#monstersfear

“It–it didn’t work.” The earth continued to rumble and crack, the lightning of concrete and dirt growing with each thundering pulse of energy from White Crest. Metzli stood there, watching helplessly, unable to coordinate another plan as everyone stood behind them. Cass, Teddy, Emilio, Teagan, Patricia, and Eilidh agreed to ensure the plan worked, to stay just outside the town’s boundaries in case they needed to step in or keep running. 

And it was so funny, wasn’t it? Decades of being a strategist, with backup plan after backup plan, and now, when the world was ending—arguably the most important moment in Metzli’s life—they were coming up with nothing. “It was supposed to work! I don’t understand! Twelve sacrifices for each hour. All the books—Leah said—fuck! Fuck!” Abigail and Lil, and all those people had given their lives, believing they were doing the right thing. The very thought made Metzli sink to their knees, their heart aching and wishing for some other way. “All those volunteers…it was supposed to—”

Then, it hit them.

“The thirteenth hour.” Metzli practically whispered to themself, rising to their feet and stumbling as dry earth burst open. The sinkhole was going to reach the city limit if they didn’t act fast. If Metzli didn’t do something. “We forgot about the thirteenth hour. Teagan–you were in it.” She nodded with her brows furrowing together, as if she knew where they were going with their thought. She did. She looked down at Eilidh with a somber expression, not saying a word as Metzli continued. “You and that Sol guy, right? If it exists, it has to be the missing part. We need…” Their eyes fell at the realization they knew no one would want to say aloud. Avoiding everyone’s faces, Metzli continued, preparing for the inevitable rebuttals. Especially on Eilidh’s part. Maybe even more especially on Cass’s. “There has to be one more…sacrifice.” The final word hung heavy in the air, and Metzli didn’t lift their head. Doing so would make them think twice, and there just wasn’t enough time for that.

Eilidh was the first to surge forward, putting together what her partner was really saying. Her nails dug impossibly deep into their skin, drawing blood, and Metzli could’ve sworn they felt them in their heart. The two of them were supposed to have a new start, and they were effectively telling her they never would. Her screams filled their ears, her pleas making it nearly impossible to submit themself to what they needed to do. Whispering sweet nothings in her ears, she clung to them, and they finally rose their head to acknowledge everyone they loved, tears streaming down their fearful expression.

Rhett was dead. The ground was shaking, the world was ending, Rhett was dead, and it felt so much like Etla that Emilio could see Jaime’s body in the street just a few feet away staring at him with unseeing eyes. Nausea tugged at his gut, and it took everything he had just to keep his goddamn lunch down, just to keep himself standing on his own two feet. 

And the worst part, he thought, was that it was all for nothing. Rhett stayed behind to play the fucking hero, did the exact goddamn thing he’d forbidden Emilio from doing, and it was all for nothing. Emilio lost the only brother he had left for nothing. The world was still ending. They were still going to die. It might have felt like a relief if he weren’t so goddamn angry about it.

Metzli was speaking then, and it took a moment for Emilio to tune back in to the conversation, took a moment for him to pull himself back into the present and away from the bodies in the street that had rotted away to dust in another country years ago, but when his mind caught up, he understood what they were saying. 

Twelve people stayed behind. And there should have been one more.

Immediately, Emilio stepped forward. He locked eyes with Metzli, tilting his head in a silent question. He’d do it, if he had to. He’d be breaking a million promises — to Rhett, to Teddy, to people no longer around to care, but fuck, it’d be worth it. He chose to live. He chose that. Maybe it didn’t matter if he didn’t stick to it. Maybe choosing it once was enough.

The ground trembled beneath her feet, and Cass stumbled in a wild attempt to stay upright. It should have stopped by now, shouldn’t it? All those people who’d stayed behind, all those people who’d given everything to stop it… It should be over by now. The fact that it wasn’t was bound to be a bad sign, and maybe — maybe they all should have known better. Maybe they should have realized that things couldn’t be this simple. 

Maybe some things weren’t meant to work out.

Cass’s heart was in her throat, because she didn’t want to die. She didn’t want to fall into a hole in the world where no one would ever find her, didn’t want her life to end when it felt like it had really only just begun. Superheroes died for their causes, sometimes, but in the comics, they always came back after. Death wasn’t so temporary in reality. 

But then, Metzli came to a realization that was almost worse, somehow. They spoke, and Cass felt her stomach clench because she knew exactly what they were saying. She stepped towards them a moment after the hunter holding Teddy’s hand did, eyes sliding nervously to the man as she shuffled a little farther away from him and locked her gaze onto Metzli’s. 

“No,” she said firmly, shaking her head. “Metzli, no. You — You said we were going to leave together. You promised that. Let someone else do it.” She didn’t mean to glance back to the hunter as she said it, but maybe she did anyway. “You get to live now. You get that. Please, Metzli.”

The crumbling canyon before them was a ripping, yawning, hollow thing. Bleakly mirroring the expressions on those who stood around the edge. Teddy heard, yes. Teddy processed the meaning moments after the words came from Metzli’s mouth. His grip on Emilio’s hand and stubborn feet maybe the only thing keeping the hunter from rushing in without even knowing what he was going to even do about it. Teddy was doing it again. Flushed cheeks on a paling face. Slowly becoming about as ghost white as the crackles of energy that seeped up and out of the ground before them. Stuck in his spot. Unable to move. But if it wasn’t fear that was keeping him rooted, what was it? Despair? Rage? 

The florist (Well, was it even fair to call him a florist anymore? Twice now his shops had been swallowed completely by something all consuming and unstoppable. At least this time they weren’t alone. Though that thought was far more bitter than it should have been.) echoed the younger girl’s words. “No.” Firm, hurt, but lined with a breathy desperation that threatened to tumble outward should he say anything else. He finally forced himself to look over. Too much distance and too many people he loved stood between him and his appa. Fuck. Teddy was just getting used to that. To family. Each face painted a different portrait of grief. Emilio’s loss of another brother, Cass and the home she’d finally built for herself, Eilidh and the life they were about to create. And Metzli. Something determined and sad behind those eyes. A hungry thing Teddy recognized immediately as resolution. 

“There’s gotta– anyone else. Please. There’s so many people out there who could– anyone else.” It was pretty clear. The people there were among the few Teddy Jones would do literally anything for. Except allow them to die. Except allow them to be the final sacrifice in a pyrrhic victory against the town that raised Ted. The town that was set to raze the rest of the planet if someone didn’t intervene. There had to be another way. Anything. Anything would be better than losing a single one of them. 

— 

Despite the ravenous trembling of the ground beneath her, Patricia’s feet remained planted, looking on at the city that had attempted to make a massacre of its own population. It took her a bit longer than it should’ve to realize what Metzli was implying, what grim resolution to the problem they’d come up with, but it still hurt all the same. They were a close friend, one of the closest besides Teagan, and somebody she thought would become a parent-in-law someday in the future, but like all things, that innocent thought was cut short. Life was unfair, and cruel, but those words were understatements for the irony of Metzli sacrificing themself after already having given so much to the town and its people. 

A stunned silence washed over Patricia, the torrent of thoughts in her mind serving to silence the group’s pleading and denial. When she thought of putting herself in their shoes, she knew she couldn’t do it. There was no way she would leave Teagan and Daisy to give her life for the rest of the world. She knew just how selfish that was, but she didn’t allow self-pity to derail her thoughts. If anyone could do this, it was Metzli, that’s just the kind of person they were. They’d give their all until the last drop of blood was spilled.

Rather than a sob or a cry escaping Patricia’s lips as a tear streamed down her cheek, a grim chuckle instead left in its place. The feeling of disbelief fused with the sudden realization that it had to be Metzli, into a feeling of amusement at the irony of the situation. What else was there to do when all others wept for their closest friend? “Always gotta be the damn hero, don’t you Metz? If you’re going to go out, might as well go out swinging.” The world in front of them was emptying out, crumbling into nothing before their very eyes, but with a single realization Metzli proved that they were willing to charge forth into the void with a final defiant gesture. “Make it count, because there won’t be a single person who survives this that won’t miss you every damn day.”

There wasn’t much else to say. The group of people surrounding Teagan had every reason to refute what Metzli was saying, but even with how horrible the answer was, it was the answer. However, she did find herself wanting to fight back with the rest. If not to preserve a kind heart’s beat, then for her mother figure, Macleod. The love of her life was giving everything away, tossing out any possibility of the happy ever after she felt her mother deserved. But then, the love of her life spoke up, speaking in a way that would most certainly get her chastised. 

“C-cariad.” Teagan pulled Patricia closer to retreat to the back of the group, her voice still cracking from her time in The Ring’s basement. Her neck still bore the evidence of the horrible conditions she was under, and she was still weak from her time away from Dark Score, but there was an undeniable strength in the way she managed to get Patricia where she wanted. “They might h-hit you. Wanted to protect you.” She whispered hoarsely, confident that Patricia would still hear. “May be best to k-keep quiet for now. People in mourning. Denial.” Teagan looked at Cass then, the biggest and most frequent offender of denial. She did it best, and Teagan has experienced first-hand more than once. 

Everyone spoke together, refusing to accept the solution in front of them, just as expected. Metzli’s face contorted into a mixture of grief, frustration, and fear, the knowledge that they were wasting time heavy on their entire body. “Guys—please, can we just—” Then, Patricia, of all people, was tearfully chuckling, and they couldn’t help but scoff in kind. She not only understood what they were saying, but accepted it. There was no way they’d let Emilio give his life, and there was no changing Metzli’s mind, and she knew it. 

“No, guys. No.” Metzli propped Eilidh an arm-length away by her shoulder, hoping to help her see that their solution was the correct one. She continued to argue, to kiss them and beg them to let someone else do it, but Metzli simply shook their head. It wasn’t easy on their part, by any means, though it may have looked like it was. They had coordinated so many plans, were looking forward to a life full of love and adventure, and now…there was no chance. All of that was being given up so that everyone they loved could have that instead. It would hurt, it would ache indefinitely. But to Metzli, that fate was far better than having nothing at all.

Looking to the rest of the group, Metzli could see a tsunami of emotions crashing together, further increasing the difficulty of their decision. Eventually though, they found their resolve. “Emilio, you’re not giving your life. You haven’t lived long enough to make that decision so easily. Teddy and Cass, I know this is hard. I know. But who else will it be? Who else has had their chance at life? I’ve lived over a hundred and fifty years. I promised, I know. And you know what?” They chuckled in disbelief, shaking their head. “I did. I worked so hard to get out of here with you all. I kept my promise, and now I’ve gotta make good on my promise to love and protect you.”

“Metzli…” Emilio’s voice was low, quiet. He wanted to argue that they had more to live for than he did, but Teddy’s grip on his hand reminded him that that wasn’t quite true. And there was something unspeakably cruel about that, wasn’t there? The last time Emilio had run from a town as it came to an end, he’d had nothing left to live for and nothing to chase him down and put him out of his misery. This time, he had so much left to do and the world demanding someone stay to pay the toll anyway. Two years ago, this decision would have been a simple one. But now? Now, it was harder than it should have been. Now, it wasn’t him who was making it. 

He glanced over at Teddy, the stricken look on his face. He was going to lose something here today, no matter who made this sacrifice. And Emilio hated that. He hated that these were the kinds of choices they were given, hated that this was their lot in life, hated that Metzli was volunteering for this now, just when they were starting to make peace with each other, hated that he knew he was going to let them. 

“It doesn’t have to be you,” he said, still low. It was a pointless gesture, both the quiet tones when just about everyone in their group had some kind of enhanced hearing and the offer that Metzli had already turned down once. “Already made it longer than anybody thought I would, you know. Wouldn’t hate it if it ended like this.” They were going to say no — he knew they were going to say no — but Emilio still felt the need to offer. They deserved that much. He got that now.

Frustration built up in Cass throughout it all, through Teddy’s voice echoing her pleas and Patricia’s teary chuckle and Teagan’s sidelong glance in her direction. They were supposed to all get out. They were supposed to all be safe. She was supposed to meet up with Sloane after, they were supposed to all get away together, and it wasn’t —

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. They weren’t supposed to be faced with more impossible choices when the decisions had all already been made. Cass had already lost friends to this crumbling mess of a town, had already lost people before the chaos started thanks in part to the strange ‘warning signs’ the town threw out as it started the too-slow, too-fast process of dying. She wasn’t supposed to lose anyone else. She wasn’t supposed to have to leave her family behind. 

Teddy’s boyfriend made an offer, and it took everything Cass had not to beg Metzli to take it, not to say outright that it would be better if they left someone she didn’t care about behind than it would be to leave someone she loved. It was a selfish thing to feel, but she felt it so entirely that it threatened to swallow her whole before the crumbling town could. Growing up the way she had, first in the system and then on the streets, made it so easy to accept that terrible things were bound to happen and to prefer it when they were happening to people you didn’t know. It also made it harder, somehow, when they were happening to the people you loved. There were so few of them. Cass couldn’t afford to lose any more.

“I don’t want that,” she insisted, her voice breaking. “We don’t want that.” She gestured between herself and Teddy, speaking for him without permission because she knew she was right. For all that she’d resented him, she knew that Teddy grew up much in the same way she had. She knew that, like her, he would prefer it if strangers took the fall in place of friends. Teddy didn’t want anyone to die for him any more than Cass did. She was confident in that, at least. “Let it be someone else, Metzli, please. I — I don’t want to lose you. I can’t. You’re my family, the first family I ever had. Please don’t leave me here alone.” 

