected, far too late for that.

Levi was smug and annoying and Emilio was trying not to focus on it lest his temper get the best of him. They were here to go up against one demon, and Emilio would do them no favors by punching the one who was supposedly on their side for the whole ordeal, even if it might make him feel momentarily better. Wynne needed him present, both physically and mentally. He had to do the best he could to provide that for them.

So he focused on the other members of the party instead. He let his mind wander enough to wonder what Dr. Kavanagh thought they were doing there, since she didn’t seem to believe in anything supernatural in spite of her status as (if Emilio’s suspicions weren’t wrong) a banshee. He wondered what Jonas had told his twin about the detective who was looking into their family’s disappearance, wondered if he matched up to what Lil must have thought of him or if she knew too little to have any impression at all. He wondered what Teddy was thinking about, if they were doing any better than they had been the last time he’d seen them. 

But, mostly, he was thinking of Wynne. He wondered if their grief felt anything like his own, if their drive to get rid of the demon that had plagued them their whole life was nobler than his desire to put down every vampire who’d stepped foot in Etla the day his daughter had died. Did they want to burn the whole damn compound to the ground the way he would have in their shoes? Even with less of a connection to the place than they had, part of him still wanted to salt the damn earth it was built on. His fingers twitched, hands clenching into fists as he looked towards the road they would be heading down. He imagined it was the same one Wynne had left when they departed. He tried not to think about how afraid they must have been.

Regan was staying behind, and that was probably for the best. She didn’t strike Emilio as a fighter, and the morality she’d displayed in the past might become… problematic depending on what was necessary here. Already, he was concerned about what protests Lil might have. She was the only unknown factor to him, the only member of their group that he hadn’t spent extensive time with. Levi was an ass, but it would do what it had promised. Teddy’s heart was too goddamn big for their own good, and Emilio was far more worried about them trying to fall on a sword than he was about them protesting any unseemly necessities. Wynne would do what they had to do to avenge their brother and stop what happened to him from happening to anyone else. He wished he knew why Lil had agreed to this, wished he understood a little better what she was prepared to do and how far she was prepared to go. As it was, there was no time for discovery and no room for protest. What they had was what they had.

Which meant all information probably needed to be on the table.

Levi was asking if the compound’s residents would fight back, and Wynne was saying that they were typically peaceful towards outsiders, but… “Might’ve punched a couple of them,” Emilio mumbled, neither regretful nor ashamed. He’d punch them again in a heartbeat. But he recognized that that might make his presence… a little more unwelcome than most, to the Protherians. “Uh, that guy Padrig. And…” He glanced to Wynne, a little sheepish. “Wynne’s dad. They’d recognize me if they saw me, I think. Not sure if that changes anything.”

Lil was used to being an outsider, something that made her comfortable around so many faces she couldn’t quite place. After all, not a lot of people wanted an exorcist to stick around - it was as much of an omen as it was a necessity. So while she saw the stares, she elected to not care too terribly much about them. She was here to help kill a demon and make sure to bring Wynne back alive, and well the rest of it wasn’t of her concern. If they ended up hating her then, well she would be hated by another group of people. She was used to it.

“Bye Doc,” Lil said, waving with her good hand to the medical examiner she’d grown fond of, hoping that she would actually see her again. As she set out though, she didn’t look back slowly, turning her attention to what needed to be done rather than what ifs of things she couldn’t possibly consider. 

Her eyes turned to Levi, who seemed very happy to keep telling Lil that it was a demon. It should have infuriated her to work with it but she had quelled that idea. She was hardly a person that could demand purity in her partnerships and she wasn’t going to be a hypocrite. So instead she sighed and said, “Like I told you, I don’t know your name and could you stop saying you're a demon? - Anyway,  You’ll be fine, and I’m not an idiot. If anything I’m just - putting a shield between you two and us so it can’t escape your attack.” She didn’t point out that even if she wanted to she couldn’t kill the demon. If she did, she was pretty sure the tightrope between exorcist and demonologist would tip - and Lil frankly would rather not. She would rather the Leviathan just forget she actually existed than having to battle an ancient demon.

Catching Wynne’s eye as they considered the possibilities Lil shrugged and said, “That’s fine Wynne. No matter what they do, we can lead them to where they need to go. Bet you it’ll be more simple than we think.” 

At Emilio’s confession, Lil couldn’t help but snort, hiding her laugh behind her good hand as she tried to be serious. It wasn’t her thinking it was silly or stupid, rather she probably would have done the same thing. Still, instead of commenting on it she said, “ See like that. It might work out  if we can get them to realize Emilio is there they might come towards him. How many people can you punch, Bud? In any case there’s a slim chance the demon will recognize I’m an exorcist. ” She honestly didn’t know at this point, she knew Demons were drawn to Jane, but Lil had never experienced that fun quirk. Still, she figured they at least should know. 

“Besides, if the worst case scenario happens, I think between all of us, we can get someone to chase us, yeah?” Lil asked, stretching her arms as she walked. “Well, at least I know I can be annoying enough to get chased.” 

“Oh he can punch sooo many.” Teddy grinned as they trotted forward. Throwing one arm around the grumpy slayer in a way that might have earned them a punch back when the pair had first met. Now there was something between them, and Ted had no idea what, but it sure was something. “Just look at these arms, he’s a punching machine.” Their other arm slipped around Wynne’s shoulders. Giving them just a quick encouraging squeeze before sprinting a few paces ahead. If only so they could catch up with Levi, turn around and start to walk backwards while they talked to the mini crowd behind. 

“If all else fails we can call in the captain of the Mayo-Mobile to swoop in and save the day.” Teddy offered Regan a  very serious salute and then a warm smile. If it got that bad they probably weren’t going to make it out at all. But if there was one thing Teds was still good for, it was keeping things light. Even when they had a storm of self-doubt brewing up inside. Good morale could get you a lot damn farther than you’d ever believe. That and having the be-all end-all sea monster of sea monsters on your side. That helped too. 

Wynne sure picked their avengers well. 

“What do you think pops, am I annoying enough to get chased?” 

“I seem to recall you testing that theory on me when you were… ten?” Leviathan responded slowly, though a small smile did work its way onto the demon’s face. “And as I remember it, the answer was a resounding yes.” It chuckled. Its gaze then slid over to Wynne again, and it nodded. “Sure. I assume you want to let the ones that run escape? It would probably be best.  Once the ritual is underway and Wyvss’Kgorr reveals itself, you will all want to… back up.”

There was the matter of the sacrifice, but that could wait. The first cultist to give them trouble would do just fine, anyway. Though perhaps offering the child a choice would be better… hm. At any rate, it wasn’t time for that yet. 

“Well, if any of them want to go another round with you, I certainly won’t stop them,” it added, looking at Emilio with a smirk. 

They almost stopped in their tracks as Emilio said that, Wynne looking over at the slayer with wide eyes. That was a detail he’d omitted and, in all fairness, a detail they hadn’t asked after. They hadn’t really felt like asking questions after hearing about Iwan. “You … punched Padrig?” He was a respected community member, someone with power, someone Wynne no longer feared. Still, it was easier to worry about the consequences of that act of violence rather than whatever other consequences awaited them. And then their father, well — they’d rather not comment on that. 

