#C: Owen | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chasseurdeloup · 1 year ago

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Let the Flames Begin || Owen and Kaden

TIMING: Current LOCATION: The Wormhole PARTIES: @apaininyourneck and @chasseurdeloup CONTENT WARNINGS: Building fire SUMMARY: Kaden visits the Wormhole and Owen invites him to stay after his shift. They weren't the only two to stay after close.

“Last call, fuckers,” Owen shouted over The Wormhole’s patrons, accompanied by the jarring sound of the bell that always managed to elicit a chorus of groans from the people sitting closest. There weren’t too many sad saps still left at this hour, not surprising considering it was a Wednesday night, and the slayer’s skin was crawling with pent up energy after the excruciatingly slow shift. The few shots some of the regulars had offered him were pretty much the only thing keeping him from going insane but at least this hell of a night was almost over. A few of the patrons stumbled up to the bar for one last drink, probably making sure that they wouldn’t come close to being sober on the way home while others took their last sips and exited gracefully with the bar’s lights still dim.

His attention was caught by a sole customer sitting with an empty glass, looking like he was neither getting ready to leave or order another drink. Owen probably would have let him sit and stew about whatever had him drinking alone on a Wednesday evening if a; he hadn’t currently been bored out of his mind and b; the man hadn’t looked familiar. And even if he just had one of those faces that made people think he looked familiar, he was handsome and drinking alone at 2AM. Prime material for dealing with the aforementioned pent up energy.

“You know an empty glass isn’t going to help you get drunk,” Owen said as a greeting, whipping the rag over his shoulder to brace his hands on the table currently only occupied by the solo stranger.

—

Merde, was it really last call already? Kaden had lost track of the time but, in his defense, it probably didn’t help that he ended up at the bar after a late shift. Once he was off the clock, he considered going home and collapsing into bed– well, couch. Only he wasn’t completely exhausted yet. By now, Kaden had learned that sleep without exhaustion would only lead to one thing: nightmares. Waking up screaming in the middle of the cabin once was more than enough. Not that his cousins asked any questions beyond if it was real or nightmare; they shared enough of a past to know about the darkness buried just beneath the surface. No one grew up training to be a hunt without at least a little of that. And their family had plenty.

Kaden threw back the rest of his whiskey, wiping the remains off of his lips and beard with the back of his hand. He should leave. It was time to leave. But all he could do was stare blankly ahead at the wall behind the bar, lined with bottles, both empty and half-full. His feet were planted on the ground and his body held up by the bar in front of him.

The sound of a voice addressing him brought a sharp inhale, jolting him out of his stupor. If he were anyone else, he might have jumped. The hunter training had sunk in deep, it seemed. “You don’t say,” he said, making eye contact with the bartender in question. “Does help that I emptied it.” Kaden shrugged. His senses were slow to process but the longer he looked over at the guy across the way, the more his eyes narrowed. “Have I seen you somewhere before?” If he'd ever talked to this man, he definitely didn’t remember it, but there was something familiar enough to stop him in his tracks.

—

The accent had been unexpected, vaguely familiar and registering as most likely French. Not too many people with a noticeable French accent around here, giving more suspicion to Owen’s earlier thought that the man looked familiar. Not someone who’d ever had the pleasure of sharing his bed for the night, that much was sure - the slayer tended to remember those or, in the rare cases he didn’t, they remembered him with various amounts of fondness. As he sized the Frenchman up, it seemed Owen was getting the same treatment. A smirk slid onto his face at the question, head tilting before he reached for the closest bottle of whiskey and a second glass as he replied. “Funny, that was going to be my line. Now I’ll have to come up with something original to flirt with you.”

Letting the unabashed words hang between them, Owen topped off the other man’s glass without asking, pouring a little bit of whiskey into his own as well. Anyone who’d wanted the last drink of the night was already served and he could delay closing for a little longer to satisfy his curiosity. “Owen,” he finally said, offering his hand across the bar top as green eyes searched for details and clues as to why this man looked familiar. He bore the personality of someone troubled but in this town, and this bar specifically, that meant little to nothing. The faint scars on his face were interesting however, giving the slayer another reason for wanting to see what might be hiding under those clothes.