— 

There wasn't anything Teddy could say that Cass hadn't already. Though her glances towards Emilio hadn't gone completely unnoticed. It wasn't her fault she never had a chance to really meet him and get to know the side Ted had come to love. But that didn't really stop the sting and feeling of betrayal at the silent suggestion. His heart was pounding. If he had not spent the majority of the last few months learning how to control his shifting, he might have sported a much more toothsome look by now. Instead he looked much like a dog someone left out in the rain. Tearing his eyes between the one who had volunteered themselves, and the man who tried to take their place. Neither would be acceptable. How could they be? Teddy's life had been empty, so fucking empty until these beautiful lights filled it with meaning and worth. He gripped even tighter on Emilio's hand. Maybe even painfully, but not on an intentional scale. He'd probably have done the same to Metzli if he already had a hold on them. 

"You– you can't leave us." He repeated numbly, barely audible. "I said I'd go wherever you go, appa. You promised we'd be together." In lieu of a well thought out argument, Teddy began to mumble like a lost toddler. Felt the burn in his legs as he willed them to move but they stayed firmly in place. His stomach churned, and his chest rose and shuddered with his ragged breath. "Why-why-why would it even have to be you? Huh?" He stammered, a rising defensive rage bubbling up out of the demon. "Haven't you given enough? You deserve to make it out with all of us just as much as anyone else, more even. You fought for this appa, you have to come with us s-someone else out there has to-" The tears his wide stare had been holding back finally burst through the dam. Catching his voice behind a curtain of hyperventilation and choked sobs as the realization that there was no way that he was leaving here with his heart intact. 

—

Patricia couldn’t think of anything witty or insightful to add to this devastating moment of collective revelation. All she could do was wrap an arm around Teagan, and watch as each member of this group reacted in their own ways. Even if all of them were normal people, intertwined only by common interests and memories, this would still hurt like shit, but they weren’t just that. Everybody here had been affected by Metzli for the better, time and time again. How could anybody ever accept that a world of people they’d never met, of people that would mostly never know them or care about them, should be more important than the one person who was good without expectation? It was a herculean task, and it couldn’t be resolved in the mere minutes that remained before the world ended.

Only an immensely small percentage of the world would know just what had been sacrificed for them, and even less would get to know who was lost for them. It was a devastatingly lonely fate that Patricia wouldn’t wish on nobody, not even those that had taken Teagan from her. There was no point consoling others right now, because not even Patricia could keep it together to do so. There was no staying strong, not anymore. Thoughts were quickly becoming harder to grasp as the knot in her throat felt larger and larger. Patricia leaned over and buried her face in Teagan’s shoulder, quickly dampening the fabric of her shirt with a stream of the tears just as inevitable as the shudder of the earth beneath them.

Teagan’s whole demeanor softened at the emotional outpour around her. She found herself wanting to fight back too, but there was a look in the vampire’s eye that told her everything she needed to know. They were a parent, a lover, a friend, a sibling, and everything in between. Soon, they would be none of those things except in the fleeting memories of everyone surrounding them. Macleod would mourn for the rest of her days, and as Teagan looked back over to her whilst she held Patricia, she held back a sob. The people she loved were always so strong and never let their tears see the light of day. Each a cache of emotions they held tightly shut. Holding tempers that could be akin to a blazing fire. But there they were, extinguishing the flames themselves so as to not leave anything unsaid.

“Shh…” She cooed, bringing Patricia closer. What else could she say? Teagan led the pair to the ground to get a better hold, a better look at the damage Metzli’s decision was making. It was then that she realized just how good of a friend they were to Patricia. She should’ve known. They had played a willing part in her rescue mission, after all. Teagan then cried, too. She held them at arm’s length so she didn’t have to feel the love they so obviously wanted to give, and did anyway, even without her permission. “I’m sorry,” Teagan whispered, looking at Metzli. “I should’ve gotten to know you better.” They shook their head at her, proclaiming her words nonsense and that they wouldn’t change a thing. Sometimes a quiet love is the one that echoes the farthest. Nodding in understanding, Teagan placed a kiss on Patricia’s head and intertwined her fingers with Macleod’s, extending her strength and love to her.

“Come on man,” Metzli shook their head and faced the wreckage that White Crest was becoming. “You’re not getting out of living that easy. You’ve got shit to do. Besides…” Shrugging, they turned to Cass and Teddy for a moment, going back to Emilio to finish their thought. “You need to make sure everyone stays together and gets out. No one else knows how important that is more than you.” 

Metzli again turned around, this time facing Eilidh. If it wasn’t ghosts or ghouls, it was the intimate celebrations that brought back the dead, or better yet, kept them alive. Metzli had done just that only weeks ago when they put together a Día de Muertos party. Eilidh did that daily when she saw a butterfly and said hello to her first love. They wondered, for a moment, if she’d do the same when she found a blooming datura. At the thought, Metzli stared into her eyes with a softness that could compete with silk. Their hand grazed the necklace they’d given her and they swallowed a sob so they could replace it with a longing kiss. “I’m so glad you’re the first and only woman I’ve ever loved.” They muttered against her lips, stepping away slowly while holding her hand with a pressure she could feel. Raising it just as slow and biting hard enough to draw her black, clotted blood. She scoffed out a teary chuckle and roughly pulled them to her for another firm kiss. A proper one that ended with their blood in her mouth. “I love you,” They said in unison, in each other’s languages they learned for one another.

Finally, they faced Teddy and Cass, only cupping her cheek. They would’ve cupped Teddy’s too, but sadly, one needs two hands for that, and he was on their left. “Listen guys, I’m not leaving you because I want to. I made a promise to protect you. To love you so unconditionally that I would quite literally put my life on the line for you. Of course you don’t want this, hell, I don’t want this, but it’s the solution we’ve got.” Metzli tightened their eyes shut in a vain attempt to halt the tears that fell anyway, and slowly, they brought Cass and Teddy into the tightest hug. Tight enough to imprint their bodies onto their skin so they’d stay there forever and they never had to forget how beautiful it felt to have love wrap around them. “It’s not about deserve. That went out the window a long time ago. It’s just about love. That’s all this is, and if you remember that, I’ll never leave you. You’ll never be alone. Look around you.” They parted from the hug and gestured to the people that had banded together to leave. “We made a family, Cass. We started it. And then it got bigger.” Teary eyes met with Teddy’s. “So no, you two will never be alone, and you know, you know, I will find a way back. This isn’t the end. It never is in our world. I chose you from the get-go. I chose you when I said we should leave. I’m choosing you now.” With a pause, they let go and stood tall, looking at their car. “We don’t have a lot of time and I need to get something done. Can I do that?”

Teddy’s grip on his hand was almost painful, tight and certain in a way that told the slayer just what the florist thought of his offer. It wouldn’t have mattered, anyway. Metzli had that bound and determined look in their eye, the one that told Emilio that their mind was made up. For all the ups and downs that their strange almost-friendship had been through throughout his year in White Crest, he could certainly recognize that that look meant there was no arguing with the vampire. 

Glancing to the rest of the group — to Teddy’s stricken expression, to the heartbroken kid, to Teagan and Patricia on the ground and Macleod murmuring in the language she and Metzli shared — Emilio nodded. “I’ll make sure they get out,” he promised. Metzli was right; out of all of them, Emilio knew best just how important that was. He could save people, this time. It didn’t make up for the ones he couldn’t save before, didn’t undo the shit he’d done, but it was something. It had to be something.

Cass, of course, was far less understanding. She wanted an easier answer, wanted a better ending to this story. She wanted the kind of thing that only ever existed in fairytales, where the people she loved were fine and everyone lived happily ever after. Never mind that that was already out the window now, never mind that people had already died for this town, never mind that it would all be for nothing if one more didn’t join them. All Cass wanted was to get out of here with what was left of her family intact. That was all. 

And this world couldn’t even give her that. 

Her tears soaked Metzli’s hand as it rested against her face, and she shook her head adamantly. “It isn’t fair.” After everything they’d been through, after all the work they’d put into regaining their soul, how was this how it ended? How was it okay that they were going to die when they’d only just started to live? The two of them had just celebrated Metzli’s birthday, the first time they’d been allowed to do so. It was supposed to be the first of many, was supposed to be the beginning of a new tradition. They were supposed to have decades of movie nights and stupid dinner parties, were supposed to be there for each other until Cass was old and gray. Cass was supposed to have her sibling with her until the day she died. 

They should have had sixty more years of laughter and joy and peace. It wasn’t supposed to end in a crumbling town, with tears and dust. It wasn’t supposed to end abruptly and without warning, the way every other attempt at a family Cass had ever made had. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

But there was no other way it could be, either. 

Metzli wouldn’t let anyone else make this decision in their place, not even if they were volunteering for it. No matter what they thought of themself, they were good. Too good to let anyone else do this in their stead, no matter how much Cass might long for it. Maybe it was always going to end like this after all. Maybe, since the beginning, Metzli doing something this selfless and this wonderful and this heartbreaking was inevitable. Maybe good people didn’t get happy endings. 

She whimpered as Metzli spoke, a thousand arguments building up in the back of her mind. But you won’t, she wanted to scream. You won’t be here. You won’t be here, and the town is gone and Levi is going to go back into the sea and Teddy probably doesn’t like me much, anyway, and I can’t go back to being alone when I’ve only just started to be with other people. This can’t be all the time we get. This can’t be all the family I get to have. It was stupid and selfish and childish, but she wanted to stomp her feet and throw her hands up and scream at the sky, wanted to yell at a god she wasn’t even sure she’d ever believed in for making this the hand they were dealt. It isn’t fair. I need you here. I still need you here. 

But what good would it do? What good would throwing a fit at the end of the world do for any of them? It would only make Metzli feel worse than they already did and, god, Cass didn’t want their last impression of her to be that. She didn’t want Metzli to feel anything negative towards her at the end, didn’t want to be the inconvenience every one of her short-lived foster families had accused her of being. There was so much here that she didn’t want, and so little time to correct any of it. 

There was still too much to say, still too much to do. And the world was still ending. And not one bit of it was fair.

She reached out, clutching Metzli’s hand desperately. “I’m not — I’m not ready,” she said, voice caught somewhere between a whisper and a sob. “I’m not ready to be without you. We just started. This is supposed to be the beginning.” 

The messy mix of memories that had firmly rooted Teddy in place began to settle into the corners of his mind, letting him slip into an unkind and uncomfortable sense of morbid pain. He had stopped flicking his gaze between Metzli and Emilio at some point, maybe when the older of the two guided the younger to keep everyone else safe. A firm decision that didn't seem up for debate. No, instead his eyes fell on Cass. Watched every bit of the churning ocean of emotions washed over her features in a way his inability to process the very same ones wouldn't allow. He watched until they were both pulled into a hug so tight his view was obscured, and he could only feel the flushed heat radiating off her skin. Hear her heartbeat banging against its cage in rhythm with his own. 

Her words compelled him to do something he never really would have thought of, if not for how Metzli brought them closer together. Funnily enough, their connection to Levi and Marina made them something of siblings, but it might just have been the old vampire who made them family. Teddy gently, far more gently than he had been (and still was) gripping tight to his boyfriend, slipped his hand into Cass's. A wordless promise that if she wanted it, if she allowed it…he would be there for her. They both knew so intimately what it was like to be alone. Maybe it was time they tried to get rid of that feeling together. 

Teddy wasn't ready to lose Metzli either. The annoying gnawing voice that always grated at the back of his head reminded him that they hadn't even really known each other that long. That the strange sensation of knowing the vampire all his life had come from a stint of magic that temporarily altered his memories and gave him and Metzli a few days where he got to be a real kid. Their kid. And now… now he was going to be an orphan again. It didn't really matter how old you were, losing that part of yourself… especially after having fought so long to feel it. To really belong to something or someone who chose you because of who you are, not something you did or something you could give. He wasn't ready to lose it all again. It didn't matter what he had with Levi. A thousand years and that would never be this. 

A loving embrace, before a calculated release. 

A selfless sacrifice that would leave a living scar on everyone here. Teddy wept. Silent and steady. Hot blistery tears streaking down his cheeks with no sign of stopping. His breath stifled any words, as if he could think of any. What the hell was he supposed to say? How do you tell someone that they've become such an ingrained part of you that to pull them away means the very fabric of you begins to unravel? How do you keep standing when the ground below gets ripped away? The closest he could think of was a sobbed, repeated phrase. Over and over. 

"Apa, please. I love you."

—

All Teagan could do was watch with eyes so full of mist that everyone was a blur. Looking down at Patricia, it was all she could do to keep herself from falling apart when there were parties clearly more affected than she was. For the time being, she kept quiet, wiping her eyes to see Metzli hurry around the vehicles as the world crumbled around them. Time was ticking, and Teagan could’ve sworn she could hear the clock bell roar, confirming Metzli’s suspicions. 

Why did it have to end this way? Life always had a cost, and it looked like there was nothing left to do but pay, and Metzli was holding the lump sum. One so large that it was lodged in their throat while they said their goodbyes, even taking the time to speak to those they barely knew. Teagan appreciated that, looking at Macleod with eyes so full of sorrow, they were dripping down her cheeks. Everything was breaking, and the nix didn’t wield the power to make everything come to a full stop when the collection of all their fears was titanic. But that strange, one-armed vampire did. And they knew it. 

“I’m not ready either,” Metzli whispered with a tired smile, pulling Cass into one more tight hug after spending a few minutes rushing to transfer items to the other vehicles and writing letters as fast as they could. They figured their belongings would be better off kept by those they loved than lost beneath the rubble of a lost town, and their family would pass on their goodbyes to everyone they knew. Of that they were sure of. 