Wynne didn’t want to hurt the people at the commune. While they had recently tapped into their anger for their former family and community, it hadn’t turned into something nefarious. They wanted to kill the demon, to maybe chew their parents out, but the quips about punching the people they’d grown up with made them feel somewhat on edge. They were tired of people getting hurt — were they going to contribute to it now, in more ways than one?

They nodded. “We let them escape if they want to. It’s the demon that needs killing. What they do after that …” Wynne trailed off. “Up to them.” But if Siors were to be caught in the fray, they wouldn’t cry.  “Just try to knock them out if they are trouble.”

The walk was shorter than anticipated and Wynne found themself holding their breath a little, peeling away from the small group as they moved further ahead, staring at the lights of what had once been home. What never could have continued to be home, because if they’d stayed, they’d have been bled out and burned. 

They led them past a barn, around a corner and there, revealed, was the start of stretch of estate. The barn held the animals, who must have been locked up by now due to the hour of night. On their right hand was another barn, which held supplies for farming and then, up ahead, was the beginnings of the small community. Residential buildings, varying in size and age. A few parked bicycles. The building where they had school, but where other group sessions were held. Wynne halted, for a moment. “Just up ahead.” 

As they continued walking, two figures popped out of the barn. Collen and Rhys, smelling of manure and milk. They had missed the smell, they realized angrily. The pair both responded with surprise, perhaps even shock, maybe betrayal. They looked at them with an angry determination.

“Wynne? What’s — who are these –?” Collen was first to speak, quickly interjected by Rhys who stormed up to Emilio and jabbed a finger into his chest. 

“That’s the one who —” Something washed over his face, remembering how he had led Emilio to their community. Rhys had paid for it. He jabbed harder, then grabbed Emilio by the collar. “The intruder, the one who got Padrig, you’d better go and tell ‘em, I’ll —” What would he do? Hold them off, when this trouble might as well have started with him? 

“He was pissing me off,” Emilio mumbled, half defensive and half apologetic. If he’d been speaking to anyone but Wynne, the latter emotion wouldn’t have been present at all, but… This was their community. What Padrig had done, he’d done to them. To their brother. It wasn’t up to him to decide what punishments the man was to face for that, wasn’t his duty to deliver a fist to the stranger’s face. But hearing him talk the way he had about Wynne, about Iwan, about all of it… Emilio had never been very good at pushing his anger down. When it bubbled to the surface, it did so with a vengeance he didn’t care to stop.

Teddy’s arm slung itself over his shoulder, pulling him from his thoughts. He shot a look in their direction, but he didn’t take a swing at them the way he might have a few months ago. If anything, the limb lazily draped around him was a comfort rather than an irritation, a tangible reminder that they hadn’t died in that damn ritual. The look he shot in Levi’s direction was a much darker one, of course. “Wouldn’t need you to stop them. I can handle myself.” Then, to Lil, he added, “Can punch as many as I need to punch. Todos son pendejos. I don’t mind.” Another glance to Wynne, and he was back to apologetic. “But only if we have to.” Even if he’d really, really like to either way.

He trailed along behind the group, doing his best to keep up. Adrenaline numbed some of the pain in his leg, but the limb still wasn’t exactly operational and the walk, while short, was longer than would have been ideal. He knew it was a necessary thing. The ‘getaway car’ they’d procured was good for fitting all of them inside, but it wasn’t exactly subtle. He was pretty sure the horn played some sort of a jingle when it was honked. There was no sneaking it past the gates. He could only assume it was Teddy who’d found it, as it seemed a very Teddy thing to do. The thought filled him with an unfamiliar fondness as he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, absently fiddling with a knife inside.

The landscape was more familiar now. Emilio had entered the compound through the front rather than the side Wynne had led them through, and while that had made the first part of the trek unfamiliar, he had a good idea of where they were now. It was later in the day, but he knew there’d still be people milling about. He kept a vigilant eye out, tensing as two figures approached. One was familiar. Emilio clocked him right away, and the expression on Rhys’s face said that he, too, recognized Emilio with ease. 

To be expected, he guessed. His last visit to the compound hadn’t been conspicuous. 

Still, there was some surprise as Rhys marched forward, finger poking into Emilio’s chest. The slayer blinked, looking down as Rhys grabbed him by the collar. Was he really so offended that Emilio had punched a man who would have sacrificed Rhys in a heartbeat if he’d convinced himself it was what the demon might want? Did he believe so thoroughly in this ‘greater good’ that served only those of a higher station than himself? 

“You should let go,” he said lowly, in a dangerous tone. “And leave, probably. Not too late to get out, wey.” 

Lil noticed the mix of tensions, a few of them trying to keep it light and the rest being resolute to keep hard truths at the forefront. In either case, it was hardly her business to keep civility or keep secrets. So she just shook her head, a smile still playing on her face as she continued to what seemed to be the gates at least for awhile. 

The area felt weird, and Lil wasn’t certain how to describe it other than a pressure that sat near her heart. Maybe it’s because she knew vaguely what was happening here, or maybe it was a sense she didn’t want creeping in. It felt rather similar to that day Jane had - shaking her head she decided to let hauntings lie away from herself. Gripping her good hand closed she muscled through her eyes focused more on the trail itself and noting how to get back than anything else. She couldn’t stop the fear, but she didn’t have to give it a voice either.

She was hardly a diplomat, normally confusing people to get them to let her do what she needed them to do,  but Lil  figured she probably should at least get ready, her eyes flickering between the two almost automatically moving closer to Wynne and whoever the others were in a flash.  While she didn’t tense up, and probably appeared rather relaxed, her foot moved back to keep herself balanced incase she had to do something stupid. She hadn’t realized the strangers would go after Emilio instead. He must have made an impression, but she figured one of the others could help. 

 With a bark of a laugh, sounding less like genuine laughter and more as a distraction trying to pull eyes away from Emilio, she said,  “I would listen to him if I were you. I have a feeling you’re going to want to be able to run later when I think your version of an apocalypse happens. Anyway lovely to meet you! I’d back off now. - Wynne, where? We should move.”  Lil wanted to get to the area as quickly as possible, knowing that it might be impossible to set up well but wanting to try as the timer started clicking. 

They were addressing them, these two men with whom Wynne had shared bread and mead, who had made them laugh. Rhys didn’t seem as kind now as he accosted Emilio who seemed ready to add him to his Protherians-I-Punched list. Wynne focused on Collen in stead, approaching him. “They’re right, you should just go. We’re going where we need to regardless. So go, go and get Anna and Gwen and just go, to your house or down south or wherever.” 

They looked over their shoulder at Lil, nodding up ahead. Collen stared at them with something strange in his eyes and they didn’t know what to make of it. Whether it was hatred or anger or just confusion. Wynne opened their mouth to say something before he could, then heard a crack and saw Rhys stumbling away from Emilio and his fists. A sign to leave. 

And so the group hurried further, past the barns and some of the houses. A few tried to stop them, a few tried to threaten them, a few tried to grab Wynne but if it wasn’t them who kicked them away, it seemed there was someone else ready to stop their former community from bringing them home. At some point their small knife appeared in their hand, their determination and anger growing with every step. None of it scared them any more. 