—

“That so?” Kaden answered, one brow raised and a similar smirk forming on his own face. Wasn’t going to turn down a free drink. Not yet, at least. “Wasn’t a great line, anyway. I’m sure you can do better than that.” He watched as the amber liquid spilled into his glass. He probably didn’t need quite that much but who was he to argue? He took hold of it and lifted it in a silent cheer before taking a swig. Certainly wasn’t top shelf, but he’d had far worse.

If he was counting on the name to jog his memory, the hunter was out of luck. ‘Owen’ didn’t ring a bell. He tried to pull in what he could to make the pieces fit together and form a full picture. There was lilt in the man’s voice, not quite distinct enough for Kaden to identify its origin, but enough to indicate that Wicked’s Rest wasn’t where the bartender hailed from. Wasn’t French, though, he knew that much. He was sporting a few scars, not just on his hands, but on his face as well. That could mean a few things, sure, but it was more in line with the patrons at another bar in town than elsewhere.

‘Owen.’ He rolled the name over in his mind again while giving him another one over. And there it was– a spark. “Wait a second…” The hunter raised his hand and wagged his finger as he began to connect the dots. “You’re not– were you? That guy? The one who got kicked out of the 3 daggers?” Normally he would be more careful about dropping the name of the hunter bar on the outskirts of town, but the bar was nearly empty and anyone else that was there potentially listening was surely drunk off their asses.

—

It was always a nice change of pace when people didn’t get instantly flustered by Owen’s total lack of inhibition. Granted, he’d barely started but someone with a jawline that sharp was probably used to a hell of a lot of unabashed flirting. “Guess you’ll have to find out, won’t you?” The raised glass was met with ease, eyes still locked on this new companion even as he took a drink. It was interesting to see the cogs turning so visibly on the other man’s face, mirroring the slayer’s own thought process. It was possible he had purchased a weapon at some point but that probably would have given him some inkling as to what this man’s name was.

Before frustration began to set in, the Frenchman beat him to it and put both of them out of their misery. It seemed Owen had been right to clock the faint scars. Something akin to pride slid across the slayer’s face as a finger was wagged in his direction, arms folding over his chest as he leaned back. Another hunter. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember which kind which pointed towards him not being a slayer. Then again, Emilio was a slayer and enough of a drunk to have frequented the 3 Daggers at some point and Owen had never noticed him.

“Wow, I don’t even know your name and already you’re shaming me for something that was in no way my fault.” If there had been any shame to be found over the incident in question (there wasn’t), it in no way showed on Owen’s face. Getting banned from a bar that turned a side eye to even the most aggressive of bar fights and the filthiest language was probably one of his proudest accomplishments since arriving to Wicked’s Rest. “Seems my reputation has a bigger reach than I thought.”

—

“Holding out on me, I see,” Kaden replied. “You’re pretty certain I’m going to stick around then, huh?” He sure wasn’t planning on this going any farther than a drink or two considering Monty, but he’d be lying if he said he was ready to go home and try to fend off the nightmares already. And for now it was just flirting. Nothing he had to explain just yet. Not that he knew what the hell he would say when and if his relationship status came up. Kaden had no idea how to define whatever it was he had with the cowboy, mostly because defining any of that was terrifying. It meant he cared and things might be real or long term and all of that was… Merde. Kaden slammed back more of the whiskey in front of him, doing his best to chase the thoughts away.

The look he gave Owen was enough to indicate that he didn’t believe a damn word of that. “Something tells me there’s more to that story than you’re letting on. I got in a bar fight there my first night and no one said one damn word.” Anyone running a hunter bar had to expect some level of rowdiness and bullshit. Kaden had seen enough of them to know that a lot of things that would get you thrown out of most places slid under the radar around his peers. “I thought Walker was fucking with me when he said someone got banned. I can only imagine what the hell you did to make that happen.” He shook his head but huffed out a laugh all the same.

“Kaden, by the way,” he noted, finally putting his own hand out to shake now that the mystery had been solved. Slightly. “Ranger,” he added, “in case you were wondering.” It was usually the first question tossed around at the 3 Daggers, figured he might as well cut to the chase.

—

Owen shrugged. “Not holding out, just giving you the benefit of not having an audience when I inevitably make you blush. And of course you’re staying, I’m bribing you with booze and nice company.” It was still hard to get a read on whether or not this guy was flirting back for flirting’s sake or actually showing an interest. It was at least worth playing out, especially since none of the other stragglers left behind in the bar raised much interest.