“And Teddy,” Metzli locked eyes with the one and only son they ever had, wrapping their arms around him and giving into their heart that they opened up so anxiously to the world. “ I love you. I love all of you.” That time, they looked around them, taking the time to share a glance at everyone, disregarding the way their backwards world could they offer their dying breaths and it be called beautiful. 

Emilio, the man that hated them without a second thought became one of their greatest allies, and even better friend. 

Patricia, a woman who so lost in her failure that she nearly lost sight of what she could have. Now she had everything, and the best was yet to come. 

Teagan, a girl who kept everyone at arm’s length, was now using those very limbs to encase people with love. 

Cass, once a stranger that prevented them from being their own worst enemy. She shared Metzli’s  fear of loneliness and abandonment so intimately that she became tightly entangled in their heart and made a family. Their first. 

Teddy, a boy who was never chosen despite holding the biggest heart made of gold that persevered through loneliness, and now, finally, he knew what unconditional love from a parent was. 

Eilidh, the first and only woman Metzli ever loved. With her heart as full and lively as every garden she tended, she gave the vampire everything, even if it was to her detriment. She found their heart, but she’d always be their soul. Their death so early on in their relationship was not the ending they wanted, but they handed her the seeds for the future and were giving her a watering can to nurture something into bloom. Each petal would be marked with their love and she would be reminded every day that they would never leave her. With their sacrifice, with their love, they were painting the future in the background with only 30 minutes left. 

And yes, they would all grieve. But Metzli found comfort that their deep grief meant that they loved fully. They all opened their hearts despite the inevitable. Metzli had many regrets, but never would they regret the love they gave, or anything they did in the name of it. 

With one final round of hugs and a lingering kiss for Eilidh, the ending was cemented. Each rumble and shake grew in strength, leading a flurry of tremors to course through Metzli as their legs settled in the driver side. “Please, take care of each other. Please.” They faced everyone, rolling the window down and shutting the door with their face tear-stained and red. “And Cass?” They chuckled dryly, a glimmer of humor pushing through with a twitchy, quick nod. “Tell amá I love her, okay? And check Macleod’s glove compartment in her trailer. There’s a little present there for you.”

It wouldn’t have mattered if the quakes hadn’t been trembling through the ground, wouldn’t have mattered if the sun was high in the sky or the clouds were all far away. In that moment, no matter what the world actually looked like, all Cass would have seen was darkness. The scene blurred around her as her eyes filled up with tears, and she shook her head again, adamant. It couldn’t end like this. After everything, it couldn’t end like this. They’d made it out. They’d gotten all the way to the edge of town, had plans to go farther, had a future all mapped out and ready to go. They were all supposed to survive this. They were all supposed to be okay.

But the world, Cass had learned long ago, never gave much of a shit about the way things were supposed to be. It didn’t matter that Metzli was going off to stop the apocalypse, didn’t matter that a dozen other people were giving their lives for the same reason. The world was ending anyway. It already had.

Cass clung to Metzli stubbornly as they hugged her, and she wanted to drag the vampire with them, wanted to say fuck the world, let it end, I don’t care even if it wasn’t true. She was too kindhearted to doom the world, even if hers would be so much emptier without Metzli in it. Even if it felt like the apocalypse might as well have been successful in this moment.

She sniffled as Metzli spoke again, nodding her head even as her throat burned, even as her chest ached. Whatever present Metzli had left for her would be far too small to fill the void carved out in her life, but at least she’d have something to hold onto. At least she’d have something tangible to remind her that once, for a moment, someone had loved her like this. 

Too soon, the goodbyes were over. There wasn’t enough time in the world to say everything they wanted to say, and there certainly wasn’t enough time now. Metzli had to go, and so did the rest of them. Someone tugged her back towards the cars, Teddy’s boyfriend practically dragging him along, and everything hurt long after Cass was settled into the seat with a seatbelt holding her in place, long after Metzli disappeared in the rear view mirror. 

Emilio took a long drag from his cigarette, trudging along through the woods and keeping an ear open for nearby danger. He didn’t expect to find any. The paranoia that lived within the hunter’s chest tended to be reserved for him and him alone, uncaring of Regan’s problems or her claims that the world was out to get her. Of course, every time he’d assumed in the past that no one gave a shit about bones as much as Regan did, someone had come along to prove him wrong. Maybe eventually, Emilio would learn his lesson there.

Maybe it would be today.

He barely heard it. They were moving quietly, but not quietly enough to avoid being heard by the sharp ears of a hunter, especially not one as constantly vigilant and on edge as Emilio was. The snapping of a branch, so quiet it was barely a noise at all. Emilio stiffened, tensing as his eyes quickly swept the surrounding area to see — there. 

“Might as well come out,” he said dryly, voice carrying in the otherwise quiet forest. “You’re not as sneaky as you think you are.”

–

Jude carefully crept closer to the hut Regan was supposedly in. On their back, a large backpack full of bones weighed down on them, on their arms, dozens of runes inscribed in blood, needing just a last line to finish any number of pre-prepared spells. Both of healing and to cause wounds. They just needed to draw the attention of the shadow coyotes and bait them while the exorcist did her work. In and out, kept safe by the others, and if they failed, well… Jude had a backup sacrifice ready to go. 

As they spotted a figure roaming, they looked back to Kaden in surprise. There wasn’t supposed to be anyone else here. It was the hunter that had felt the waves of death coming off Jude, Emilio. Hopefully… it was just a coincidence, and they were just out hunting… well, the kind of beings Jude had brought with them. This could be problematic. 

Emilio turned to look at their direction, and spoke into the woods. It wouldn’t be long before he’d be able to sense an undead presence nearby, so Jude figured they’d give him something to sense, just to drag him away if his presence was a coincidence, and to keep him occupied if it wasn’t. They wordlessly and subtly tugged at the marionette strings of their magic, and held their breath, looking to Kaden for their cue. 

Twenty feet away, a half rotten porcupine ambled through the forest, not being quiet as it snuffled for some food it didn’t need. 

–

Metzli’s hand twitched on the branch of the tree they were in, thinking that Emilio had caught them. They smiled then, seeing the stranger act on such short notice. A distraction, red-herring that they were sure wouldn’t deter the slayer. They quirked a brow in thought. It was very possible he could be swindled into thinking he didn’t survey his area correctly. After all, they’d manage to follow him even with his innate ability to sense them. Taking a deep breath, they could smell the aroma of death surrounding them, both rotten and fresh. More like dirt than putrefied flesh. Smelled like home. But they couldn’t get lost in the musings of their safe dwelling. Danger was near, and they needed to get ahead of it. 

Propelling themselves from the tree, their silhouette broke through the treeline, the moon hitting them with its glow. “You’re really lacking in the surveillance skills lately. Can’t believe you caught a dead porcupine and not me.” They landed in a crouch, with the biggest shit-eating grin they could muster. “Got anything I can break?”

–

This would work. Kaden was sure of it. It had to work. Lil would find Regan, do the exorcism, no one would explode from a banshee scream, it’d be fine. 

He had a feelling, though, that the heaping pile of carcasses that he could smell from a good half a mile away wasn’t fine. “This way,” he told Jude as they walked towards the death mound. He wasn’t sure what the deal was with this coyote spirit or what exactly it was trying to get Regan to do, but he was pretty sure if something bad was going to happen outside of the cabin that might mess shit up, it was going to happen there. He still wasn’t entirely comfortable carrying his weapons again, but he didn’t have much of a choice. He was even less comfortable working with the necromancer who caused all this shit in the first place but it didn’t seem like he had much of a choice. “Should be–”

His words caught on his lips as he shut them tight to listen. Footsteps, small crunching leaves. He held his arm out to stop Jude from moving any farther. They stood still, but it was clear whoever or whatever was out there wasn’t walking away, but towards them. When he caught sight of who it was, he rolled his eyes. Should have known he’d be nearby. Kaden really didn’t want to hurt the guy too bad, but he was going to have no qualms kicking his ass a little after the crap he dragged Ari into. He’d buy him a drink later to make up for it, it’d be fine.

Kaden’s focus shot to the clearly once dead porcupine that was resurrected and shuffling not too far away, The ranger shot a glance at Jude and thought about punching them square in the jaw. Not yet. He needed them. That’d also have to be for later. “You. Make sure there are no other cursed bones over there,” he whispered to Jude. 

He took a deep breath and stepped out from their place behind the trees, holding his hands up in surrender. “Wasn’t trying to be sneaky, connard,” he said, casually as he could manage. “What are you doing out here, any–” Just as Kaden was about to take a step forward, a figure fell from the trees above. “What the–” That was the vampire, right? Metzli. And they seemed familiar with the slayer. His brow knit as he cautiously approached, slowly reaching for the knife at his side, completely unsure what he was getting into. 

–

The snapping twigs weren’t the only thing that clued him in to another presence; there was that twitch at the back of his neck, that unmistakable sense that told him something undead was near. The problem, of course, was the giant fucking mound of dead shit Regan had set up nearby. The first time he met her, she’d been pretty fucking set on the idea of nabbing the vampire he was fighting and taking it to her ‘death mound.’ For all Emilio knew, there were undead things buried beneath the bodies she’d collected, throwing his senses all over the place. He might have told her as much if he thought there was any possibility she’d listen.

Another branch snapped and, acting on instinct, the slayer tossed a knife in its direction, turning his head to follow the blade. It landed in front of… a fucking reanimated porcupine. Christ. What the fuck was wrong with people? He pulled another knife, ready to put the thing out of its misery, when a familiar voice sounded off from behind him. Immediately, Emilio tensed. 

The Frenchman showing up was exactly the kind of shit Regan was paranoid about. Emilio hated this town, a little, for continuing to prove her delusions about everyone being after her damn bones correct. He turned to snap something at Kaden, to start in a pointless argument where he’d tell the guy to leave, he’d refuse, and they’d punch each other until something changed, but before he could get a word out, someone else dropped down. 

This, Emilio thought, really wasn’t his night.

With Kaden on one side of him and Metzli on the other, Emilio was beginning to feel boxed in. And, like a wild animal, he didn’t take to the feeling well. He pulled out a knife in one hand, a stake in the other, and glanced wildly between the two. The distraction, though partially unintentional, was a good one; with two people to focus on, Emilio was unaware of the third presence nearby, the necromancer who was playing with his senses in the same way Metzli and that damn porcupine were.

“What, you two teaming up now?” He knew, even as he asked it, that the answer to the question was no. Kaden seemed surprised by Metzli’s presence, and Emilio doubted the ranger was a decent actor. “Leave. Both of you.” His eyes darted to Kaden. “Regan’s not here to keep me from kicking your ass this time, asshole.”

—

Jude met Kaden’s gaze without flinching, just a tiny shrug as if to ask what he expected. 

Unnoticed so far, Jude crept past the encounter, staying low and sticking as close to trees as they could. As far as they’d known, it was just Kaden and them on this, but another figure approached the group, and the tense lines in everyone’s shoulders made it clear this was no happy reunion. Jude reached the edge of the mound of corpses, nose barely wrinkling as they were almost unphased by the stench of death, and slowly slinked behind it until they were entirely hidden from the view of the trio. They smiled as they noticed a moose carcass, recently dragged onto the mound. Regan had found it on her walk after all. No cursed bones to speak of, though. 

The resurrected porcupine could have been a distraction for Emilio, but as it was no longer needed in that regard, Jude let it continue to bumble through the forest near the mound, neither interfering with the scene nor returning to them, as if it was just a visitor that was as drawn to the pile of death as much as the maggots and worms. They could barely hear the three voices as they pulled bundles of spell components out of their bag, but no one was coming closer, at once a blessing and a gift. They hurriedly arranged threads of string into runes and candles into pentacles, rats tails tied like ribbons around bone. glancing to and from their watch as the seconds ticked past. Ten seconds, fifteen. It was only through prior hours of preparation that the spell came together as quickly as it did. 

Technically, they’d agreed that damaging the mound would be enough to draw out the coyotes. If this had gone without a hitch, they might have stuck with that, them and Kaden punching a hole through some skulls. But there were two unknowns involved now, and Kaden was occupied with them. Jude could use another ally on their side, and they were out of time. The exorcism was due to start.

This cheap semblance of animation didn’t require any real sacrifice more than what had already been made in preparing the bundled spell components. All Jude had to do was thrust their hand in the decaying viscera of a nearby fox and drain the life out of a hundred freshly hatched maggots. White light crackled through the mound of decay. 

Bones of the moose began to assemble like grizzle covered parts of a lego toy. 

–

Just as quickly as they showed up, so too did other parties. Metzli didn’t like surprises, the sudden shift prompting them to unlatch their holster and pull their knife out in one swift motion. Kaden was with the stranger they’d already spotted and of course the two hunters knew one another. Murderers always ran in the same circles. Was why Metzli knew both of them in the first place. “Like hell I’d team up with this shitty hunter. He couldn’t kick my ass on a good day and I’d kick his now if I could.” Pulling the knife from Kaden, they steadied it closer to their body. Just in case. “But, I’m playing nice since he’s buddy-buddy with Macleod.” They blew a raspberry, and waved Kaden away in hopes of giving everyone some distance.

“I take it you two have tangoed with each other.” Eyes shifted between the two in amusement, and they bit their lip to stifle a laugh. If there was more time, Metzli would’ve taken the opportunity to pick on both, but they didn’t. They managed to break two bones, and while the vampire didn’t know much about anatomy, they knew there were definitely more than two bones in a skeleton. “Well, that’s the least of my problems. Emilio, whatever you’re protecting, I need it. And I won’t take no for an answer.” Rolling their eyes with a smile, they landed and stopped on Jude. Every note off of them reeked of magic—of a type of necromancy. Something they had just experienced themself. Only, this mocked death, and even the lives of creatures who once held breath in their lungs. It was like they were spitting on them. 