When they reached the center of the commune, a small crowd had gathered. Wynne ignored them to the best of their ability, not wanting to put names to the voices and the faces even if their mind was already doing so. They looked at the altar, where some candles still burned and the smell of the night’s dinner hung in the air. “There,” they said to Leviathan, and perhaps all the others. “That’s where they worship It.” There’s where they would’ve killed me, where they killed Iwan, where we will kill It.

They turned to some of the onlookers, who looked like Wynne had so many times. Wide-eyed, fearful, as if they wanted to say something but weren’t sure how to do it. Some did speak, calling their name, but they knew they were stronger now than they had been. “I’m here to end it. We are. So you can go, or you can watch like you always have.” Padrig was inching closer, so was Beca, so was — no, they refused to look at their mother. “Without interfering. Like always.”

Rhys didn’t back up, in spite of Emilio’s warning. His grip on the detective’s collar only tightened, expression determined, and Emilio wondered if he would have grabbed Wynne like this had he caught them as they left the compound the night before their execution. Padrig had thought, with everything in him, that there was nothing wrong with what the community did. He’d seemed almost proud of his decision to sacrifice Wynne’s brother in their place, like he ought to be rewarded for his ability to think on his feet rather than condemned for his willingness to take a blade to a child’s throat. 

Was there any forgiving people like this, he wondered? Most of them had been raised here, had lived this way all their life. They weren’t malicious, really; they were compliant. But compliance in this compound was something akin to manslaughter. Standing by and doing nothing as people died was just as bad as killing them yourself. Emilio thought of Lucio, of the way he hadn’t wanted the massacre to happen but was responsible for it all the same. Emilio thought of himself, of his daughter’s blood under his fingernails and the bodies in the street. Was there any difference between holding the knife and handing it to someone? Was there any difference in watching the slaughter and turning away? The blood spilled all the same.

Rhys twisted his grip in Emilio’s shirt, yanking him forward a little, and Emilio saw red. He didn’t realize he’d taken a swing until his knuckles were aching and that grip in his shirt was gone. Rhys was stumbling backwards, holding his nose, and Emilio knew himself well enough to know it was broken. Breaking things, after all, was what he was good at.

He felt no remorse as he turned away and followed Wynne in the other direction. He felt no shame as he punched anyone who came close to them, kicked the knees out from under anyone who tried to grab them. Compliance was its own special kind of sin. It wasn’t the kind of thing that deserved to be forgiven. Not with Wynne’s brother rotting somewhere, not with the haunted look that would never again leave their eyes.

The altar looked unassuming. If one didn’t know better, they might think the blood that stained it was that of an animal. A lamb or a goat, something with meat that could be consumed and fur that could be used to warm you in the winter. Not a child, who’d been wide-eyed and afraid and begged for his parents to save him as they watched the knife be driven home. 

Emilio stood behind Wynne as they turned to the crowd, eyes burning with the heat of his glare. His eyes met Padrig’s, and he tilted his chin up slightly, expression just as unashamed as Padrig’s had been as he’d talked about murdering children at this altar. He glanced to Wynne’s mother, angry at the desperation in her features, at the way she would defend this, even now. She’d lost both her children to this altar, in one way or another. How could she possibly want to protect it now? He thought of Flora, of how he would have burned the entire fucking world to the ground to keep her safe, of how he’d do the same to avenge her now. Neither he nor Wynne’s parents had successfully protected their children, but at least Emilio would do something about it. At least he was spending the rest of his life trying to make up for his failure rather than fighting for it to be repeated. 

“If anyone tries to stop us,” he warned lowly, eyes darting over the crowd, “I’ll stop them. I can promise you this. Ask Padrig. He knows.”

Lil had nodded at Wynne, bolting with them as she heard a crack of a fist against a face, knowing enough that time wasn’t going to be on her side with all these eyes on her. She doubted that the people here knew what an exorcist was - she hardly thought even an arrogant demon would make it known to its flock that there were humans that could hurt it. Still, she wanted to blend in the misfit group as long as she could, if only to not slow them down. 

Kicking people back was easier for her now, her hand wrapped up, and while she absolutely wasn’t built like Jane she’d taken after her sister enough that the people who weren’t suspecting it fell back, a wheel imprint now on their shin. Still she felt herself clenching her fists together causing a burn that was keeping her here for the moment instead of her normal distance that always kicked in doing work. She felt alive, and presented something she wasn’t sure how to take. 

Rushing past the others Lil didn’t bother to consider the crowd for anything other than to make sure they couldn’t grab her, dodging under their hands and questions. Instead she considered the altar and the floor, quickly pulling out bags of salt  and chalk quickly from her bag  getting to work hoping that the people were distracted. She saw the glint of her father’s knife and pulled that as well, putting it into her bad hand ignoring the sting. “Someone - put out those candles,” Lil said, getting on her knees hurriedly and carefully starting to draw a circle as wide as she could without getting close to the group of onlookers. She couldn’t complete it yet, but damn did she not think she’d be able to do all of it with the demon in it. She didn’t think of the altar, the blood that was clearly shed here. Where Wynne would have died if they hadn’t run. She didn’t let the anger settle into her bones yet. She’d need it later. 

Lil had never been religious, never had a fervor of a God false or otherwise, and maybe it showed as she was hardly careful knocking into things as she moved stuff out of the way trying to get the biggest circle she could. After all, the closest God she knew was death, and it would come for all of them eventually, you hardly needed to pray for its eyes to settle on you. Whatever this was, it was just arrogance in the form of divinity, something grotesquely more human than ethereal.  “Fuck-  I’m ready." Christ this place is bumpy, ” Lil said, not bothering to stand up, leaving about the foot of the circle clear, meaning that anything could get in at any point of the circle.  

Without the demonic strength inside them Teddy felt like they were at quite a loss. Silently walking alongside everyone else, passively letting the sudden bouts of violence take their courses. They couldn't go toe to toe with the people here, they were still acclimating to their fully human body. The aches and pains were familiar. Everything else was dulled. Muted. Lifting themself out of bed was a chore now. Or at least a workout. How did humans live like this? 

Well, the other humans were doing just fine. Wynne and Lil had set to their tasks, figured out exactly what they were meant to do. Emilio, mostly human with a bit of spice added into the mix with his slayer abilities, was taking on the role of bodyguard. Dr. Kavanaugh sat vigil at the mayomobile. Ready to drive them all to safety or at least to dinner after this was all done.

The meadow vole was only the first in a series of treasures, each holding a special place in Regan’s expansive collection because she found them while assisting someone she cared for. She stuffed a fox mandible into her pocket and craned her neck back to check on the van. It was her sense of duty that kept her close to the mayo mobile instead of letting her legs whisk her into the woods, following the pull of… wait, were there endangered bog lemmings here? No, stay focused, Kavanagh. 

For a second, she thought she’d willed herself into detecting a lemming. But as death’s beckoning twisted from a tug into a force of nature swirling inside of her, she knew what was coming. 

Did Wynne?