A smile of remembrance slid across the slayer’s face as Kaden expressed his doubts, thinking back to the rather hilarious conversation with Walker. It was even funnier that the bar’s owner clearly wasn’t giving out the reason for Owen’s banishment to anyone curious enough to ask. Whether he wanted to prevent a repeated incident or was simply too pissed off still to talk about it, the slayer could enjoy the mystery of it all for now. Making up explanations for what had happened was one of the best ways to spend time conversing with other hunters. “Guess you’ll have to keep on imagining,” he replied coyly.

The offered hand was shaken, Owen’s own lingering for a moment too long before relinquishing the grip. Ranger definitely made sense. It always seemed they had the biggest scars in Owen’s experience, not surprising considering the hellish animals they were fighting. Sure, slayers sometimes ended up with plenty of scars of their own since some vampires liked to play dirty. “Slayer,” he provided back with the same ease, eyes flitting over to the clock. “If you’ll excuse me a moment.” Before stepping away from Kaden, Owen topped off the man’s glass, a clear indicator for him to stay even as the bell from hell was rung for the second time this evening and the lights flicked on.

No words were needed after that, people groaning and mumbling as they picked up their belongings and stumbled out the door. If you were a regular at The Wormhole, you knew better than to try and bribe your way into staying longer when Owen was manning the bar. People had gotten their asses kicked for less. Once the final patron had drunkenly left, singing some obscure song to himself, Owen locked the door behind him and finally took a seat on the other side of the bar, next to Kaden. “So I’m guessing you’re not banned from the 3 Daggers. What brings you here, then?”

—

“Really?” Kaden shook his head, huffing out a laugh. “Good luck. It’s going to take more than that to make me blush.” He could already hear his cousins refuting that, saying that it was pretty easy to make him blush – so long as you wore a stetson. Putain. He took another sip of his whiskey after that thought. “But fair enough. I can’t say no to free booze. Might as well give you a chance to try,” he said with a smirk. Sure, this wasn’t going to amount to anything but there were worse ways to spend his time, at least.

Kaden rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated (but exaggerated) sigh. The connard wasn’t even going to tell him how he got banned from the bar. “Come on, now I know you’re holding out on me,” he said as he leaned over the bar a little more. “Slayer? Somehow I keep running into those.” He wasn’t sure how far he wanted any of this to go, not really, but he knew that he wanted that damn story if nothing else. And it was clear that Owen wanted him to stay. He wasn’t going to argue, especially not with his seemingly never-ending glass of whiskey. He took another drink, embracing the warmth running down his throat into his chest. It made the bell ringing almost tolerable. Almost.

He didn’t have to wait too long before they had the entire place to themselves now that the other man was done with work and seated next to him. “Not banned, no. Even though I got into a bar fight the first night there.” He ran his fingers across the glass in front of him. “Sometimes I like to pretend I’m normal. So here I am.” He gave a shrug before taking another sip. “Plus, it’s a shorter walk home from here.”

—

Of course Kaden wanted to hear the story. Granted, it definitely wasn’t as grand as the secrecy surrounding it made it out to be but it was decent fun. And a good way to keep someone hooked, even though Owen didn’t assume the other hunter had more pressing matters to attend to at this hour. At the very least he was enjoying the booze. “Hmm, guess we’ll have to find out how persistent and persuasive you can be, won’t we?” Neither things guaranteed that Kaden would get his curiosity satiated of course, but it would be fun to watch him try.

With the bar now empty sans people Owen actually wanted to have around at the moment, his posture relaxed, his guard chipping away ever so slightly. Only the surface level guard, obviously, the ones closer to home weren’t made to be dropped. “First night? Feisty. I’m impressed.” Reaching for his own glass, he took a generous drink before moving around for a cigarette, one he felt was well deserved after another evening of not letting loose on horribly annoying customers.

“Not sure why normal sounds appealing to you but sure, fuck it. To pretending to be normal.” Owen raised his glass and waited for Kaden’s to meet it in the air before a grin slid onto his face. “And to short walks ho-”

It wasn’t too loud but in the otherwise quiet bar, the distant clatter caught the slayer’s attention. Glass dropped to the bar, Owen glanced at his companion before turning back to the source of the noise, cursing under his breath. Right. That’s why they checked the fucking bathrooms before closing up. “Gimme a sec,” he muttered, annoyance tinting his words as he slid off the stool and strode towards the bathroom doors. Three heavy hits on the door provided no response and he rolled his eyes, not in the mood to have to call a damn ambulance here now.