Sucking their teeth, Metzli dropped their knife to their side and backed away from everyone. Whatever was happening, they needed space to ensure they could assess properly. Especially with their impulsive need to annoy. Not even their soul could change that. “Ay! Tú,” Pointing a finger at Jude, they peered around Kaden and narrowed their eyes suspiciously. “Why are you messing with that pobre moose?”

–

“Putain, teaming up?” Kaden didn’t have a chance to be insulted before there was a knife held up towards him. From the vampire. Who was sporting one less arm than the last time he’d seen them. The ranger’s head tilted as he paused instead of slapping the weapon out of his face. They did have both arms the last time he saw them, right? It had been dark and all, but he was pretty damn sure. “Hey!” he shouted back as Metzli insulted him, pulling his own knife out, ready to go. “I could take you in a second, connard. I was just being gracious that time in the alley, got i– Wait?” His hand dropped slightly at the familiar name. “You know Macleod?” Huh. Guess this was a small town. Weirder yet was the thought that Macleod actually referred to him in any manner that was favorable. Kaden liked her well enough but he just assumed she didn’t care that much for him overall. Huh. Guess that was nice. 

The nice feelings didn’t last very long. “Tangoed?” Kaden huffed out a laugh. “If you mean he tried to break into my fucking apartment for a goddamn bone, sure, yeah, we tangoed.” Kaden wasn’t sure who he was looking forward to decking first. Did the plan involve him punching anyone? No, not necessarily. He still planned to all the same. “Wait, you think I need her help? Putain de merde, if anyone needed her help it was you.” Yeah, he was definitely throwing punches before this was over. “I’m not leaving. You lea–”

His focus shifted as his head turned back towards Jude and the very dead moose that was somehow back on all fours. Kaden’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the necromancer. They were on the same side. They were on the same side. If he kept saying that, maybe he’d remember that. He didn’t know what the fuck he was doing with that moose yet, but he knew he didn’t want to be on the other side of those antlers. He had to work with the necromancer who tortured animals. He had to work with them. For now. 

A scream pierced through the clearing, all the way from the cabin. Kaden winced, the sound pounding in his ears. They were a half a mile off from the cabin. The scream had to be loud. Regan was in trouble. A pit sunk in his stomach, instincts telling him to turn and run towards the sound. No, no. Regan wasn’t in trouble. The coyote was. He hoped. He had to help here. He had to make sure Emilio didn’t interrupt. And with the shock of the scream, he figured he had a second. A second that he took to grab Emilio closer and slam his fist into the slayer’s jaw. Now who needed Regan’s help?

–

If the look on Metzli’s face and the knife in their hand were anything to go by, they weren’t working with Kaden. Unfortunately, that didn’t exactly make them an ally, either. Emilio knew the vampire was here with one goal in mind, just as they had been at the cabin when they’d broken those damn bones and left him floundering. There was no version of this story that ended well for him; there never was. Kaden and Metzli might not have come here together, but it was clear they were on the same side nonetheless. And that side was the one that was going to fuck up Emilio’s life over some goddamn bones. Christ. He should’ve left this town when he had the fucking chance. 

“If you weren’t a stubborn fucking ass too obsessed with his ex to let go of a couple of worthless goddamn bones, I wouldn’t have had to break in,” he protested, as if Kaden was somehow wrong to be upset here. Emilio knew he didn’t have much of a leg to stand on in this particular argument, but he was stubborn and angry and stupid enough to argue anyway. He usually was. “I can’t leave, you stupid — “

He broke off as Metzli shouted at something behind them, whirled around to look with the hand holding the knife at the ready. His attention was split three ways now, and in spite of the magic causing its own kind of a distraction, he didn’t have to squint to recognize the third figure in the circle. “Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” Who else was going to come out of the woodwork here? The guy he’d punched at the bar? The aquarium security guard? Levi? It was like a fucking class reunion of Emilio’s recent physical altercations. 

And then — a scream from the cabin. Emilio whirled around, going against instinct and turning his back on all three of the ‘enemies’ in his vicinity to look back in the direction of the cabin instead. Regan was screaming, which meant Regan was in trouble. Which meant, as per the fucking promise he was tied up in, Emilio needed to go. The crowd here was a distraction; he should have realized it sooner.

He only managed half a step towards the cabin before Kaden yanked him close enough to throw a punch, landing his knuckles against the side of Emilio’s face with enough force to cause the slayer to stumble backwards. That faint but still present self preservation instinct told him to take off towards the cabin, but as usual, the anger that burned in his chest was a little hotter. He took a swing at Kaden, no thought going into the action at all. The knife had been dropped, though it was hard to say if it was an intentional move to keep him from accidentally stabbing a guy he didn’t actually want to stab or a happy accident. He wasn’t really considering it. The only thing on his mind was how much he wanted to hit Kaden in the fucking face. As soon as the ranger had a bruise on his jaw to match the one on Emilio’s, he could take off towards the cabin and figure out how to stop whatever was going on with Regan. His priorities were just fine, as always.

—

Jude swayed from the exertion of the spell, and looked over at the group as one of them addressed Jude in Spanish. They cocked an eyebrow. “Making friends!” They replied, trying to meet Kaden’s eyes. Every second that this spell kept the moose animated, the coyotes were more and more of a risk. And with as many coyotes due as they suspected were coming, they needed Kaden here. Their moose was a glass cannon, and the porcupine wasn’t what anyone would call agile. They met his narrowed eyes, and pursed their lips. He’d have to get over it. Once the medical examiner was free, they’d meet whatever youthful judgement they were owed then. 

Before the coyotes came the scream. Loud and piercing, as if it was someone right beside them. Jude spun on the mound, but there was no one there. Another ghost, maybe? In their pocket was a pouch of salt that they wielded in front of them, swinging it firmly around, but any ghost made no appearance. 

The scream also roused a response from the group, but unlike Jude, they seemed to recognise it immediately, a thought that made their stomach drop. They watched Emilio try to leave, Kaden take a swing at his face, and wondered where the third one stood. Hopefully, with them. 

As the fist fest began, the air temperature around Jude began to drop, and apparitions began to appear around them. One, after another after another. 

A dozen growling spectral coyotes, ears pinned to the back of their head, teeth bared.  A dozen pairs of eyes starving for revenge. 

“I’ve got company over here!”

—

Metzli stood between the men, dumbfounded by the amount of density the two created with what they saw as stupidity. Really they were just impatient, over the situation they had volunteered themself for to save their friend. Having a conscience really put a wrench in their self-preservation, but they didn’t mind too much. Not when their decision brought the opportunity to mess with two hunters. They at least had that going for them. “Of course I know Macleod. She’s my partner. And you,” They shifted their focus toward Emilio, but soon found that the attempt to speak was futile when they both went into attack mode. 

As the two idiots duked out whatever pissing contest they began, Metzli honed in on Jude instead. “Okay, so you’re making friends. I’m guessing if you’re with this idiot, you’re here to—” To fight something. But they didn’t have time to voice that or seek an answer. The piercing scream from the cabin made them nauseous almost instantly. Everything happened at once, coming together in a jarring crescendo. The likes of which matched the all too familiar scream. Regan was either killing someone or in pain. Both scenarios made Metzli’s stomach wrench in a way that made their body twitch. Enough to step forward to get to their friend, but again, there was another interruption. “Puta madre. Que chingados—okay. Okay.” The hairs on their neck bristled and they slipped their knife back into its holster, only to retrieve another. An iron one that Macleod had given them. 

“Don’t worry chiquitín,” Metzli remarked toward Jude, standing in front of them. “I can cover you so long as you cover me a little, chale?” They gritted their teeth and let out a growl, baring their own teeth in return to the coyotes. Each spectral beast’s body language screamed threats, but the vampire’s were just as loud, not caving into fear because there was none to feel. They just hoped Kaden and Emilio would get their shit together long enough to fight with them. 

–

The satisfaction of decking the slayer in the face didn’t last long. It was quickly replaced with the pain of knuckles slamming into his own jaw. Putain de merde. Kaden saw it coming, but he wasn’t pleased with it all the same. He reeled back at the punch and was about to throw himself back into the fight when he felt a wash of cold air rush past just before he heard Jude’s cry. 

Shit. The fucking coyotes were here. He had to help contain them, but he definitely had to make sure Emilio wasn’t going anywhere, either. Kaden stomped his heel down at the slayer’s foot and threw his elbow towards him, hoping to slow the slayer enough to give the ranger time to help his necromantic companion. If nothing else, he hoped it’d piss him off long enough to stick around.

Kaden turned to see Metzli ready to ward off the shadowy coyotes that had set their sights straight on Jude. Putain, that was one pissed off coyote. If it wasn’t possessing Regan, he had a feeling he would be on its side. 

But that wasn’t the present situation, so the ranger charged towards the spectres, reaching for the stupid pack of salt Lil convinced him to carry around after their last encounter. He tossed a few pieces at one or two of them. Pits formed in their wispy shapes as they turned towards Kaden, growling and teeth bared. He readied his knife as they sprinted for him, fangs headed straight for his ankles. 

How the hell ghosts were able to sink in and yank his leg, he didn’t know, but he didn’t have time to question, simply slashed out at the one on his leg, digging his knife into its back and giving it a twist. Kaden twisted to face the second beast, ready to stab the spectral creature before it leapt at him. Only he saw a flash of gold. The eyes. It couldn’t—

He faltered just long enough for the claws to dig into him, sending him backwards as the other tried to drag his leg forwards.

–

The coyotes arrived soon after the scream and with them came the familiar pounding in the slayer’s chest. He’d really only had one experience with the coyotes, the first night he’d met Regan, but he remembered it well. Well enough that she’d found them an effective threat to use against him in the time since, even if she hadn’t followed through on it. Logically, he knew they were playing for the same team here, even if he wasn’t exactly as willing a participant as the ghostly canines seemed to be, but the quiet prickle of fear on the back of his neck remained despite the logic. He didn’t envy Jude, who seemed to be the coyotes’ primary target here… but he was glad to know someone else was in their sightlines. That suited him just fine.

The fact that they provided an adequate distraction for Kaden was a plus, too. 

The ranger turned towards the necromancer, and as much as Emilio wanted to continue their altercation, he knew he needed to take his chance and make a break for it to find out what the hell they were here to keep him from interrupting. There was some guilt with it, of course — he was doing everything in his power to stop a group of people from helping their friend here — but it couldn’t be helped. As per usual, Emilio had to lay in the bed he’d made for himself whether he liked it or not. 

Of course, Kaden couldn’t make it easy on him. A heel slammed down on his foot, an elbow found his ribs with enough accuracy to knock the air from his lungs, and Emilio let out a frustrated grunt as he stumbled backwards. Kaden was gone before he could retaliate, but since the damn coyotes seemed pretty intent on tearing the ranger to shreds, Emilio figured any punches he threw would be overkill, anyway. He paused for a moment, the old instinct to help a fellow hunter who was clearly in need of a hand fighting against the promise bind tugging him back towards the cabin. Kaden was an asshole, but he was only here because he was trying to save someone he loved. So was Metzli. Maybe Jude was, too, though Emilio didn’t know for sure on that one. Either way, leaving the three of them for coyote bait felt wrong. But…

Emilio had people he loved, too. And he couldn’t keep them safe if he was dealing with whatever consequences this promise would make him pay if broken. 

He’d get Regan to call the coyotes off once he got to her. She’d agree, anyway; he’d seen clearly enough at Kaden’s apartment that she didn’t want to hurt her ex, tested the waters a little by asking her about him after. Whatever was possessing her had a strong hold, but she was still capable of containing it long enough to make sure the people she cared about were okay, and Kaden still landed pretty high on that list. He got the sense Metzli did, too. When he explained what was going on, she’d call the coyotes back and everyone would be fine. 

Hoping the coyotes would provide a sufficient distraction to make up for the fact that there was no way he’d be moving quickly after Kaden’s last attack, Emilio turned back towards the cabin and attempted to slip away. 

—

Chiquitin. The word made Jude smile, and they nodded in agreement. Cover for cover. 

Surrounded with a hunter, a one armed individual with blood in their eyes, a skeletal moose and a mummified porcupine, they felt the first vestiges of the possibility of success. Until they didn’t. Kaden dragged down, Emilio turning instead of helping. They yanked on the necrotic threads of life force for the porcupine, sending it barreling towards Kaden. Iron threads had carefully been twisted around many of its keratinous spikes, so while it was slow, when it reached them, the iron spikes dragged holes through the spectral coyotes. If mist could hiss and sputter like a boiling kettle, that was what these coyotes did, starting to melt into nothing. 

Jude snarled, pulling pen from pocket. They looked down at their bared arms, covered in almost-finished spells that just needed an extra pen-stroke to complete. Only as many spells prepared as they had skin bared, and the resurrection had been a big one. They drew a last line on another spell they had prepared, as white light crackled from the veins in their wrist along to their fingertips, and jumped into Kaden, a healing spell to get him back up. It slithered around the bite strangely, as if even the spell was confused by the lack of huge gaping holes in Kaden’s legs.

Unfortunately, the coyotes didn’t wait for Jude to be ready for the next attack. A dozen deaths demanded a dozen revenges, as four pounced right for Jude’s body. Their moose, tasked only with the responsibility of keeping Jude alive, barreled into the party, antlers down as it tried to gore the coyotes with limited success, just knocking Jude off their feet and onto their ass. The coyotes’ lips curled before pouncing at the moose,  scattering bones as it fell apart like a jenga tower. 