And now there was the choice. As Regan’s eyes darkened, she looked frantically toward the van again. Her lungs swelled. Her throat burned. It was close. And rapidly growing too late to try to contain. Around her, a crowd only she could see gathered, one of them marked for death, and – she tried to buck it away, the scream burning in her esophagus. She needed to see, she realized; if Wynne and the others were going to die, she needed to see. She was responsible for the health of those who were here. This was not one to battle. Regan sprinted as far away from the van as she could, arching herself away from it in a feeble attempt to spare the windows, and the scream thundered out. 

The one with wheels in her shoes was crafting a ritual circle on the ground, and Leviathan wasted no time, making sure it was standing within the boundaries to remain trapped with the other demon once it was summoned.

It motioned to Teddy to come closer, placing a hand on their shoulder and giving them a brief smile. “I'll especially need your help, my boy. Make sure your voice can be heard above the rest, I know you’ve a knack for exceptional pronunciation.” And, in a moment of affection in spite of its natural avoidance of emotions, Leviathan braced that hand against its child’s neck and pressed a kiss to their forehead. “We’ve got this.” It didn’t know if it would have time to say goodbye, after. Truthfully, it didn’t know if this altercation would kill the both of them. There was no telling, no predicting. It had never fought another greater demon, after all.

Allowing Teddy the space to step back, Leviathan started the chant. It was easy to ignore the voices of the cultists around them, shouting at them to stop or asking what they were doing—just white noise. It was about to turn to Wynne to ask them for something when a horrible, ear-piercing scream sounded from the direction of the van they’d left behind. It flinched, gaze jumping from one person to the next. It knew what that was and what it foretold, but as with all things, there was room for misinterpretation. It just hoped that the good doctor’s scream had been for someone other than the people that had ridden here together in that accursed vehicle to end this cyclical violence on behalf of a demon that cared not for their wellbeing.

Every person here had a distinct role to play, Teddy wasn't a hundred percent on theirs until their father whispered just the right words. If there was one thing Teddy fuckin Jones could do well, it was speak. They leaned into the touch, soaking it up as much as they could before taking a step back. Finding their spot amongst the circle where they joined everyone else in the chant. They kept the pace. Even, steady. Every word pronounced just-so. 

Dark brown eyes trained themselves on the circle, on the energy that it exuded. They could almost see it. See the way it writhed and twisted as the ritual kicked up. Teddy imagined the strands locking together and forming a net, keeping a barrier between the chaos that was happening, and that which had only scarcely begun. It was hard to say why, but something about that felt right. Even if it wasn't explicitly part of the ritual. They just had to do whatever necessary to keep the chant going. Keep the  chanters safe. 

Then they heard it too, the shrill wail. Might very well have mistaken it for a particularly enthusiastic fox or fishercat if not for the look on Leviathan’s face. Banshees were rare, Teddy didn’t know all that much about them, but they knew that. Knew what the scream meant. Their mind flicked briefly to the discussion before. Where the old demon admitted that it didn’t know if it was going to make it out. A flash of fear lit up their eyes, then settled into resolve. More drive to do this thing right. 

They were quick to follow Lil’s request, glad to have a task as easy as blowing out candles.  They needed things to focus on, lest their mind slip and they answer some of those calls, look at some of these people too long. Wynne wanted to shrink inside themself and disappear under their gazes, which felt angry and fearful and disappointed. You’re a symbol of reassurance, Wynne, your role ensures a future for us all. Old lessons from Padrig echoed in their mind as they did the opposite. When the greater demon (the one on their team) started the chant, Wynne was glad to have another task to focus on. It remained hard to, with all those familiar voices calling out, with the knowledge that their mother was here, that their father might be too. But none of them moved closer. They all just watched. As they always had.

They barely got far with the chant before being interrupted. A scream carried from the direction they’d come from, loud in a way that had them searching their immediate surroundings first. Though they found no one who could have produced the sound, they found something more troubling — a look of concern on the Leviathan’s face. One of the last things they perhaps wanted to see, now. 

Wynne looked around, saw that Teddy was continuing the chant and they tried to pick up again, trying to just form those strange words with their mouth and hope that whatever worry seemed to spread around was not too large. Still, their eyes darted towards Emilio for some kind of reassurance.

The words he was chanting felt clunky and unfamiliar on his tongue. English was still difficult for Emilio, still something he struggled with more than he’d care to admit, and the words he was muttering now were something even more unfamiliar than that. He tried to keep his eyes from darting to each of the other members of their little party in turn, tried to keep himself from marveling at how naturally the syllables seemed to come to Teddy and Lil or how easily Wynne seemed to pick up on it. He tried not to think about how, if this failed, it would probably be his fault.

And then a scream pierced the air, and he was thinking about something else entirely.

His voice fell off, gaze shooting out towards the woods where they’d left Regan. She could have been in trouble, could have been letting out a scream to defend herself or fight something off… but Emilio knew the more likely scenario here. Banshees screamed when someone was going to die, and they had a group of people here stupid enough to think they could take out a fucking demon without consequence. Did one scream mean one death? Or were they all doomed to fall here? 

His eyes darted to Leviathan, who doubtlessly knew what the sound meant, but the demon didn’t look entirely concerned. Was it because it didn’t plan to stick around for the aftermath anyway? There was a flash of fear in Teddy’s expression as they looked to their father, and Emilio shifted. His eyes found Wynne’s, and he was a little surprised to see them looking to him. As if he was the one they ought to turn to for this sort of thing, as if he were the rock they felt safest to lean against. Something stirred in his gut, something old and almost forgotten but never gone completely. He swallowed the feeling, steeling himself.

If someone was going to die here, he thought, he’d do everything he could to make sure it wasn’t someone who didn’t deserve it. Wynne hadn’t escaped this altar just to suffer the same fate as their brother who’d bled out atop it. Teddy hadn’t survived the ritual with Leviathan just to perish to another demon. Lil hadn’t spent months with Jonas searching for her family just to die before she found them. If Regan’s scream meant what Emilio suspected it did, he’d make sure it was earned. Even if that meant falling on the blade himself.

Mind made up, he offered Wynne a small nod of reassurance and went back to his clumsy chanting. They hadn’t died on this altar on the day their community had chosen for them, and they wouldn’t die here today, either. Emilio would make sure of it.

Lil didn’t bother moving from the ground, seeing Wynne move to blow out the candles it would be easier for her to do what she needed from the ground. Unwrapping her hand she looked at the fresh cut and accepted it. Taking her father’s knife she ran it across cringing and trying to hide it from Wynne as she put the knife down on the edge of the circle, her blood now tied to the circle. 

She knew even before coming here it was going to be demanded of her. Exorcism rituals were based on will, purely putting your soul against another's, and a part of that was willing to show that you could die. Every ritual was Lil saying that she accepted the fact that she could die, and with Greater Demons that determination was greater. If she was going to keep the son of a bitch in her ritual needed to reflect her willingness to keep.  It’s why now she gripped her father’s knife, something more akin to rage than she ever felt holding onto her mother’s necklace. She wasn’t sure which one was focusing her, but she didn’t need to know.  “I’m ready, when you all are.”  Watching the Leviathan enter she nodded, starting the chant along with the others. 