“Hey, man. Whatever the fuck you’re up to in there, we’re closed so take it somewhere else.” His fist met the door again, only rewarding him with the faint sound of someone moving inside. Perhaps the sound of pained groans but he couldn’t be sure. “Alright, your fucking call.” Heading back towards the bar, and the keys that could get him into the bathroom and get that shithead out, Owen was stopped short by what was definitely snarling from the other side of the door. His eyes narrowed and he glanced over towards the other hunter.

—

Of course he wasn’t telling right away. That meant it was either a great story or a lackluster one where the mystery was more alluring. And Owen was getting his way regardless, it seemed, because the curiosity was killing Kaden. “I’m nothing if not stubborn. I’ll find a way to get that story out of you one way or another.” Not that he was willing to actually go that far beyond the flirting. But that was besides the point.

“What can I say, I make a lot of trouble lately,” he said with a smirk, holding his hand out, hoping to snag a cigarette from Owen as well. Granted most of that was beyond embarrassing, between the cafe and the zoo alone, his version of trouble was certainly not attractive. At least not to most people. He figured Monty was an exception to the rule, lucky for him. Still, he didn’t feel the need to embarss himself this evening by recounting those tales.

Before Kaden could even finish raising his glass, let alone make it clear that only one of them was making that short walk home, the sharp noise made his head turn, stealing his attention. It wasn’t surprising that both of the hunters noticed the clattering somewhere in the back of the bar. His brow furrowed, turning to the direction it was coming from. Strange, everyone should have cleared out. He caught Owen’s glance, wondering if the slayer had any answers that he didn’t. He got the feeling this wasn’t entirely unusual by his reaction.

That might have been almost comforting. But that’s when Kaden felt it – the sensation sliding across his skin.

Putain.

That wasn’t just some guy passed out in the bathroom, it was a shifter. If he had to guess, probably a werewolf, but it was hard to say for sure then and there. Panic gripped Kaden’s lungs, squeezing them and restricting his air flow. How the fuck was he supposed to handle this? In front of another hunter, too. One who had gotten himself kicked out of a hunter bar of all places. He didn’t imagine Owen’s heart bled the way Kaden’s so often did. If he had to guess, he was more like his sister than anyone.

He stood up from his seat on the stool slowly, approaching the door to the restroom before the slayer had said a word. Snarling. Scratching. The pinpricks down his back. There was no mistaking it. But why the fuck had this goddamn werewolf picked this bar of all bars to transform? “Putain de merde,” he muttered, unsure where he was even directing his frustration at this point.

“We might not want to open that door,” he said to Owen, eyes still trained on the door separating the two hunters from the shifter. “Werewolf. Probably best to let them ride it out. Safer.” For the werewolf more so than them.

—

Judging from the look on Kaden’s face, whatever was fucking up the bathroom wasn’t just your regular flavour of snarling animal or someone high off his balls. How fitting that some form of shifter would turn up at the bar right when a hunter was hanging out after closing. Annoying as all hell, too, since Kaden had definitely been warming up to the idea of more drinks and some activities that didn’t require talking. Killing a shifter in the bar had not been Owen’s preferred method of cardio for this evening.

His hands had just grasped the cold metal of the keys when Kaden finally spoke, warning against opening the door. Sure, hunting when you weren’t expecting it wasn’t the most fun but doing nothing? And then, what, just let the guy walk out of here, bare ass flapping in the wind? Fuck, no. “You know I’m the one that will have to clean up the mess the guy’s making in there, right?” Owen argued back, even though that was far from the reason he wanted to get this over with. Before Kaden could counter, a bang much louder than the ones before reverberated around them, accompanied by a crack. Then another and finally, the door broke off its hinges, slamming on the ground to reveal the culprit.

Usually, Owen only saw werewolves when they were behind the safety net of The Pit’s ring. He probably would have figured out a way to not get killed but it was a luxury to have the hunter by his side. Or at least he hoped so since he hadn’t exactly seen the man in action. God, what if he was a shit hunter and got himself killed? Owen really wasn’t in the mood for hiding bodies tonight. Keeping his eyes on the snarling and foaming mouth, the sharp teeth and sharper claws, he let his hands roam the counter next to him until they landed on something useful. The knife, a bit small for Owen’s taste, was brandished. “Don’t suppose you have any weapons on you?” The slayer thought of his jacket, hanging in the back, equipped with bits and pieces in case of an emergency.