“Shit!”  Jude grabbed a giant femur, pushing it into the mouth of one of the coyotes. The moose bones rattled and tried to reassemble themselves without the femur, but the bone in Jude’s hand was already beginning to crack. 

–

It didn’t take a genius to see that the group was fucked based on numbers alone. But Metzli never was that bright, and they always took being backed into a wall as a challenge. A battle to see who had the hardest head. They’d given enough knockout blows with their noggin that it didn’t seem too far out there to turn the odds back in their favor. Despite how Kaden seemed to be down for the count, they were willing to persist. Having weathered so many storms, Metzli had become one themself. With a core like a volcano that filled them with a cache of pain just waiting to be unleashed upon their enemies. Because of this, they had a way with monsters. Such as the coyotes that dared instigate a fight.

Cocking their knife back, Metzli whispered their hope and anger into their attack, splitting their worries with a feverish battle cry. The spectral beasts at Kaden’s legs dissipated with the iron, but they didn’t know for how long, and they didn’t have time to ponder. They just hoped it wasn’t a lethally permanent wound. For Regan’s sake, at the very least. They didn’t think she’d be able to forgive herself if she was an accessory to Kaden’s demise. Luckily, the spellcaster that had come along with the warden had a few tricks, mocking the coyote’s attacks and undoing them right before their eyes. Metzli smiled excitedly, the alert in their chest warming up the hope as they watched the tides shift ever so slightly. 

With that motivation, they holstered their knife and charged toward Emilio. Their arm wrapped tightly around his legs and stopped him in his tracks, preventing him from doing the one thing he was bound to do. Metzli’s heart ached to know they were damning him, but that hope was a blaze and they had to believe that it would all be okay. It all happened so fast anyway. They barely had time to think. He wouldn’t understand, but undoing his perspective couldn’t be a priority when lives were on the line. 

“Emilio! ¡Ya!” Metzli exclaimed, desperately trying to keep him pinned. “You’re gonna get everyone killed! Stop fighting this! ” Limbs grew frantic to keep the slayer down, realizing the trouble Jude was about to be in as they occupied themself with Emilio. Their reanimated guards were failing, fast, and Metzli knew they were next. The coyotes circled the pair, and they shielded Emilio with their body, unsure if they coyotes saw him as an ally. 

“Kaden! Get to your friend! I’ve got it over here!” Or so they hoped. 

–

Putain. Kaden didn’t expect to die by shadow coyote and he wasn’t even sure it was possible, but it sure wasn’t looking good. He braced his arm against the coyote, which was surprisingly solid for a specter, and caught sight of Emilio for a second, sure that the slayer was going to help. And then he walked away. The fucking piece of shit walked away. A flurry of curse words swirled in Kaden’s mind and off his lips as he continued to fight off the coyote. If he just had a second to free one of his hands and use his damn knife, he could maybe–

The spirits melted away almost as quickly as they had shown up and in their place was the waddling porcupine, still very dead, but walking all the same. Kaden blinked, staring back at the creature. How had it…? Squinting, he noticed something strange about the spikes. But there was no way that– Alright, Jude brought the thing back to life along with a moose and tortured the coyote in question, they very much would be the type to turn the porcupine into a weapon against ghosts with iron on its quills. 

He winced as he tried to get up. That piece of shit ghost did a number on it. As he was planning to limp away and brace against the pain, a string of light wrapped around his leg, relieving the pain. His brow furrowed, trying to put the pieces together, only to hear the clattering of bones and whining canine spirits. Metzli sprinted past him towards the slayer as Kaden was finding his footing, heading back to Jude. “Friend is a fucking strong word!” he shouted, running head first the coyotes and the shambling moose that was looking a little worse for wear. Somehow. 

Kaden pulled the pistol from his pocket, aimed and shot the ghost directly on top of Jude. The rock salt pellets tore through one of the coyotes, the spirit stumbling as it began to melt away like the others had before. He hoped those hadn’t hit Jude, but his concern was minimal at best. One was too preoccupied with Jude’s arm to notice the hunter, but the others spun and snarled, turning on Kaden. He shot again but this time the shadowy shapes knew better, blinking and twisting out of the way. The closest coyote leapt onto Kaden’s arm while the other went for his leg. The ranger shot the first one point blank. Still not fast enough, the ghost simply faded and reappeared at Kaden’s back, digging its spectral claws into him. Putain. He dropped the gun and reached for another knife, kicking the second beast away from his knees before plunging the iron knife through the specter. What was that, now, four down? Not bad. Even if the one was still on his back. Kaden tried to slam it into a tree but only felt the wind knocked out of his own lungs as he smacked into the tree. 

–

Acidic guilt burned in the back of his throat at the thought of leaving the others to fight the coyotes alone, but what choice did he have? He didn’t know what would happen to him if he broke this promise. And besides, the coyotes were going to keep coming until Regan called them off, anyway, weren’t they? He’d be more help to this group of assholes by getting her to call them off than he would be by sticking around and letting them make a chew toy out of him.

The silent justification of his decision to leave did little to ease the guilt swirling in his chest, and maybe that was why Emilio missed Metzli’s approach. Or maybe it was the way he’d been fucking losing it for months now, or the way the whole damn forest seemed to be setting off his undead sense. It didn’t matter much what the reasoning was; all that mattered was that when Metzli came at him, Emilio didn’t realize it until it was too late. Their arm wrapped around his legs and he stumbled, falling to the forest floor.

As soon as he hit the ground, he started to struggle. Throwing out his elbows, kicking his legs, throwing his head back in an attempt to make some kind of contact. He heard the leaves crunching as the few coyotes who weren’t focused on Kaden and the necromancer approached, and he had no idea if they’d attack him or not. Technically he was on their side here, but did spectral coyote spirits bound to a possessed banshee recognize that sort of thing? Emilio wasn’t exactly eager to find out. 

“Get off me.” There was a note of panic in his voice that he’d deny later, a genuine edge of fear. At the coyotes, at the endless possibilities of what might happen if this promise was broken, at the simple fact that he was pinned to the forest floor by a vampire even if it was a vampire he begrudgingly trusted. “Get off. You’re the one who’s going to get me killed. I have to — I’ll get her to call them off. That’s the only way they’re going to leave.” 

He wasn’t sure if it was true, didn’t know if there was some other way to get the coyotes to leave them alone, but he knew that this was the only way to stop the coyotes and keep himself from facing the consequences of the broken promise. Was it selfish? Absolutely. But Emilio wasn’t only thinking of himself, despite what it might seem. Fighting the coyotes would do nothing. There were too many of them to take on, even between all four of them, and there was no way to chase them off permanently without Regan’s interference. 

Desperately, Emilio continued to lash out against Metzli’s weight pinning him down. “Please, Metzli, please, you have to let me go. I can help them.” And himself, too.

—

Jude’s shoulder stung as a stray rocksalt bullet pierced through them, but mostly they sighed in relief as the teeth inches from their face dissipated into smoke. Even as they should have had their heart pounding, it was unnaturally calm, seemingly unconcerned by gunfire or vengeful ghosts. They scrambled to their feet, snatching up their dropped salt pouch as the moose slowly reassembled itself. It didn’t know how to. Where before each bone had sat where it was in life, now it only knew the framework of a moose. Its legs were made of antler and ribs, its spine of tibulas and maxilla and mandible. Its face was no face at all, hip sockets where eye sockets once were. It guarded Jude and became smaller every time a spectral coyote broke through it, fractured bones no longer usable for a skeletal form. As more of the coyotes encircled Jude, working as a pack with one mind, they flinched as they heard Kaden hit a tree with spectacular force.

They turned to try to cast a spell to help him, but after all their deaths and resurrections, this time the coyotes wizened up. One snapped at their wrist, knocking the pen from Jude’s hand and leaving the spell unfinished, only to dissipate as Jude swung their salt at it, but another slammed into their knees. Another bit their other arm, pulling it away so they couldn’t cast anything else. Jude’s knees hit a soft pile of mud and rotting meat as pain seared through their joints as sharp as lightning, and the moose that had been trying to defend them collapsed into a pile of bone, and the porcupine couldn’t trundle fast enough. Each bite was like molten magma poured into their bones, electric heat cooking their skin. The world tilted.

“Jude, we came to a decision. You’re too powerful.” An older woman with long braids told Jude kindly, looming over them, her long full skirt dragging against Jude’s shins. Except she’d never known them as Jude. They’d been Dolly back then, because they’d missed being a woman, and had resumed it for that lifetime. It had been a harder one, but a slower one, and as Head Witch of the Vermont coven leant over Jude, they weren’t sure it had been worth it. But none of the coven knew what Jude was capable of. Jude reached for their pen, a quill back then, but they could never quite reach it. Their mind was made sluggish by a mental caster. “It’ll be alright, Jude. You’ll barely feel it.” Jude. No, Jude wasn’t the right name for this lifetime, wasn’t the right fit for the flavour they’d been back then, in stays and bespoke made dresses. 

The image of the Vermont Coven flickered, and for a second Jude could see the coyotes again. But the high priestess reached down, and tilted Jude’s face up to hers. They didn’t remember it, her name, but they remembered how she’d smiled as it began to rain around them, how thunder had crackled through the air. 

“Only one second, Jude,” She said, raising her other hand to the sky. Lightning lassoed to her hand, and shot straight through her into them. Jude’s jaw tightened and every muscle clenched right up, their body a livewire. Whether it was the roaring electricity of a century old witch’s curse or thousands of synapses firing at once, Jude’s heart finally began to race as their muscles contracted until their bones began to groan under the strain. 

The witches in their vision grinned. The coyotes around them bared their teeth as others bit deeper still. 

Only seconds after it finally began to race, Jude’s heart slowed again. This time, it slowed to a stop. 

–

The grip around Emilio’s legs waned at the desperation in his voice. It pulled at the newly forged strings in Metzli’s chest. They knew they were damning him in some way. Making decisions was nearly impossible though. Each option presented a victim, a sacrifice to offer in return. Fate, as they had learned, required balance. The impartial entity spared no one no matter the plea, so Metzli settled to do the same as bullets fired, Emilio thrashed, coyotes growled, and exclamations of pain mixed together.

Spectral beasts closed in, and so too did the vampire. Metzli covered Emilio with their body, only letting go for a breath to grab their knife. “Fuck off!” They swiped, growling and sliding up to tighten their legs around the slayer, firmly keeping him in place. Coyotes snapped and swiped, finding purchase in the Metzli’s skin, tearing. Dead blood lathered their skin, but they didn’t wave a white flag. They couldn’t afford to. 

“I won’t let you get killed, okay?” Metzli swiped, “I can make this right.” Another swipe, but this time, it was followed by a push. The blade sank and they twisted it, making the final coyote of that push yelp and disappear. With a renewed and cautious enthusiasm, Metzli let out a dry chuckle. Their body stung and ached, but they had managed to help in some way, despite their not-so-brilliant plan. 

The area grew too quiet, though. When the realization of that hit, Metzli whipped their gaze around the whole area, landing on Jude and hearing nothing. Nothing. “Kaden!” They requested, pointing with their knife. “Check them! I can’t hear anything! Their heart!”

—

Kaden barely had time to catch his breath when he felt the cold breath down his neck, the teeth sinking in, piercing his skin. Fucking ghost coyotes shouldn’t be able to cause this much pain but that thought wasn’t enough to keep the scream from tearing out of him, made from the little bit of breath left in his lungs. He doubled over and used the momentum to throw the coyote over his shoulder. It felt like his flesh was being torn from his neck, but it was hard to tell what the hell was spectral and what was corporeal anymore. Didn’t matter. All Kaden had to do was fumble for his iron knife, twisting around to stab the shadowy coyote. It started to yelp and melt away at the first contact, but that didn’t stop the ranger from raising the knife and stabbing the spirit again and again, rage pouring through him in a way it hadn’t for a while now. 

The knife dug into the dirt one more time before Kaden noticed the growls and screams coming from Jude’s direction. Shit. Shit. His attention snapped to the necromancer who was covered in coyotes. He stumbled to pick himself up and run to help. He would help. He had to help. 

The snarls grew louder and the shouting slowed. No. Kaden shot off another salt pellet. And another. Two were gone but it didn’t seem to make a difference; there was only one thing they cared about, only one person they wanted to suffer. When he was in reach, Kaden slashed his knife through the canine bodies, pushing it through them to get to the spellcaster, ignoring the claws scratching at him and the teeth bared towards him. With a flurry of iron, Kaden was able to clear the way long enough to see Jude.

“Jude, come on,” the ranger said as he grabbed their shoulder, shaking them despite the wounds covering them, trying to wake them from the shock. That’s what it was. Shock. He was sure of it. 

Their body went limp and Kaden tried again, grabbing Jude by the shoulders and pulling them to sit upright as their head lolled back. “Wake up. This isn’t funny. We have to get out of here before…” The true state of their wounds settled into Kaden’s vision, starting to make sense. The pieces were coming together, but he refused to let it be true. “There might be…” He felt their skin growing cold against his hands.

No.

Kaden reached to their neck to feel their pulse.

It was–

“No.” The word was more like a whisper than anything. Kaden’s hands released before he could think to do otherwise, letting the body flop back on top of the pile of bones and carcass surrounding them. The limp, mangled body.

The body.

All that was left was a body. Kaden was responsible for another body. In the woods. 