Hearing a scream Lil cringed fighting the urge to put her hands over her ears. For a moment there was a panic in her heart, remembering the sea and the water surrounding her before she shook her head and gritted her teeth, hands turning into fists reflexively before the pain of it released it.  She didn’t know what it was, or why it seemed like an omen, but she wasn’t going to fear dying. Not again. Instead she pushed out a sigh as she continued the chant, readying for the moment that she’d have to change to trap the demon. Her right hand poised to fill in the circle. Fear be damned she wasn’t going to let the demon out when it finally came out to show itself. Coward. 

“Wynne,” Leviathan called, gaze focused on the altar as it spoke over its shoulder. The rest of them carried on with the chant, Teddy’s voice loud and clear and leading the chorus of alien words. “We will need a sacrifice. You may pick one of these villagers, or I will choose one at random. Select quickly, and bring them to me. The stench of death offered in its name will help lure Wyvss’Kgorr here.” It cast its gaze to Wynne now, who was undoubtedly trying to figure out what to do and who to choose. Eyebrows raised in a silent request to hurry, it resumed the chanting, glancing up at the sky to see it darkening as a sudden storm began to brew overhead. 

Good. It was working. Leviathan could recall what it felt like to be summoned in this manner, and right about now, Wyvss’Kgorr was probably feeling an irritation at the back of its throat, if it had one.

Inevitably, the Leviathan called their name and showed its hand. There was a prize to pay besides that fear they had given it, something that would weigh on their soul rather than make it lighter. Wynne looked at it, with unblinking and wide eyes and a surge of indignation. Emilio had been right. They should have known — demons were treacherous, and would always want more, but they had hoped, foolishly and stupidly and to no avail at all.

Lips parted to answer, but no words followed, not even the chant they were supposed to be doing. Something constricted in them, a strange kind of disbelief at the position they found themself in. The cries of their former community buzzing in their ears the way the locusts must have when the plagues had ravaged the world. It was the same calculation all of them had always made, wasn’t it? Kill one to save the many. But wasn’t it different? This time it would break the cycle. It had to.

One would die, whether they were to be the one to choose them or not. They could not abandon mission now, tell everyone to turn back — some of them wouldn’t. So Wynne looked, searching for one of the guiltiest faces. Siors, they didn’t see, so their eyes fell on Padrig, whose voice echoed in their mind still. Who had suggested they bring Iwan to the altar in stead. Who’d always told them there was no higher honor than dying for others. 

Let him do it, then. Let him fulfill the duty he had always spoken so highly of, when it was them that was bound to die.

And so Wynne pointed to him, with a mixture of shame and rage. “Padrig,” they spoke, and Emilio would know and with that, maybe all of them would. But they couldn’t move, couldn’t drag him up, they could only let their finger drop and look at the demon whose deal demanded a human sacrifice too even if it had once called it lacking in imagination. Maybe it had lied, then. Or maybe these things were simply inevitable, the way death always seemed to be.

Wynne cast their eyes around and swallowed, before trying to join in on the chant again. 

A sacrifice. There it was — the kicker. Emilio had known, hadn’t he? Things couldn’t be as simple as chanting complicated words in a circle. Wanting something wasn’t enough — you had to spill blood for it to mean something. That was how it always was, how things were meant to go. Wynne had trusted Levi, and Levi had hidden a crucial piece of the puzzle from them. Would they have still come, had they known?

Emilio realized with a start that he would have. He didn’t know when it had become the truth, didn’t know when he’d become the kind of person who would sacrifice a human in order to rid the world of a demon. He didn’t think he’d always been this way. Years ago, maybe even months ago, he would have balked at the notion. He would have insisted on finding some other way. But now? 

Wynne wanted their freedom, and they’d earned that. The men and women who surrounded them, the villagers who had done nothing as children were slaughtered, who had put Wynne’s brother on an altar after Wynne themself had the gall to escape a fate that never should have been theirs to carry… What that they earned? Emilio thought he had a pretty good idea.

Wynne’s index finger found Padrig, and their voice sealed his fate. They made no move to step forward, so Emilio did it for them. He set his jaw, he squared his shoulders. He marched into the crowd and grabbed Padrig by the shirt, and no one moved to stop him. Was it fear or relief that froze them where they stood? Did they want it to be over just as much as Wynne did? They’d watched children die here. Watching a grown man meet a fate he deserved should have been so easy in comparison.

Padrig was protesting, was squirming, was wailing, but Emilio could scarcely hear him over the rush of blood in his ears. Iwan must have screamed and thrashed, too. Would Wynne have been just as terrified had it been them on the altar? 

(He faltered for a moment, trying not to think of the terrified child whose blood he could never wash out from beneath his nails. Flora was everywhere to him, but she couldn’t be here. He couldn’t do what he needed to do if she was here.)

He brought Padrig into the circle, tossing him in front of Levi and pretending that his hands weren’t shaking as he shoved them into the pockets of his jeans. “Do what you need to do,” he said lowly, “and end it.”

Padrig squealed and wriggled like a piglet picked up before it knew to trust grabbing hands. Wynne watched, not afraid but only angry, and repeated the sentiment Padrig and all the others had told them, whenever they’d been upset, “You have to be calm, Padrig, so they know it will be alright. They’re all looking to you now, don’t you want to reassure them that it will be alright?” 

It was proud of Wynne in that moment, turning the words they’d undoubtedly heard all their life upon what it could only assume was one of the men that always spoke them. Void below, humans were stupid. Believing a thing like a greater demon was worth their worship and devotion… it was an old story, but one that was never any less grating. And why? Why did it care? 

Because it liked them. Wynne, Teddy, Emilio. Humans, though some of them had a little extra something. Hell, even the girl that’d drawn the ritual circle, though it didn’t know her well. Even the banshee they’d left behind. It wasn’t just humans, Leviathan realized. It was every creature of this dimension. It liked all of them. So much so that it had become like them in many ways, further distancing itself from the kind of demon that would do this—what Wyvss’Kgorr was doing. What many of them did. 

Its gaze moved from Wynne to Emilio, who had dropped the sniveling man in front of it and told it to get on with it. Padrig, as he was known, looked terrified. His eyes kept jumping between Wynne and the demon that stood in front of him, though he knew not whom he faced. “Please,” he begged, moving like he was going to try and run. Leviathan reached out and grabbed him by the throat, looking again at Emilio. “Thank you,” it breathed as it nodded at him, a silent gesture to remove himself from the circle, quickly. It then turned to Lil, and nodded again. “Seal it.”

Once there would be no escape for Wyvss’Kgorr (or itself), Leviathan looked Padrig in the eyes, its own shifting color to their more natural seafoam green. “I want you to know that you’ve done a great disservice to these people. Wyvss’Kgorr, your gythraul, is not a thing to be worshiped. It is an alien, like me, and you mean nothing to it. None of you ever did. This was a game. Entertainment.” It snapped the man’s neck before scanning the crowd, recognizing the anger and horror in their eyes. The body was dragged forward and dumped at the base of the altar, and Leviathan’s form continued to shift. Claws ripped through fingertips, which the demon used to slice Padrig open from collarbone to groin, spilling his blood upon the altar. It resumed the chant that everyone else had been so diligently performing, this time calling out to Wyvss’Kgorr directly. Challenging it. The demon stepped away again, doubling over on itself as its back split in half to make room for the thing inside to get out. It slithered and hoisted itself free from the host, too massive a beast for so small a package, slicked with viscera. A sea monster, augmented to move with ease upon land. Instead of fins or flippers, it had massive clawed feet. A mouth designed for ripping and tearing, long maw serrated with rows of razor sharp teeth, predatory eyes forward-facing and filled with bloodlust. It howled in the foreign language now, gaze turned up at the stormy sky. 