—

Fucking hell, the wolf couldn’t just stay behind closed doors, could it? Kaden didn’t want to fight this wolf, refused to kill it, but he knew on some level that he had to rely on his training. It was two hunters against an out of control monster. It wasn’t going to back off because Kaden was showing empathy. It would tear them both to shreds all the same. “Shit,” he shouted, jumping up from his seat. He reached into his jacket and pulled out his silver blade. A pit dropped in his stomach as his hands gripped the handle.

The beast rocked back on its hind legs and launched itself toward the ranger. Kaden threw himself to the side, ducking and rolling out of the way of the claws set to sink into his skin. Okay, had to incapacitate without killing or majorly injuring the wolf. Should avoid major arteries. That was going to be hard, he was hard wired to spot and aim for them first and foremost. Flank. Limbs. That should be safe enough and effective. As the monster spun on its heels, headed for the ranger, Kaden dodged, slashing the blade at its haunches as he sprinted past. His blade dug in deep and guilt sunk in just as deep. No, no time for that.

Owen asked for another weapon, something better. Kaden’s hand hovered over his back pocket, but hesitated. No. He didn’t want to arm this guy anymore than he was. He didn’t want to find out how deadly he could be with a blade if it meant the outcome was taking the life of a person. “Sorry, packed light tonight.” A lie. He had at least three more knives just within easy reach. The less Owen knew the better. And hey, if he wanted them, he could find them and come get them himself.

The wolf finished yowling in pain and set its sights back on Kaden. Merde. Had to think fast. Counter. He gripped the edge of the bar and swung himself to the other side where he was face to face with all sorts of bottles full of alcohol. Huh. Might be time for a molotov cocktail or two. “Keep it distracted!” he shouted. He had a plan. One that would either kill all of them or get them all out alive. More or less.

—

Focused eyes trailed the knife that appeared in Kaden’s hand, a much better weapon than the dull knife used for slicing lemons when one of those customers whined about a slice. Every muscle was tensed and prepared, lacking the usual calm and confidence that characterized his usual fights. Getting killed by a vampire was always a chance but a slim enough one to make Owen cocky in those fights. This snarling beast was a different story - it looked like it could bite off heads in a single movement. Improved healing wasn’t likely to help with that.

The fighting started, wolf making a beeline for the person in its direct view. Thankfully, Kaden wasn’t one of those hunter that was all talk and no skill. Despite the precarious scenario, Owen was definitely impressed and okay, maybe a little turned on by the determination in the ranger’s eyes. No time for that now, though, as the news of no decent weapons reached the slayer’s ears. “Figures,” he sighed, the calm of his voice jarring when mixed with the screeching sound of a werewolf in pain. If the wolf hadn’t noticed Owen before, now it didn’t give a shit, all of its anger directed towards the man that had just slashed its leg. Kaden expertly swung himself to the other side of the bar and glass shattered where the wolf lashed fruitlessly in his direction. That was going to be a bitch to clean up.

Owen didn’t usually follow orders but since this was a case of life or death, and the expert in werewolf killing was barking out commands, he let it slide. The size of the knife would only invite proximity so he quickly reached for the worn down broom, snapping off the end with his foot. The wolf was preparing to climb over the bar before its attention was diverted by Owen’s deafening finger whistle. “No dogs behind the bar.” Whether the creature understood him or not, mission accomplished.

With a growl, it lunged, massive body heading for the slayer. Grateful for his speed, Owen ducked, body sliding across the sticky ground. The stick in his hand was brandished, swinging at the furry body and making enough contact to mess with the wolf’s course. It crashed, rolling to a stop and smashing into the jukebox. The thing didn’t work anyway so Owen wouldn’t need to make excuses for that. Jumping to his feet, he turned just in time to realize he underestimated the shifter’s reflexes, large body already heading his way.

Whipping the stick around, bracing the other end against the floor, Owen planted his feet. The chipped wood didn’t sink in deep, mostly proving to make the thing angrier, but at least it was keeping the swinging claws away from his face. For now. “Any… updates?” he grunted, hands slipping on the wood, bringing his upper arm into clawing distance. It was only a second, just enough time for a single slash, but pain now radiated up his arm as blood trickled down it.

—

It was a good thing that Owen was quick on his feet, it would keep him alive. Kaden had to hope that he wasn’t too quick. He wanted to get them all out alive – that included the werewolf, whoever they were. Kaden made a note to try and figure that exact fact out once this was all said and done to fucking warn them to not get in this particular spot again. First thing was first: survival.