He was frozen. Stuck. His eyes were glued to the body. If there was more danger, anything else, he couldn’t tell, couldn’t say. The world went silent and stopped as he stared at the body of the spellcaster he’d let die in the woods. 

—

For a moment, Metzli faltered. For a moment, Emilio thought they might let up, thought he might have something resembling a chance. But only for a moment. Their grip tightened on him again between one heartbeat and the next, protective and damning all at once. Enhanced strength might have given him more of a shot if the coyotes nipping at the vampire’s skin weren’t adding to the challenge of it all, if Kaden’s shouts and Jude’s struggles weren’t distracting him, if he’d wanted to leave half as much as he should have. 

When it became clear he had no real shot at breaking free, Emilio stilled beneath the vampire, chest tight. He let out a laugh at their words, strangled and humorless. “You’re the one who’s going to get me killed,” he said flatly, though there was no real heat behind it. He’d known for some time now that this fae bind wasn’t going to work out in his favor, known that between Metzli and Kaden and all the rest of Regan’s friends who wanted to achieve something that would undoubtedly lead to Emilio’s promise being broken, he’d never stood much of a chance at all. Emilio knew well enough to know how to accept when something was over. 

And a lot of things were over right now.

The air shifted as Metzli spoke, a new kind of chaos overtaking them. Jude’s heartbeat was a hard one to read — Emilio had noticed that the first time he met them in the graveyard and almost stuck a stake in their chest — but he couldn’t hear it at all now. He shifted beneath Metzli again, this time towards the necromancer instead of towards the cabin. Kaden’s voice, a whisper that might as well have been a damn scream, was enough to tell him what was going on. 

It was an old story; someone was dead, and none of them had stopped it from happening. Emilio hadn’t known Jude well, hadn’t liked them much better, but the guilt that settled into his chest was there all the same. 

But there wasn’t time, was there? There wasn’t time to mourn, wasn’t time to fall apart. There never was. “The coyotes will be back,” he said hoarsely, letting his head drop against the forest floor. “If you let me go, I can get her to keep them away from you. That’s what I was trying to do before.” Not the only thing he was trying to do, sure, but certainly on the agenda. 

—

Metzli knew the necromancer was dead long before Kaden’s reaction confirmed it. Cemented it with every plea. Every shake hammered the rusted nails in, and though there was a resistance, there was no stopping death. Their shoulders sank, looking back at Emilio with defeat in their eyes. Empathy was a son of a bitch, but they couldn’t let it latch onto them and be a distraction because Emilio was right. The coyotes’ departure was only temporary.

“I’m sorry,” They choked out, disheartened and defeated. Metzli wanted desperately to do the right thing, but none of the paths fit their wishes. “No matter who I help, someone is going to get hurt.” They said it aloud, but they were mostly saying it to themself. Their eyes tightened shut, and they finally relented, moving from atop Emilio.

With him set free, Metzli bolted to Jude and Kaden, sliding next to them in a rush. Their hands hovered over their body, trying to find something to do, but all they could hear was Kaden’s thundering heart and the shake in his breaths. They were already so cold, and they knew there was nothing that could be done, so they just watched Emilio in the distance, hoping things would turn out okay.

—

Words were spoken, but Kaden couldn’t process the noise. Shapes moved as bodies moved around him, but all he saw was the one body. Just one. Lifeless on the death mound, just another dead thing added to the pile. And Kaden hadn’t done anything to stop it. 

He had to move. Right? And then… do what, exactly? Kaden didn’t know. The only next step he could come up with was “stand.” Anything beyond that, he couldn’t figure out. 

Stand. He could start there. 

Kaden stood and managed to peel his eyes away from the body in time to see the shadowy wisps across the way. A howl pierced through the clearing as the fog took shape, the sound growing louder as the teeth and claws coming into focus. At first it was just three, then it was five, and before he knew it, they were surrounded by a dozen shadow coyotes, back and ready for round two. The ranger didn’t know if he was ready for a round two, not when he felt this numb. But he had to, he always fucking had to fight. Iron knife in hand, Kaden braced himself for another fight, pointless as it seemed to be.

A yelp screamed to his left and Kaden’s head shot just in time to see the shadows twist out of existence. Then another to his right. Until it was all around him, yelps and the spectral coyotes fading away as quickly as they came. 

The ranger furrowed his brows, slowly looking around, trying to figure out what just happened. Were they safe? Really gone? His knuckles went white as he tightened his grip around the knife, waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under him, but nothing came. Just silence.

“It’s over,” he said. Nothing left but quiet. And death. 

—

Metzli’s weight disappeared from on top of him, but Emilio still felt heavy. He still felt as though he was being crushed, still felt as though he couldn’t get up from where he lay on the forest floor. He needed to run while he could, he knew, needed to take advantage of this distraction to go find out what the hell was going on with Regan and make sure she stopped before anyone else died, but… 

All he could focus on was the damn corpse. The body of another person dead before he could do anything to stop it. He got to his feet slowly, cautiously, but he made no move towards the direction of the cabin in spite of the tug of the promise bind trying to pull him that way. He made no move towards Kaden, Regan, or the body, either. Instead, he just stood in place, uncertain and uneasy. 

It shouldn’t have been a surprise when the coyotes reappeared; in a way, Emilio had sort of known it was coming. Every time he’d encountered them so far, any effort to remove them had only ever proven temporary. They disappeared long enough to regain their strength, or whatever it was they did, and then they came back with their teeth just as sharp and their eyes just as angry. This was no different. 

What was different was that Emilio didn’t use their presence as a distraction this time; instead, he pulled an iron knife from his pocket and held it tightly, ready to fight the beasts off. He’d never make it to the cabin before they tore Kaden and Metzli apart. He knew that. But… apparently, he didn’t have to. 

There was a yelp, quick and sharp, and then there was nothing. The coyotes were gone. Emilio’s stomach sank. This meant there was nothing left to fight… but it also meant that whatever had been going on with Regan was probably over now. And Emilio hadn’t stopped it. The promise he’d made to protect her and her fucking bones had been broken. Dread twisted in his gut. 

“It’s over,” he echoed Kaden’s sentiment flatly, a hint of bitterness to his tone. Whatever consequence he’d face for his failure was an inevitable thing now. He knew that.

—

There were many things that made a person, many things that made a heart twist and turn in a chest as a reminder that they were still living. Even if the heart itself was quite physically dead. Metzli’s did as much when they watched Emilio stand and decide to fight for and not against. There was a kind of power behind such a sentiment. He was robbed of choice, something so intimately his, one of the only things that could never leave him. Good or bad, those choices were meant to be his, and despite the consequences, Emilio stood up for himself and everyone else, informing what he had decided to stand against. The shock of it crescendoed in a way that reached everyone, ricocheting back to him until he crumbled.

“Emilio!” Metzli propelled themself forward, ignoring everything else around them. Kaden was alive and the coyotes were gone, and they needed to get to their friend. They would keep calling him that despite his persistent rejection. They never needed his forgiveness to place that label, to do what was right, and they would never ask for it. Their atonement required a sacrifice of pride, but when it came to Emilio, Metzli wasn’t seeking such a thing. What they were after was his familialship, the bond that had been created out of such tragedy. They wanted to make art out of the pieces of what was broken, and make something new. So they ran, not away, but to, and caught Emilio in their arm as he collapsed from the weight of the broken promise.

Everything was quieter than it used to be. You didn’t realize how much you relied on a thing until it wasn’t there for you to rely on anymore. Emilio was doing his best to work around it, but… It was no easy thing. Distraction, he’d found, was the best medicine. Distraction and… making amends. He was trying to get better at that.

Virgil seemed like a good enough place to start. Emilio carried a lot of guilt for his part in what happened to the kid, for chasing that manufactured ‘happiness’ the demon using Virgil’s body had offered to the point that he’d been willing to help sacrifice people to find it. He owed Virgil plenty, and a conversation seemed like the smallest place to start. Emilio sat on the bench as he waited for the fae to arrive, glancing up when he joined the scene. “Hey,” he greeted. “Thanks for meeting with me. Not always good at the… online shit, you know? Easier to talk in person, sometimes. And I, uh… Wanted to see for myself how you’ve been.” He looked different now. Better, maybe. It was good to see.

-

Virgil made his slow way to the meeting spot, gait slower and stiffer than normal due to his aching joints. He was better than he had been, but moving still hurt. It pulled at the healing skin, and the bits that stubbornly kept hurting. Keylike marks over his eyelids, the more complex knot in the center of his forehead, and the rest of the prayer marks, none of which seemed to be healing. They’d closed up enough to not bleed, but that was about it. They felt raw despite being months old. Even the acid burns to his skin and the spot on his maw where the demon had split him open from inside were better. But not those cursed marks.

He was still unsettled. The sense of being upside down, of feeling like he was going to fall into the sky, was worse now for some reason. And he was glowing. Not the natural kind which came from his eyes. It was his hair, the prayer marks, and, very faintly, the parts of his skin that’d been burnt worst by the corrupted magic. Hekakleidi’s magic was purged, but he was still feeling the effects. He was used to chronic pain, so his wounds didn’t bother him much when he was focused on other things. It was really just the bright white hair that irritated him; he stuck out like a sore thumb whether he was among humans or in the woods. He no longer felt as connected or protected by the shadows. Not as he had been, before all this.

Virgil took a seat on the bench next to who he assumed was Emilio. He hadn’t been awake for their first meeting, and he wasn’t exactly sure what Emilio looked like. But there were few humans who lingered after dark, and just one who regarded him without fear.

Emilio was a short human with dark hair. Virgil sometimes had a difficult time figuring out what humans were thinking or feeling, but the mixture of cynicism, anger, and regret were clear to even him. It looked like he wasn’t doing well either.

“It’s kind of you to want to check up on me. I am alive. I’ve been spending a lot of time asleep. But I’m bored of sleeping. It’s time for me to get back out into the world, such as I am.” He let out a humorless chuckle. “It’s good to meet you in person. Again.”

He settled into the bench, turning partially so he could meet Emilio’s eyes, and see what he could of the man. Though he was glamoured, it was clear that his humanity was a mere affectation. It was a poorly suited mask, with facial muscles and pulls that were incompatible with his true form. He rarely showed emotion through his face, but that did little to help. He hoped Emilio had a strong constitution.

The shade nearby shifted to point towards him. Shadows curled around him like a blanket, comforting despite his inability to truly be one with them again.

“Are you alright? You look a bit… tense.”

-

Christ, the kid looked like shit. Emilio was torn between sympathy for someone so obviously in bad shape and quiet relief that, in spite of everything, there was someone out there who looked worse off than he probably did. He knew he looked rough, with the bags under his eyes and the trembling hands, but Virgil seemed to be barely holding on at all. And there was a sense of guilt that came with that relief, sure, but not enough to dispel it entirely. Not enough to make it go away.

It occurred to Emilio, though, that this might be a normal look for me Virgil. Technically speaking, this was the first time he’d met the man instead of the demon. Hekakleidi had been a thing all its own, and the best glimpses Emilio had gotten of Virgil during the demon’s control had been brief at best. A split second when he’d thrown a punch the first time the demon came into his apartment. A moment or two during the sacrifices. Nothing as concrete as this.

He leaned back on the bench as Virgil took a seat, nodding absently. “I’d say you look better,” he said, “but I don’t want to lie.” Blunt, as always. Shifting a little under the lampade’s gaze, Emilio tried to shelf his discomfort. It was easy enough to remember that this wasn’t the same person who’d scooped him out of his own head to make room for someone more malleable. The differences in appearance made that clear enough. But the nervousness was there all the same, the quiet discomfort hard to shake.

The shadows moved, and Emilio’s eyes darted towards them despite knowing that it was Virgil who was doing it, despite knowing that there was nothing to flinch away from. He sucked his teeth, frustration flaring up at his own stubborn paranoia. Glancing back to the fae beside him, he shrugged. “Ran into a few issues recently. Kind of… flying blind right now. My hunter shit is shot.” The confession tasted like acid on his tongue, sharp and painful, but… he figured Virgil might actually understand it, in his own kind of way. “I’ll be all right once I get it fixed.”

-

“What do you mean, your hunter stuff is shot? I thought it was a part of you, like your skin. How did you lose it?” Virgil asked, not liking the implication there. It sounded like how he felt now: out of his element and strange, like something entirely different. He hoped that Emilio’s problem had a solution, something that could be done, besides just waiting to see if things improved on their own. Although, if Emilio was here talking to him and not out getting his powers back, he suspected that there was no simple answer. Virgil was tired of being patient, and he suspected that Emilio likely was too. Still, he had to ask. “Is it something that can be fixed?”

He thought about offering to help, but refrained. He didn’t want to be bound to another promise now, especially when the most he could do at the moment was be a nightlight. He would listen, and that was all.

“I appreciate your honesty. I’ve recovered somewhat. The restlessness is gone. But, as you can see, I have some lingering wounds.” Virgil waved his hand to his entire body, a slight, sardonic smile marring the blankness of his features. “The hair and general glow are what bother me the most. With them, the darkness cannot embrace me as it should.”

-

Emilio laughed at the question, dry and humorless. “It’s supposed to be,” he confirmed hollowly, closing his eyes for a moment. Virgil’s description was more accurate than he’d care to admit; he had lost a part of himself here. He might as well have lost his skin, a limb, his heart. That was how it felt, at least. “I don’t know. I hope so. I broke a promise.” He wasn’t sure why he offered the explanation. He wouldn’t have, to most people. But… There was a strange sort of connection he felt to Virgil. Maybe it was because of the shit the lampade had gone through that he’d been a part of, or maybe he just felt oddly connected to anyone who had more demon problems than he did.