Wyvss’Kgorr felt it. Heard it. And as it conjured itself a portal to see just what the fuck was going on with the commune of humans it had bent to its will, it was met with a surprise. The expected scene was not so typical, and instead of being met with the sight of its loyal followers, the greater demon was met with enormous jaws that reached into its dimension and bit down on its head. 

It screamed, like metal grating on metal, so intensely loud that it shook the earth. Lkrak’Oaazhir wrenched back, dragging the equally huge monstrosity into their dimension and hooking it with its claws. So it began.

Within moments the fight was raging. Each demon banged against the unseen barrier like it was a physical wall rather than a circle of chalk and salt. Teddy's heart raced with every slam, every bite or claw. It was imperative that they kept the chant going, but it was hard not to gasp or scream out as the giant beasts gnawed and gnashed teeth on scales and chitinous plaques. 

All at once the world was going far too fast and in slow motion. The strange demon reared its massive head and went in for a gargantuan bite right on Leviathan's neck. "NO!" Teddy reacted instinctively, raising their arm as an unfamiliar surge of energy welled up and pushed through them like lightning. A shimmering field of teal blue caught the demon's teeth before they could rend into their father's flesh. A shuddered breath rippled through Ted's chest as they stared in disbelief. What the hell was that? Was that… did they do that?! The teal flash certainly matched the glow their monstrous form used to carry, but… it shouldn't have been possible. 

They were supposed to be just human now…right?

She didn’t say anything seeing the man dragged over, and part of her might have been weary of it; she didn’t get the sense that the man had been a bad one. The exorcist, who often straddled the line of life and death, wasn’t one to stop its procession for most part. She had to believe there was a reason for it. 

Lil braced herself as she saw Levi move to the circle and told her to seal it. So she did the chalk in her hand matching the two ends together, the exorcist did the only demonology she’d ever known. Lowly, to not confuse the others, Lil started on the chant her sister had taught her - sealing the circle into a barrier for the two giant demons who were now fighting. Her blood sealing the circle glowing a light red as she started yet another deadly situation. Another fight. One that this was her only part in.

The ritual  was hard. Lil wasn’t used to hearing all the noises happening, and after a moment she closed her eyes knowing that she couldn’t stutter for a moment or relax her grip on her father’s knife. She could handle most things, but seeing demons fight? She didn’t think she needed that vision in her brain for the rest of her life slowly letting the fear settle there. She’d much rather not know. So if she had to hear it she wouldn’t see it. Still, every slam to her walls she felt, although not in a way she could describe to others. She imagined her soul was being bruised, but it was staying together as long as she was. She would stay together ignoring everything but this barrier until it was over. Whatever over might look like.   

They watched in anger as Padrig was held in place by his throat. Fear remained absent in a way that would make them hollow if there weren’t plenty of other emotions to take its place. And now that there was no space within them to fear their seniors any more, what else was there but anger? What else was there but distaste for the plea that slipped past Padrig’s lips? Wynne poured that anger into the words they spoke, foreign on their tongue but an anchor of sorts. 

It was strange, to not be afraid. It seemed only now that they weren’t, they were realizing how much fear had constricted their body before. Its absence was a presence, Wynne aware they didn’t fear the knowledge that their parents saw them, that all of the people watching them must think something of them. It stripped them from the inhibitions that had ruled their life, the very structure they’d grown up in and now there was nothing more they wanted to do besides destroy that structure. Tear it. 

And though it was a gruesome sight, the neck of their former mentor being snapped, and though something in their gut pulled – not out of fear, but something else, something like guilt and two decades of conditioning coming undone – they remained focused. There was no way but through. (That was something Padrig had said too, once, and now he was dead.) They continued to chant as the Leviathan showed its through form and Padrig was bled out like a lamb. Tongue stumbled over the words, but they were like a verbal circle that kept chasing its own tail, repeated and repeated again. 

There It was, the demon who would have taken their corpse as a gift and devoured it. A cacophony of cracking bones and demonic screaming filled the air and Wynne was staring, unable to look away and forgetting themself, the words halting. There It was. The root of the problem. The base on which the structure of their life had been built, the foundation of the place that surrounded them. There It was, challenged. Caught between invisible walls, fighting an entity as strong – or hopefully stronger – than It. 

There It was, the reason their brother was dead. Wynne remembered their newfound purpose, and continued their chant, voice growing louder and more forceful with every syllable.

The snap of Padrig’s neck breaking seemed to reverberate, crawling into Emilio’s bones, too. He should have felt something. Guilt, maybe. Regret. He’d handed a man over to a demon knowing that it would kill him, had stepped out of the circle to let it happen without looking back at all. He’d done something slayers weren’t meant to do, and he should have felt something for it, even briefly. But the only thing he could manage was a numb satisfaction as he remembered how proud Padrig had been of the children he’d killed, how righteous he’d acted. There were people who didn’t deserve saving, and there were people who did. Padrig might have been the former, but Wynne would always be the latter. And this? This ritual, these demons going to war with one another in a circle held together by an exorcist and a prayer he didn’t understand? This was how they could be saved.

There wasn’t much for Emilio to do outside the circle. His chanting was unsteady and uncertain, the words not fitting quite right with his accent, but he spoke them anyway. It was difficult to watch the violence unfolding within the circle and not take place in it. He was so rarely a spectator to violence; all his life, he’d been an active part of it. The sidelines were an uncomfortable place to be. He situated himself between Teddy and Wynne, ensured he could watch them both out of the corner of his eye while keeping his main focus on the action. 

He sucked a breath when it looked like Wynne’s demon (whose name he couldn’t begin to fit into his mind) was going for Leviathan’s throat, but… something stopped it. Teddy yelled, and something stopped it. A familiar blue that left the slayer’s brow furrowed. He glanced to Teddy from the corner of his eye, but they seemed just as confused. A little more, maybe. Emilio kept his eyes on them a moment longer before turning back to the fight, ignoring the strange feeling in his stomach. No time for that now; no time for anything but the battle raging on.

Lkrak’Oaazhir had braced itself for the bite, but none came. Its eyes swiveled in its head, body weight pushing back against Wyvss’Kgorr to pin it against the barrier, a vicious hiss snaking past bared fangs as a violent, crackling energy exploded with the demon’s contact with the barrier. That monstrous gaze met Teddy’s for the briefest of moments, then slowly blinked. Excellent work, it complimented them before snapping its head to the side and sinking its fangs into Wyvss’Kgorr’s neck, mirroring what the demon had attempted to do to it only moments before. 