Kaden grabbed bottles off the shelf, didn’t care if they were expensive or not, wasn’t his problem, and started popping tops off. Towels, towels. somewhere they had to be towels. He rummaged around the back of the bar, shoving things out of the way, smashing some shit, (once again, not his problem) until he found a pile of disgusting, used towels. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.

He started stuffing the bottles he’d assembled. He had five, but as soon as the second one was ready, he dug into his pocket for his lighter. Kaden flipped it open, flicked the dial, lit the flame, and put the fire up to the towel.

This better fucking work and not start a goddamn uncontrolable fire.

Didn’t have time to second guess. Kaden popped up from behind the bar, staying low as he could while still getting a good view of the scene. There was only a stick of wood separating Owen from the werewolve’s claws and teeth. “You know it’s not a vampire, right?” he shouted over. “Wood’s not gonna help.” He really shouldn’t provoke the slayer, not when things were going in Kaden’s favor.

“Incoming!” he shouted as he grabbed the first molotov cocktail, looked around and spotted a clearing with some tables that might make a decent bonfire. Better scare off the fucking monster. Kaden threw the bottle, ducking behind the bar again afterwards, and it smashed against the furniture, glass shattering everywhere and flame bursting. The wolf turned its attention to the loud sound and the fire. The ranger watched its eyes grow wide and panic start to set in.

Take two. Kaden grabbed another and smashed it closer to the wolf, hoping to chase it away from the slayer. He didn’t think it would do too much damage to Owen but, well, the ranger figured he was smart enough to duck.

—

This was insane. This was why Owen didn’t like teamwork, much less letting someone else make the decisions. ‘Keep it distracted.’ Sure, how about just letting the fucking thing maul him to death while Kaden did whatever the fuck he was messing with behind there. Should have let the ranger deal with this while Owen ducked out and got some actual fucking weapons. “It’s fucking helping me keep my limbs!” Owen growled back, though even that was debatable considering the giant cut on his arm.

Finally, something good came from the damn ranger. Owen had joked about setting this place on fire far too often and, while mostly a joke, he did get a moment of enjoyment from seeing flames start to lick and chew at the disgusting furniture. The werewolf’s attention was caught, too. Glancing over at Kaden just in time to see the second bottle lit and brandished, Owen shoved with all his strength, pushing the wolf closer to where the bottle hit. Slightly off, as he would have liked to see the whole creature go up in flames, but a part of the wolf’s leg had gotten close enough to catch a few embers. It whimpered, eyes wide and head turning wildly until it landed on an exit.

“No, you fucking don’t,” Owen grumbled, grabbing at the nearest chair and smashing it against the wolf’s back. Finally some progress as the wolf stumbled to the ground, panic emanating from it as its eyes moved between the two lit fires and Owen. Going back to some very classic practices, he reached for a beer bottle he had yet to clean up, breaking it into something that would probably do good enough at slashing the subdued wolf’s jugular.

—

Kaden grabbed another bottle stuffed with a towel and threw himself over to the other side of the bar with the unlit molotov cocktail in hand. The flames were rising and it was clear that it was nearly time for them to exit the premise and maybe call the fire department. He smelled the singed fur as the wolf whined and looked over to see that it was cornered, scrambling for the exit when the chair landed on top of it. The creature was down, and almost out. One more hit and it would be knocked out and they could just drag the unconscious body out, maybe lock it in a closet somewhere and hope that it stayed contained until they could shift back.

He heard his hope shatter with the glass and saw the bottle brandished as a weapon in Owen’s hand. He should have known, he should have remembered that other hunters weren’t playing by his rules. The ranger grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him back, away from the wolf before he could second guess his actions. That would come as soon as he let go of the other hunter and realized the situation he’d put himself righ into. “He’s just a kid,” he shouted. “We can knock him out, drag him out of here. He’ll probably shift back by then. We don’t have to kill him.”

Kaden’s heart had been racing earlier, between the adrenaline and the action, his heartrate was up, but it didn’t compare to the pounding in his chest now, the sheer panic that was threatening to push his heart right out of him. “I can load him up in my truck and get him to the middle of nowhere in the Pines.” He knew he should stop fucking talking, stop digging the grave he had already marked for himself, but he couldn’t help it. He had to try. They could all get out of this alive, all three of them, and he would be damned if he didn’t do what he could to make that reality.