He looked Virgil over carefully, nodding absently as he did so. He looked like shit, but still better than he had before. And he was himself. That, Emilio knew, counted for something. “Imagine it makes it harder,” he confirmed with a nod. Not just because it prevented him from using his powers properly, but because it was an undeniable physical change. A stark reminder of what Virgil had been through that no one could close their eyes to. That couldn’t be an easy weight to carry. “You think it’ll fade?”

-

Virgil’s gaze found Emilio’s eyes as he spoke of a broken promise, shocked at the revelation. “I wasn’t aware you were bound to anyone. What were the terms, if you don’t mind me asking? It seems like an overly cruel punishment.” He could see how a promise might cause problems for the human. The alarm faded fast into sympathy. He knew very well what could go wrong from promises made to the wrong person, and more than that, having one’s free will compromised was not enjoyable. The demon had crawled into his mind and made him their own. Even before that, Virgil had spent a very long year in White Crest doing his best to avoid carrying out his mother’s promise. He could only imagine how difficult it must be for one such as Emilio, given how humans faltered under harsh constraints.

“I do not think the marks will fade, no. They have been too well burned into me for them to go away. I will admit, I’m not the best with my glamour, but they will not be covered even by my best efforts.” He trailed off, gaze falling to the human-colored flesh of his wrist sticking out of the edge of his long sleeve, and the knot of runes carved there.

“I have healed from many other things. I recovered from where the demon succeeded in splitting me open from the inside. My burns are fading, if slowly. The restlessness has left me alone, so I no longer turn everything I touch black. If I had hope, I would theorize that the glow will fade like that demon’s poison did, just slower. But I do not think I will live long enough to find out.” At first, he’d hated to look at the marks, and know that they would always mean that he, in body and mind, was for Hekakleidi in the end. Now, he looked, and wanted to replace the marks with those intended for something else. Someone else, who would keep him, but not consume him in the way the demon would. His great and terrible Leshy. Nature would outlast him, and the demon. And he would die in the name of Solomon before he would surrender his mind to Hekakleidi again.

“I am exhausted with worrying about my body. It will keep hurting, as it always has. I wish to be embraced by the shadows. When the demon was in me, the shadows wouldn’t touch me, and I am glad they didn’t. Doubtless the demon would’ve corrupted them too. But despite the demon’s absence, their light still remains, and the shadows still keep a distance.”

-

Emilio laughed, dry and hollow and empty. “I was,” he replied, thinking of the two separate fae he’d been bound to, of Regan’s bodyguard job and Marina’s words tying him to Levi. Technically, Marina still had him bound, though they’d changed the terms of the agreement so that he only had to worry about keeping himself from killing the demon. Still, it felt like too much. It felt like freedoms being taken away, like sacrifices he’d never wanted to make. “I promised to protect someone,” he replied, “and I didn’t. Best I figure, the promise twisted me up so I can’t protect anyone now, even if I want to.” He wasn’t an expert on promise binds. He might ask Rhett if he wasn’t half convinced the warden would punch him in the face for getting himself into this mess to begin with.

But… his mess might not be the worst one on this park bench. Emilio knew all too well the weight that came with having a physical reminder of a trauma you’d gone through. His bad leg ached faintly, a quiet pulse reminding him that it was there, a graveyard to all he’d lost. People might not be able to tell it by just looking at him the way they could with Virgil, but it became clear enough when he walked. It wasn’t something he’d wish on anyone.

“It’s good,” he offered, “that some of it’s fading. At least there’s that.” But… the tail end of Virgil’s statement struck him, and his brow furrowed. “You think it’s coming back for you? The demon.” Virgil had mentioned it before, but the thought ticked Emilio’s heart up at the reminder. If Hekakleidi returned now, he’d be in no shape to fight them. Even with his abilities fully functional, he’d been bested on that first night in his apartment. He wasn’t exactly excited at the idea of a repeat performance.

He sucked his teeth thoughtfully, nodding at Virgil’s words with a hint of understanding. “Maybe you need to talk to another lampade,” he offered. “See if any might have some advice.” It wasn’t his best idea, but it probably also wasn’t his worst. He figured that stood for something.

-

Clarity washed over Virgil, and he nodded at the revelation of a promise to protect someone. That seemed like exactly the kind of binding Emilio would make, whether it was forced upon him or made willingly. But promises to protect were so nonspecific that it was almost impossible not to break them. Virgil had heard many a tale of the elder fae back home talking of bindings or loving vows which always ended with broken promises and disastrous results. Still, he nodded sympathetically at the human. “That sort of binding always goes wrong. Do not think yourself any less for breaking the promise. And… well, I hope you can get your hunter stuff back. I understand that you must be feeling empty. Not like yourself. But you are still a capable protetor.”

Emilio’s question nearly made Virgil laugh. Think. No, he didn’t think they were coming back. He knew that they weren’t done with him. It was one of the few things in life he was certain of. A joyless smile broke out over his face.

“The demon will come back, yes. I’m actually surprised they’ve let me go this long without retaliating. They told me I was their chosen, after all. I cannot just walk away from that, especially not after how things ended last time.” Virgil didn’t know if all demons had monumental egos, or if it was just Hekakleidi. But the way they’d gone out of their way to display that they’d chosen him, that they loved him, and wanted to stay in him forever, to anyone who would listen, and then be rejected in front of their following, was surely grounds for a painful retaliation. Perhaps they’d found a new body, but they would still want something from him. Whether it was to try again to make him an angel, or make him suffer, he wasn’t sure. But there would be something. Even at full strength, Virgil would not be able to do anything against them. And as broken as he was now, the demon could have him with zero effort. He sighed, folding his hands in his lap so he could press a thumb over the prayer mark, feeling it sting. He hated to go on knowing that he was helpless to something that would be the end of him, only he didn’t know how or when. The very least he could do was ruin Hekakleidi’s fun, even if that itself was false hope. “But I will not make it easy on them. Perhaps Solomon can cover them with his own marks. I’ll scratch them out of my flesh myself if I have to. And if it comes down to it, I would sooner sacrifice myself to him- to the forest- rather than allow the demon to touch me again.”

His voice had gone hard at the topic, chest tightening as he spoke for the first time of being helpless. He hated to feel like this, living in fear for the other shoe to drop, and for Hekakleidi to appear again. Solomon would likely not enjoy being asked to hurt him, or possibly kill him if the demon came back for him. But Virgil could only stomach the thought of his own death if it was Solomon doing it.

He swallowed, taking a few deep breaths before continuing in a more normal tone (though he couldn’t quite make himself stop pressing his fingers into the runes). Emilio had asked if it might help to ask another Lampade, and while it likely would, Virgil was more concerned with his life possibly ending rather than his issues with the shadows. “Perhaps it would help to talk to another Lampade. But the only one I’ve met here is… very different to me. I think it has to do with being from different dimensions. But maybe I will ask. It can’t hurt, I suppose.”

-

Did he think less of himself for breaking the promise? In all honesty, Emilio wasn’t sure. In the end, Regan was herself again even if the path to getting there hadn’t been something she’d wanted when she’d bound him. Plenty of people probably hated him for his part in it — he was certain Kaden did, and he didn’t think the librarian was his biggest fan either — but he wasn’t sure that this was something to be added to the list of reasons why he hated himself. The aftermath, certainly, was something he despised. The uselessness he felt without his strength or senses was unparalleled, something he was so desperate to fix that he’d nearly broken everything else in his attempts to do so, but the events that led him there? It had been a best case scenario for everyone but Emilio himself. Maybe that was part of what made it sting so badly. “Appreciate it,” he offered with a nod. “I’ll get it back.” He had to. If he didn’t… He knew he couldn’t keep going like this. A shadow of himself, a thing that needed protecting instead of a person capable of providing said protection to everyone else. Regardless of what Teddy said, he knew he wasn’t worth anything the way he was now. He had to get back to himself. Otherwise, he was no one at all.

Maybe there was no one who could understand that better than Virgil. Hekakleidi hung over the fae’s head the same way this sudden loss hung over Emilio’s. It wasn’t the sort of thing that could be ignored, wasn’t the kind of thing you could close your eyes to. The demon had taken a piece of Virgil with them when they left, held it even now with a promise to return. It wasn’t the sort of thing the slayer would wish on anyone.

That determination, too, was a thing Emilio understood. That stubborn sense of choosing what killed you, that way of knowing beyond any shadow of a doubt that you’d rather be slain on your own terms than survive on someone else’s. It was something Emilio had held onto for years now. Some days, it was the only reason he was alive at all. It was why he fought back against everything the world threw at him, why he refused to let Levi kill him that first night or any night that followed, why he intentionally bit off more than he could chew but still threw everything he had into surviving it in spite of that quiet desire not to that lived in his chest. When you’d had everything you cared about taken from you, there was a sense of feral pride in being your own destruction. Tearing yourself to pieces so that no one else could, taking yourself out of the equation just to spite someone who wanted to use you… Emilio could relate to that.

But even so… “He won’t like it.” Emilio knew that from his own experience, from Teddy tracking him down in that graveyard to stop him from letting a bunch of spawn tear him apart, from Ari camping out on his living room after Silas died, from Rhett looking at him with a critical eye any time he said something a little too off-putting. Even if it was the only path forward you had, the people who cared about you wouldn’t like the idea of you tearing yourself to pieces to win an impossible game. Solomon would be no different. “He might not do it.” Emilio’s friends wouldn’t, if he asked them to. But… “If you need a last resort, you can call me. I can’t… sacrifice you to the forest, but I can make sure the demon doesn’t get their claws into you again. I can do that.” He was damned anyway. What was one more unforgivable act, one more awful thing? He’d want someone to do the same for him, were his and Virgil’s roles reversed here. And… giving Hekakleidi the finger in the process wouldn’t be the worst feeling in the world, even if it’d probably blow back on him.

Nodding as Virgil mulled over his suggestion, not sure what else to say. If he knew more about fae, he could offer better advice. The fact that he’d found himself bound to two of them over the last few months seemed like proof enough that he was well out of his depth here. Virgil would probably be better off listening to just about anyone else. “Can’t hurt,” he agreed. “Librarian might know something, too.” She seemed to know something about the goings on in town, given the way she’d reacted when Emilio showed up to retrieve Regan’s bones. “Might have some… books, or whatever.”

-

I hope you get it back, Virgil thought, but didn’t say. This was no place for hope, or other nonsense. He found that it helped to be realistic about the situation that he found himself in, and deal with how he was now. Whether or not Emilio got his hunting ability back, he was still himself. That didn’t change, even if the human might feel like the lowest scum who barely deserved the air he breathed. “Until you do, try to be patient with yourself. I know it can feel like a death sentence. You might hate to be around the people who know you because you don’t want them to see how little you can do. But just try to work with what you have. You’re still a capable person, you just have to figure out how to do what you want in a way that works for you now.”

Virgil knew he was being hypocritical, and that being marked as useless and weak was not something you could just get over, especially not when it turned out to be true. White Crest just made his chronic pain worse, saddled him with a lightheadedness and a general sickliness. In some ways, it made it easier to deal with here, where nobody knew that he used to be: a farming boy who toiled for long hours to care for his humans and plants, used to hard work and long hours in his efforts to help the other fae. Now, he could barely go up stairs without his joints aching and popping, and the lasting feeling that he was going to black out. But Emilio was used to having a functional body, one that didn’t cause him pain, as far as Virgil knew. It did what it was meant to. Now, without the hunting ability, it was probably more jarring than it’d been for Virgil. “That might mean you pause on doing dangerous shit for a while. Don’t push yourself so hard. Maybe catch up on sleep. But you’re still normal, and you need to figure out what gives you purpose now. Just feel things out.”  

It struck Virgil as oddly sweet that Emilio would offer to kill him if Solomon didn’t like the idea. Unexpectedly, the smile turned more genuine, and he allowed himself to let go of the mark, hands stilling.

“No, I guess he won’t like it,” he said after a long pause, undeterred, but slightly less sure of himself. He didn’t consider that Solomon might not understand that it was for the best. Possibly the only way to escape the demon for good. And… he wouldn’t truly be gone if Solomon kept loving him. Whether the Leshy just killed him, or turned him into a mindless plant creature, like he’d confessed to doing while under the Tree’s sway, it mattered little to Virgil. Solomon and him protected each other (not that Virgil was much good at it), but there was no protection from Hekakleidi. There was only making sure the demon couldn’t use him. Perhaps Solomon would take some part of his, such as his antlers (if they even grew back after this), or skull to keep with him.

But Solomon might not realize that it was a good thing right away. He might want to try other things, not realizing that there was no hope for anything except a loving death. But Virgil knew that nothing would stop the demon from using him again, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop them. They had his mother, and the minds of their fae in the Mirror, and the strength of being a greater demon. If there was a way to kill them, it was lost to him. Virgil’s sacrifice was the only option. And it wasn’t a certainty. Just something that they could talk about, which might give Virgil some peace of mind. A failsafe. He knew that Solomon would be gentle with him. So would Emilio.

“Thank you, Emilio. It means a great deal that you’re willing to do this for me. I know it won’t be pleasant, killing someone you know. But this will put me greatly at ease. Perhaps it’s selfish of me to ask this of anyone, but I don’t think I could do it myself.” He did hate to go against what Solomon would doubtlessly think was best, or make him unhappy. And he wasn’t sure if Solomon would even consider it. But he thought that covering up the marks was a good first step. Solomon would understand that, at least.