Clawed hands gripped the demon by the shoulders, massive weight pushing it down along the barrier until its back met the earth. Jaws bit down harder, black ichor filling Lkrak’Oaazhir’s mouth and dribbling out the sides. A hind leg of the reptilian beast found purchase on Wyvss’Kgorr’s underside, shredding it with quick but deliberate motions. They were otherworldly creatures, yes. Aliens to this world, powerful beyond measure, and infinite. But they still bled, and they could still die. 

Wyvss’Kgorr howled in agony before trying to do the same with its own hands and feet, kicking and trashing and digging into Lkrak’Oaazhir’s thick hide where it could, drawing similarly dark blood. But the sea demon did not relinquish its grip on the creature’s throat, biting harder still and feeling the other demon wheeze in response. And it knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the tide had only turned this quickly because of the chanting the others were doing that was weakening it. Without that… well, the demon didn’t want to think about it.

Back to the brink with you, it pressed into Wyvss’Kgorr’s mind as its fangs sank as deep as they could go. With that, Lkrak’Oaazhir wrenched its head first one way, then the next, holding the other demon’s body down while pulling away from it with its head, until a massive chunk of flesh ripped free. The meat was cast aside and the sea demon went in for a second bite, jaws finding bone this time and snapping through them with an equally violent shake of its head. 

Wyvss’Kgorr went silent and its body went limp as Lkrak’Oaazhir dropped it back to the earth, turning then to the audience of humans that stared at it. It bared blackened teeth in a snarl before settling its body in the grass, waiting patiently for the barrier to be lifted.

Teddy Jones had seen death enough to know when it took the greater demon. Even before the final blow had been made, there was a reaction. An acceptance, in a way. The demon bent to a force far greater than its own, and it ended the only way it was ever going to end. With Leviathan on top, successful, bloodied, but alive. A half-astonished shock still rooted the chanters in place. Still had them fixated on the words that were no longer necessary. The crowd around them erupted in various forms of panic. Some shouts of despair, some relief, some fury, filled the air. But none made a move to advance on the group. 

Finally, Ted was able to breathe, to catch themself before they fell. There was an energy unlike anything they’d ever felt before coursing through them. Unlocked by the first ritual, fueled by the next. The very same that sent that barrier out just in time to protect their father. To give the advantage where it was needed. Was it luck or something bigger? Something new? Teddy didn’t have time to figure that out right then. They needed to get out of there. They needed to tear down the circle so Levi could get out, and pile everyone back in the mayo mobile and get the fuck to safety. Who knew when one of the court of demonic playthings was liable to attempt something monumentally stupid.  

They rushed silently to Lil’s side, champion demon wrangler and circle drawer of the group. “Hey- hey you’re good. We're good.” Dark eyes scanned the rest of the group with just a huge surge of relief and joy just behind the stress. “We’re done here.” They announced, almost surprised at it themself. A smile twitched at the corners of their lips. Teddy rushed back to where they were before. To Emilio and Wynne, where their grin only grew. Delight blossomed, they threw their arms around their newly liberated friend, lifting them and spinning in a moment of impulsive glee. 

“You’re free, kid. What do you wanna do now?”  

Lil didn’t realize when the fighting was done, the sting of her hand and concentration pointed as she kept the barrier up her soul feeling like it was bouncing around in a small box. It felt like she’d been doing it for hours, her arms shaking ever so slightly from the strain that no one could see. It was hard, and while rituals usually made her feel powerful this one just seemed to drain it. Still she kept it, until she heard one of the others in the group say that it was done. 

Opening her eyes, she confirmed it as Teddy came over saying she was done, dropping the knife to the ground and feeling the lines dissipate as she saw what she had hoped was the Leviathan standing there. The ritual dissipated almost immediately and so did all of the energy Lil had.  Glancing over she nodded to Teddy a light thanks, one  she didn’t speak instead moving to her bag to get more bandages and to put the knife away giving her a moment to breathe. She’d have to hope the Doc could wrap her up better as she staggered up from her position, her body heavy and tired. Free hand now wrapping up the cut again and kicking the chalk. 

“You should be free to move. I’m not going to try and find you again so don’t worry about me, kay? ” Lil muttered at Levi before turning to smile at Wynne and give a rather half assed thumbs up with her right hand. “Yeah, let's go rob a bank - kidding. Well, maybe in a few weeks. We should head out before they get any ideas,” Lil said with a laugh as she moved slowly forward, careful not to fall body still weak. 

It was a gruesome sight, but something about it was righteous, was poetically just. As the Leviathan bit down onto its throat, Wynne thought of how the knife had met Jac’s throat and bled him dry. They imagined, despite their attempt not to, their brother being cut open in a similar spot. And though this blood looked completely dissimilar from the blood that had stained the altar before, it was still blood being spilled. 

But this time, it was deserved. This time the sacrifice was worth something. This time it would end, not just for a few years but for all the time to come.

So why did they not feel glorious when it ended? When that goat-like, massive demon became undone and fell limp? They looked at their former people, at the wide and horrified eyes of those they would have died for, in a former life. Wynne stared at them and wondered if they’d hate them now or thank them. Whether they should even care. They found themself trying to find Evan, the one whose head would be next on the chopping block and when their eyes laid on him they felt a surge of righteousness once more. He’d be able to live, the way they were able to as well. They way their brother never could. Would he ever understand, what was evaded for him tonight? He was so young, so frail, so confused — and they knew they’d once looked like that too. 

Lost in their thoughts, overwhelmed by distant numbness and exhaustion, they were surprised as they were lifted off the ground, spun around by Teddy who radiated a happiness they couldn’t feel yet. Wynne looked at them, blinked at Lil with her ridiculous yet amusing suggestion and was surprised to note that their face was wet with tears. Whether they were from grief or relief, they didn’t know. It didn’t matter. They let them flow.

“I just want to go home,” they hiccuped. Home, which wasn’t here any more and hadn’t been in quite some time. Home, away from these staring eyes and people who they had known all their life but didn’t know at all. They glanced at the Leviathan with wide, wet eyes. “Thank you.” Then, a decisive nod. “Let’s go.”

The thing about death, the thing that made it seem so… strange, so jarring, was that it was over in an instant. Dying could take a while, sure — it stretched on for years, sometimes, drained people slow — but death itself was there and gone in a blink. It was one heartbeat that didn’t give way to another, one breath that emptied out lungs that would never be refilled. The dying could drag, the grief might never end. But death? Death was a split second thing, a simple one. Leviathan’s jaws closed around the other demon’s throat, and that was it. That was all there was to it. Death came and went in the time it took Emilio to force one syllable of the unfamiliar words through his teeth.

It still didn’t feel over. His eyes darted to Teddy, who was seeing to the exorcist, to Levi, still monstrous in the circle, to Wynne, their eyes scanning the crowd. The last one earned his full attention. He watched the way they moved, the way the tension in their shoulders didn’t quite release. Death, he knew, was only ever the end for the thing doing the dying. 

He reached up, put a careful arm around Wynne as the grief overtook them. The gesture was an unfamiliar one, not something that had been in his arsenal for long. It was borrowed from Zane on the couch in his living room, from Arden in her car after she’d been afraid he was dead, from Rhett in the forest floor a few miles away from where their family’s corpses lay in new graves. This wasn’t a comfort Emilio had learned when he was Wynne’s age, but it was one he was unpacking now. Uncertain and a little stiff, but genuine all the same.