—

Owen had approached slowly, cautiously, not wanting to get caught by those sharp claws again. Too slowly, it turned out, as he was suddenly pulled back right before he could finish the job. The surprise of it allowed Kaden to pull him back a few steps, the argument momentarily making him lose focus as well. Blinking at the creature scrambling on the ground, the one responsible for the deep and painful cut in his arm, Owen scoffed angrily. What the fuck was this guy on about?

Shoving the offending hands off his shoulders, Owen turned so that he could turn his incredulous expression to Kaden while still keeping the wolf in his sights. “What brand of fucking idiot are you?” he demanded, bottle still firmly in his grasp. “Drag him out of here… are you for fucking real? No, seriously, is this an elaborate joke? He attacked us. Fucker’s not getting off that easy.” Without waiting for a retort that would most likely only fuel the anger already burning hot in the pit of Owen’s stomach, he moved quickly for the wolf once more. And again, was stopped.

This time, Owen didn’t bother to pause or listen to any more reasoning from this bleeding-heart, piece of shit ranger. Flames were consuming the bar, his arm was bleeding and a night that had held the promise of a decent one night stand was turning into a shit show. So he swung his elbow backwards, aiming for the shorter man’s face, figuring that at least someone was going to be the object of the rage now boiling inside him.

—

Kaden knew it was a snowball’s chance in hell that Owen would listen to him, that he’d agree towalk away from a werewolf that had attacked them. It was going to be a tall order for any hunter, but he could see the violence shining in his eyes just as clearly as he could see the light of the flames dancing there. “He didn’t do shit. He’s scared and he’s not in con–” The words didn’t have a chance to leave his lips before the elbow slammed his jaw shut. He tried to curse, but only found blood in his mouth from where his teeth tore the inside of his mouth. Kaden took a step back only to spit out what he could before reaching to grab the slayer’s shirt by the collar and yanking it back with enough force that he heard a seam or two pop under the pressure. “Back. Off,” he spat as he tried to wrap his arms around the man’s neck, trying to get him into a choke hold.

The flames were only growing, consuming more and more of the bar around them. The werewolf was whimpering as the fire closed in around them. Soon, the hunters would be separated from the beast by the flames. Kaden didn’t know if it was going to be soon enough, though. Or if the wolf knew well enough to barge down the door behind it. Hell, he didn’t know if they had the strength. And he sure as hell didn’t know what Owen was going to do to him either way.

—

For someone who had participated in a good share of fist fights, Owen hadn’t fought many of his own before. Not like this, anyway. A skirmish at the Three Daggers before he was asked to never show his face again, sure. But an actual fight, and to save the life of a monstrous beast at that? He hadn’t felt anger like this towards another hunter since the day he left home. The bottle in his hand was abandoned in lieu of preventing Kaden from choking him, shirt tearing and leaving angry marks on his skin. Arms slithered around his neck with clear purpose, the sudden pressure immediately bringing spots dancing into the edges of his vision.

Using his height to his advantage, Owen whipped his weight forward, grabbing onto Kaden’s arms as he did to make sure the ranger would have no option but to go with the throw. Once the other man was off him and blood could once more make its way to his head, he took a step towards the ranger, fists balled. A breaking sound drew his attention to the whole reason behind this chaos, head whipping around to catch the wolf scrambling out the window and making a desperate sprint in the other direction. With the window now broken, the faint sound of sirens approaching could be heard. Green eyes, unnaturally dark with anger, turned back towards Kaden.

—

Right when Kaden thought the slayer was going to slump into unconsciousness in his arms, the world was turning itself upside down. He landed on the ground with a thud and a surge of pain shooting through his back. He could feel the heat from the flames creeping closer to him as he worked to push himself off the ground. A crash of shattering glass rang out behind him accompanied by the sound of claws scraping against the wall. If that wasn’t enough to clue him in that the werewolf had made it out, his hunter senses dulled and faded as the distance between him and werewolf widened. Relief washed over him, but it was short lived. Not because he looked up to see Owen looming over him, no, but because he realized the werewolf was now loose and running through town. At least it was late, there wouldn’t be many people out and about. He could only hope that it was headed straight for the woods. For everyone’s sake.