“I am in your debt. If you find yourself in need of anything I can provide, just say so.” Virgil wasn’t sure if this counted as a promise. He didn’t feel any different. Just less tight around the chest. “An iron weapon should do the trick. And… if I faint and lose my form from the pain, shine a bright light on me. That should make me solid enough to keep going.”

-

It is a death sentence, Emilio wanted to insist, because he felt it might as well be. Even with their enhancements, most hunters didn’t live to be the age he was now. Without them, it seemed unlikely he’d survive the week. His best chance at making it through this, he knew, was to stop hunting altogether, but the notion was so strange that it was almost laughable. Emilio couldn’t stop hunting any more than he could stop breathing. He knew that. With a sigh, he shook his head. “Patience has never really been my strong suit.” Especially not when it was a kindness he was meant to extend towards himself.

Still, he knew that Virgil’s advice came from a place of experience. They were quite the pair on this bench — two men who’d been one thing all their lives only to find themselves twisted into something else by a force they didn’t entirely understand. Emilio didn’t think anyone else in his life could relate to this particular feeling better than the man sat next to him now, as much as they might try to. He’d lost a piece of himself. A good piece. Maybe the best piece. And he didn’t know who he was without it. Something strange, something unnatural. Something utterly useless. Something he’d never wanted to be. “That’s easier said than done,” he replied, wringing his hands together if only to give himself something to do. “Follows me sometimes, you know. Plenty of people who’d jump at the chance to kill me while I’m easier to kill. And the sleeping…” He trailed off, thinking of the nightmares that made it difficult to sleep for even the few hours needed with his slayer abilities intact. “I just need to get it fixed. That’s all.” He couldn’t stomach the thought of being this shadow of himself for any longer.

As Virgil admitted that Solomon would not, in fact, enjoy the concept of being asked to kill someone he clearly cared about, Emilio thought of the sea cave where Teddy had asked the same of him. He thought of Silas asking him for it in Metzli’s apartment just after Andreas’s death, thought of how often the people he loved asked him for impossible things that he couldn’t deny them. He wouldn’t deny Virgil, either. The relationship might not be quite as tight-knit as the one he had with Teddy or Silas, or the one Virgil had with Solomon, but Emilio still respected the lampade enough to acknowledge that he deserved to go out on his own terms, deserved not to be forced to endure whatever Hekakleidi might have in store for him.

“I’ve done more unpleasant things for less,” he replied. His life, it seemed, was often little more than a series of unpleasant choices, a long line of terrible things to stain his hands red. Adding one more to the list would hardly make much of a difference. “You don’t have to thank me. Not for this. It’s fine. I release you, or whatever I’m supposed to say.” He waved a hand, dismissing the bind as best he could. Even if he was on the other side of it this time, he wasn’t keen on making another fae bind while the one he’d had with Regan was still twisting him up like this. He nodded at the instructions. “I’ll make it quick, if it comes to it. You won’t have to —”

He broke off at a sudden sound from the nearby woods. Twigs snapping in a way he would have heard earlier if not for his powers being shot. He tensed immediately, on his feet before he realized he was standing, knife already in hand. A lumbering shape melted out from the shadows — large, leafy, walking on all fours. Christ. A fucking hedgehound. With his abilities intact, it would have been simple to dispatch. Without them, it would be a little more of a challenge. Emilio positioned himself between the beast and Virgil, knife clutched uselessly in one hand while the other dug in his pocket for his cigarette lighter. “Might want to make a run for it here, wey.”

-

Something that moved on all fours and had a plantlike hide slid out of the foliage. Virgil thought at first that it might be Alti, come to find him again to let him know that Solomon was in danger. But it was quite a bit smaller than Alti, nor did it act like him. A hedghound, not a cu-sith, judging by the vines encircling its body and the heavy smell of rot. This new creature must’ve come after Virgil. For the second time in as many trips out, his weakness and lack of ability to hide was going to come back to bite him. He didn’t regret coming to talk to Emilio, but maybe he should just take the long road through town from now on to avoid being attacked.

Emilio was in between him and the hound before he could so much as stand. Despite what the hunter had just said about not having the necessary abilities to deal with a threat like a hedgehound, Emilio drew a knife and a lighter, as if he thought he could fight this thing without it consuming him. Virgil found his feet, feeling a wave of dizziness combined with a throbbing, poppy grind to the sockets in his hips and knees. Darkness coalesced around the three of them until it was thick enough to drink from, hopefully breaking the sight lines between the hound and the vulnerable human. Before the demon, Virgil would’ve insisted that Emilio leave, since this creature was fae, and Virgil would rather just deal with it instead of having to risk Emilio getting his guts ripped open and consumed by the creature. But now, he knew that he was in no shape to elude this thing on his own.

“I cannot run. And I won’t leave you alone to deal with this. We both need to get out of here, now.”

But… wasn’t this what Virgil had wanted? For Solomon to sacrifice him to the forest, so he could live without pain? Solomon had spoken briefly of turning a few living creatures into things like this hound. Made of plants, and able to take orders from the Leshy. It didn’t look like a pleasant existence, but at least it was without pain. Virgil wouldn’t be miserable if Solomon was around to make sure he was happy. He could be a hedge-lampade. It would save Solomon  the trouble of doing this himself.

Virgil turned to the hound, letting the shadows dissipate ever so slightly. He made no move to run, nor shrink back, even when the eyes of the creature landed solely on him once again, and it snarled hungirly, coiling back into itself in preparation to strike. “Do you think it’s happy like that?” He asked to nobody in particular, having forgotten that Emilio was there. He extended a hand to the beast.

-

Virgil wasn’t running and, if he was being entirely honest, Emilio wasn’t surprised. This town, he was learning, was filled to the brim with self-sacrificing people who’d gladly give up their own lives just to keep someone else from dying alone. It was, he’d decided, pretty goddamn infuriating. Normally, he might have added insulting to the list, too, because normally, Emilio could take down a fucking hedgehound in his goddamn sleep. But… he wasn’t exactly in full form right now. And Virgil knew it, because Emilio had told him.

Goddamn it.

Emilio let out a half-frustrated, half-anxious sound from low in his throat, trying not to snap at Virgil to just go. He could hold the damn thing off long enough for the lampade to escape, might even be able to kill it without suffering any serious injury himself if he focused up. But he’d seen the look on Virgil’s face on too many others in this town to know that the fae wasn’t going to leave him there, no matter how much he might want him to.

And then, the look shifted into something else. Something just as familiar, though not necessarily because Emilio had seen it on other people. No, this expression was more like the one he caught sight of when he happened passed a mirror. The look of someone facing their own potential death and… not quite hating the idea of it as much as they ought to. Emilio grit his teeth. He might not have his usual strength or speed, but his hand still shot out to catch Virgil’s arm at lightning speed before the fae could touch the hedgehound, yanking the offending limb backwards. “Nothing happy about an end like that,” he warned lowly. He might have promised to take Virgil out if necessary, but… it wasn’t necessary yet. And dying to this wasn’t the sort of thing the slayer would wish on anyone.

There was a moment of conflict still, a moment where Emilio was caught between taking out the hedgehound and getting Virgil to safety. Both, he figured, wasn’t a solid option. Not when Virgil was in danger of either throwing himself between the beast and the hunter to protect the latter or letting the hedgehound at him to stop from fulfilling whatever purpose the mad god who’d taken him over before had in mind for him. Running away left a sour taste in his mouth, reminded him too much of Etla, of the burning warehouse, of all the worst things he’d ever done.

But sometimes, it was just about the only thing you could do.

With a frustrated groan, Emilio crouched down and threw Virgil over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. The position allowed him to lift the lampade easily enough even without his enhanced strength, and though his bad leg protested the added weight, Emilio was in good enough shape to maneuver away faster than the hedgehound could manage. “Come on, wey,” he muttered, “I guess we’re running.”

-

Virgil flinched when Emilio’s hand shot out, and he found himself automatically going completely still, face and body turning blank, mind jumping from distractedly ruminating over the hedgehound to whether or not he’d crossed some sort of line with the hunter. Was Emilio angry with him? He didn’t look any angrier than usual, but Virgil knew that he wasn’t really the best judge about that sort of thing. Despite the self destructive impulses, and the fact that he was offering a parasitic vine creature his hand, he still instinctively went into survival mode, doing his best not to look like prey, or someone who would give any satisfaction if Emilio did hurt him.

But Emilio wasn’t touching him to hurt him, he was doing it to separate him from the real threat, at least in Emilio’s eyes. He batted Virgil’s hand out of reach of the hound, the motion too fast for Virgil to really track, or feel. Emilio seemed to waver for a moment, as if making a decision. Then, with a bit of grumbling, he crouched down and picked Virgil up.

Virgil didn’t try to move away, or put up a fuss despite the fresh flood of stinging pain to his skin. Rather, he trusted Emilio to take his weight. He was suddenly tired again, and somehow sad, though he didn’t know why.

Despite a sickening rush of vertigo, Virgil managed to stay solid as Emilio hefted him up, stiffly curling around the much shorter human’s shoulders. He briefly saw the hound skitter back a step at the motion before his vision blurred out.

He was used to being carried on the hips of either his brother or Solomon, which didn’t require him to shift his head too much. For times when it was necessary to move quicker, Solomon usually let him hide as a formless wisp within the numerous cracks of his true form. He stuck to the shadows even if he fainted, so he was relatively safe from falling off while intangible. And while it wasn’t pleasant for him, he knew that it was necessary at certain times to move faster than he could handle.

Emilio was not Solomon, though. It wasn’t as simple as just willing himself to follow the beating of the Leshy’s great heart to find shelter before it became impossible to move, or stay conscious. Humans didn’t have natural places where the shadows pooled, where a lampade to hide, at least not normally. But despite that, and despite Virgil’s irritating brightness, the night afforded enough darkness for him to sink into.

Virgil dissolved first from his limbs, and then through his body. His physical form, which had always been more of a concentration of smoke dense enough to be tangible, spiraled back into the nothing it so enjoyed being these days. He shut his eyes, trying to breathe, and block out the motion of Emilio running, but it was impossible. Every jolt of his feet made Virgil disappear further.

But it was not enough to shake him loose. He was still with the hunter, just in the form of a mass of tendrils.

It was usually impossible for anyone except perhaps another Lampade to make out the shape of him like this. But the demon’s glow made him visible to Emilio’s eyes, should the hunter peer back. There wasn’t much to see, just a shiny, irregular, greyish blob no bigger than the palm of a hand. He supposed he looked like a will’o’the’wisp, or like the kind of laser that cats so loved to chase, except with him it was strange creatures who seemed to love to chase him. First the exploding not-bear, and now this hedgehound. He missed the times when he could just walk around in the forest and not be seen or bothered by any living thing. Animals, monsters, all used to give him distance, and turn away from him in fear, knowing somewhere in their minds that he should be avoided. Now, they just saw him as something to be followed.

He had purchase on the hunter’s shoulder, in any case. The hound let out an eerie yip, giving chase.

Even with his senses muted like this, the swaying was too much. He felt out of control, dizzy, as if with every lurch he was going to fall into the sky and never be heard from again. He wouldn’t. But somehow, every time he went too fast, it was beyond his ability to keep his composure. Like if he truly gave in and blacked out, he might wake to find himself adrift in the upside down sky, and never find his way back to solid ground.

The only thing that kept him struggling to stay conscious was the fact that Emilio needed him to tell him to keep going. Emilio might think that he’d fallen, and he didn’t want him to stop and allow the hound to catch up. Despite his lack of a desire to keep living, and his curiosity about what it might be like to be consumed, he didn’t want Emilio to be caught up in it. And with him currently untouchable, the human had likely become the hound’s target. He could hear it behind them, its panting mixed with snarls, the padding of four feet through the grass, doggedly pursuing them. Emilio likely didn’t want to know what it was like to be a hedge-human.

“Don’t stop,” Virgil breathed in the lungless tone of a hanged man. It was difficult to speak loudly when he was like this. He was thankful to be perched on the human’s shoulder, and easier to hear. “I might faint. But I’m still with you.”

With his task done, Virgil faded into the comforting nothing of unconsciousness, knowing nothing except the rocking of the hunter’s strides.

-

The weight in his arms shifted in a way that felt strange. Not like it was moving, but like it was changing. Not for the first time, Emilio wished he knew a little more about fae, wished he’d listened to all of Rhett’s drunken ramblings over the years. He’d always assumed he wouldn’t need it, always figured that Rhett could take out the fae while he took out the undead. But… at the moment, Rhett wasn’t here and Emilio wasn’t capable of taking out either. All he could do was carry on and hope that Virgil wasn’t going to disappear, hope that the hedgehound wasn’t going to catch up to them.

He glanced at the shape on his shoulder, the willowy, shadowy thing that breathed in Virgil’s voice and told him to keep going. He wasn’t sure, if he was being honest, if the encouragement was one he needed or not. For all of Emilio’s self-destructive tendencies, he’d never been the sort of person who could stand the idea of someone else being caught up in his carnage. This hedgehound had more of an interest in the lampade than it did in the hunter, and while Virgil seemed safely intangible now, Emilio didn’t know how long that would be the case. If he stopped, the hedgehound would consume him. If Virgil happened to fade back into solid form when that happened, it would consume him, too. And one of those outcomes was the kind Emilio couldn’t live with.

So he ran. Virgil’s less solid form made it easier, made the extra weight less noticeable in a way that had his bad leg’s protests shifting from blaringly painful to mostly bearable. He couldn’t slow down, couldn’t stop. The hedgehound was bound and determined to catch up, and Emilio was just barely faster than it. This would have been a breeze with his usual abilities, enhanced agility and better stamina and all, but as he was? It was a goddamn challenge.