“Yeah,” he agreed. His eyes darted up to Leviathan’s, gratitude not spoken but communicated with a look all the same. The same look was passed to Lil, who looked half conscious where she stood. Something else was in his eyes as they moved to Teddy, unreadable and unknown even to him. Then, back to Wynne, and his expression softened. “Yeah,” he said again. “Let’s get you home. Come on, kid.”

Rising to its feet again now that the barrier was down, Leviathan let out an exhausted hiss of breath. The confusion in the eyes of those that stared up at it, the ones it had not come here with, who owed it nothing but fear and perhaps anger, felt oppressive. It could offer them some words of wisdom, but truthfully it didn’t much care what they thought, and had no desire to step up onto any kind of soapbox. They were fools, and they would likely remain so to the ends of whatever they decided to make of their lives now. The only thing it would do was turn on the commune and release a threatening growl, as if warding them away from its companions. It watched them scatter for a few moments before returning its attention to the small group, taking a few lumbering steps towards them.

I must leave you here, it spoke privately to them, looking to Wynne. Enjoy your freedom, young one. For Lil, the demon gave a solemn, respectful nod. Then, its head turned to Teddy. And you… It lowered itself and pressed the tip of its bloodied muzzle against the human’s chest, closing those many eyes. I will find you again, as soon as I am able. The request it had made of Emilio some time ago was on the forefront of its mind as it gave the hunter one final glance, and a tear formed in the air beside it, creating a vacuum for a brief second before balancing out. Beyond the rip, an endless ocean. The Leviathan rose back to its full height and sucked in a deep breath, then stuck its head through the rip. The rest of it followed quickly, floating up from the earth as it passed between dimensions, seawater leaking from the fracture in reality as it stitched itself shut again once the demon was through. 

There was a bright flash of light, and then it was gone, leaving only a puddle behind.

Teddy knew this part was coming. The brightness of the victory had overshadowed it right up until the nose of the great beast pressed into their chest. They felt themself sinking. All of that joy and relief just melting away in a moment of harrowed grief. The concrete weights around their ankles, rooting them in position as they shared their last moments for a long time with their father. 

Perhaps last moments ever, a not-so-small part of their brain nagged. The part that still liked to taunt Teddy with all of their shortcomings, and how everyone around would eventually leave because of them. This wasn’t that. Leviathan promised to find them again. They knew it was temporary, it had to be but– But Teddy wasn’t ever great at goodbyes. 

Their head swiveled around. A ringing in their ears drowning them to all noise except the thrum of their heart in their chest. A distraction, they needed a distraction. And they probably weren’t the only one, either. Dark eyes scanned the horizon, and settled on one of the few things not scattering with the rest of the crowd. A small shaggy lamb, tied to a post nearby. As if it was next on the chopping block. Wordlessly, the ex-demon strode over. Started to untie the thing and picked it up in their arms. It wriggled for a moment but settled when it realized the cradling limbs around it meant no harm. 

“This is ours. We’re taking it. Right Wynne?”  Ted’s ears still droned with the sound of distant waves, but holding the shaking creature was grounding. Offering the choice to Wynne was empowering. Or at least they hoped it was. “We can tell Regan this is Levi now.” 

Lil waited, letting the demon leave, hearing her sister’s voice screaming at her to not. Still, she had chosen a long time ago that demons and the like weren’t on her. So instead she turned to Wynne who was crying. Asking to go home. It struck her for a moment, the other’s age coming into sharp focus. It was something that reminded her of her brother, who was now waiting for her to get back. He would have cried too, Lil thought, sharing with Wynne in the relief and sadness of all this. Lil couldn’t though, she didn’t have that capacity so she just slowly waked and said with a short nod, “Yeah, let's get you home. Wynne. The doc’s expecting us and -.”

She paused for a moment realizing that she was going to probably be in trouble without the demon they had brought - even though they seemed to be fine just gone. She’d just have to explain - until Ted seemed to think of it too, bringing a lamb that seemed as shaken as the youth in front of them.  With that she couldn’t help the tired laugh come out at the solution. She didn’t say anything though, leaving the choice between the two. 

Shaking her head the tired exorcist  said softly, “Uh anyone got an arm I can lean on? I can walk but I’m probably going to take a while. Really not cut out for demonology it seems. Feel like I went through a dryer and a hobble is my fastest speed now.” 

Maybe all of the people of the commune were scared, and that explained why they didn’t reach for Wynne now. Besides, their mother had never reached for them even when they’d been her dutiful child, so why would she know? Still, she looked with wide eyes, trying to grasp the gaze of one of the people she’d called family and saw only cowardice. But that gap left by their unwillingness to move forward was filled. By Teddy lifting them up, Emilio embracing them, even Lil’s determined nod. 

This wasn’t a place for them any more. But there was another one. They swallowed, the flow of tears halting as they watched the ocean appear in a rip through time and space, the scent of the sea filling the air. They blinked their own salty water away, rubbing at an eye before leaning into Emilio some more and watching the Leviathan take leave. 

Eyes looked for Teddy, an apology at the ready but instead there they were, rescuing a lamb. A poorly looking one, one that would never qualify for a large ritual — but a small one, sure. They looked at the small thing, wanted to look for Ewan again and tell him he was free now, wanted to tell them all that they could be free now. But they just nodded. “We’re taking it.” Another soul saved. They even let out a wet laugh. “Yes. The resemblance is uncanny.” 

Wynne looked at Lil with a worried look in their eyes, wondering if maybe they’d asked too much from the exorcist. “Yes, come, you can lean on me.” They stuck an arm under the other’s shoulder, taking some of her weight as they considered asking Emilio to just carry Lil. Instead, they started moving, away from those people and the former home, wondering if they’d return again, some day. For now, though, they just wanted home, for the woman she was helping to be aided and to sit in that sour-smelling car.

—

He ached for Teddy, knowing what was coming. This had always been the plan. The ending was written before they started the story at all, carved into the cement and hardened there. Levi was leaving, because Levi was always going to leave. But Teddy wasn’t alone. Emilio met the massive demon’s eye, remembering the promise it had asked of him in their last conversation. The conversation itself hadn’t gone so well — conversations with Emilio rarely did — but the promise remained. He nodded once, determination coloring his features. He’d keep an eye on Teddy, because somebody had to. Because they might deserve better, but they wanted him. 

He glanced up as the idiot in question moved away from the group, distracted by… a lamb? Emilio rolled his eyes. “I’m not carrying it for you,” he said dryly, but Wynne seemed lighter now, so he didn’t say anything more. Whatever made the two of them happy. Whatever they needed. 

Lil came over, leaning against Wynne who Emilio still had an arm around. The detective grabbed Teddy as they walked, keeping a hand on the small of their back and telling himself it was to keep them from acquiring any more lambs on the journey back to the van. Truthfully, he knew it was something more than that. The remaining group, all gathered like this and leaning on one another, made him feel a little stronger, a little more like they’d done something decent. It felt like a victory, when they were like this. Teddy with their lamb, Wynne free of that ax that had been hanging over their head since birth, Lil successful in her brief stint as a demonologist… It felt like they’d won, even with the blood on the altar and the body on the ground.