Kaden couldn’t do anything about that right now, though. He had more immediate problems. Like the hunter staring him down with nothing but anger and hatred in his eyes. Like the fire threatening to consume the bar whole. Like the sirens blaring and getting ever closer. The ranger took a chance and stood up straight, hoping that he wasn’t about to be kicked back down. “We have to get out of here.” He hoped that Owen realized that there would be time to kick his ass later. He hoped that he wasn’t planning to throw him into the flames. He hoped that he was leaving this bar alive. As much as Kaden would rather walk out of the place without another fight, he wasn’t stupid enough to assume he’d be given that grace and his hand reached back to a knife stored behind his belt, hovering over it, ready to pull the blade out at any second if the need arrived.

—

This level of anger wasn’t rational, a small part of Owen realized. Being pissed about the shitstorm the two hunters were finding themselves in was enough to set anyone on edge, sure, but he was so far beyond that. It was a living, breathing thing now, making the blood in his veins burn and hands ache to feel something break. A sliver of rational thought remained, enough to see a hand reach out of sight, illuminated by the flickering flames. A sneer twisted up his features, even more daunting in the fire’s glow. “Shouldn’t have done that,” he gritted out before grabbing at the nearest chair not being engulfed by flames, throwing it in Kaden’s direction.

Then he charged, throwing his body at the ranger, weapon be damned. Owen needed to feel his knuckles meet flesh, needed this man - who had deliberately kept away his weapons and gotten Owen clawed to hell, who had let an aggressive monster escape due to some idiotic moral code, who had lit his place of work on fire instead of doing the logical thing - to pay. He wasn’t even aware of whether or not it had been easy, getting himself into a position where blows were landing in Kaden’s face. Everything was a blur, his own injuries and the surrounding heat mere background noise.

A heavy hand on his shoulder snapped Owen out of the daze, whole body whipping around to set his sight on whoever was disturbing him. The motion was followed by a slung fist, knocking over the nearest fireman who had made the mistake of touching him. Maybe everything was a bit of a blur because of the air inside, Owen faintly realizing that his lungs were burning with the effort of inhaling smoke. More people wearing masks approached, shouting something about getting them out. No. He wasn’t finished. An attempt to charge back at Kaden was halted by the firemen, Owen’s efforts to break free diminished by the fact that it was really getting hard to breathe now.

—

Shit. Kaden’s hand wrapped around the grip of his knife just before he threw himself out of the way of the chair flying towards his head. The chair missed, but the slayer didn’t, hits landing on his cheeks, his jaw, his nose, one blow after another. He raised his hands to try and block his face from taking another punch. The blade caught some of the slayer’s skin, he could tell that much even if he couldn’t tell whose blood it was splattering across his face anymore. He did what he could to protect his head with his arm, though the hits twisted around to find his jaw when they weren’t slamming his forearm into his nose. Kaden was used to the pain, familiar, but he was also familiar with this sort of anger – the type that didn’t stop, the kind that consumed like the flames that were threatening to engulf them.

The ranger didn’t want to kill or hurt anyone in the bar that night. For once, he wanted to have a day without violence. But violence always found him, ever present. So he slashed out with the knife in his hand, jamming it into whatever limbs reached out to hit him, reaching out to slash the slayer across the face, hoping that any of the pain would make him stop or at least slow down. It didn’t.

Kaden was shocked when the rhythm of pain ceased, an empty space where a blow should have been. The adrenaline pumping through him missed its cue and the ranger could feel his legs wobbling beneath him as a fireman grabbed him and carried him out of the bar. He didn’t see where Owen went, where the took him, it was too hard to watch or keep track between how lightheaded he was and how swollen his face was. If he had to guess, the firefighters were keeping the slayer from the ranger. He was impressed they had managed to pull Owen away from the fight at all.

There were sirens and questions and the throbbing pain. His ears rang and he didn’t have answers for the questions and feigned ignorance due to the beating he took, didn’t see what started the fire, couldn’t tell. The WRPD didn’t keep him, they knew they weren’t getting answers from him and they weren’t about to press a fellow officer too hard anyway, even if he was just the glorified dog catcher. Kaden looked for Owen in the sea of people as he slipped away to head back to the cabin and was relieved he couldn’t find the other man. He had a feeling that wouldn’t last forever, though – that the slayer would find him and they’d meet again soon enough. Kaden was going to delay that day as long as possible. Right after he threw a bag of frozen vegetables on his aching face.

#writing #wickedswriting #para #c: owen #apaininyourneck #let the flames begin

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