#like physically not psychically. i had to start grinding my teeth hard as fuck and flexing all my muscles to at least prevent

[featherymainffins]

One thing about me is I don't understand why people say that you should never try even one cigarette because they all got addicted after one. I had the worst fucking nightmare experience with my first cigarette you couldn't pay me to smoke one of these again.

[clansayeed]

Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ― Chapter 25: The Faceless

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ⥽

While struggling with nightmares of lives she’s never lived, a shadow from the past looming over her city, and the proposed idea that her life may just be a little bit too weird to handle alone, Nadya makes sure to tell herself that everything is perfect just the way it is. If only. When the self-proclaimed King of Vampires (and Maker of her sometimes-girlfriend and always-boss, can’t forget that little tidbit) Gaius Augustine returns intent on claiming Manhattan as the throne that was promised, she and her friends find themselves forced into the task of saving the world. But with millennia-old vampires and an Order of hunters on their heels as well as allies hiding catastrophic secrets at their backs… it won’t be an easy task. Too bad destiny didn’t exactly ask for her input.

Bound by Destiny II and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

TAG LIST: @googlesentmehere, @cess02

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Destiny II tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

A shocking confession leaves Nadya confused and Serafine on edge. But now isn't the time for them to be divided. When a hidden threat makes itself known, the only way they're getting out of the City alive is together... or not at all.

[READ IT ON AO3]

“Cynbel, please let her go.”

It’s not her lack of oxygen that has them on edge. Serafine is a vampire, she doesn’t need to breathe. But something about the sight of her slender neck and how fragile it looks in his broad palm makes Nadya — at the very least — starkly aware of how easily he could separate her head from the rest of her.

Jax is still as stone in her periphery but Nadya hears the all-too-familiar hiss of his katana handle dislodging from the sheath. That very sound has saved her life more than a fair few times but now, of all times, it only fills her with dread.

“Don’t Jax — he doesn’t…” she wishes she hadn’t looked back to see Serafine’s nails digging long red grooves into the pale arm that holds her captive; it’ll haunt her for years to come, “he doesn’t…”

What? He doesn’t know what he’s doing? That’s too tall a tale, one even Nadya herself can’t muster the energy to believe. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

She took everything from him. He’s just returning the favor.

“This isn’t what I wanted… if I had known… if someone had told me this is what I’d learn…”

Nadya almost throws her heart up on the ballroom floor. “Cadence?”

Nothing makes sense. Nothing made sense when she woke up the first day she knew vampires were a real, actual thing and they just haven’t made sense every hour of every day following. Even more now when she takes into account where she is — what she is notwithstanding. And all this happening right in front of her isn’t the exception.

But she knows what it looks like when Cadence is… overtaken by something out of his control. It doesn’t look like this.

With literally no confidence in what she’s doing or that she’ll survive the sheer idiocy of the attempt Nadya starts slowly moving towards them.

Adrian practically chokes. “Nadya—what are you doing?”

“Get the fuck over here—” hisses Lily, too. But the only one who actually does anything is Jax. Classic Action Man.

“Don’t you d—” Jax’s words get cut off, like most angry declarations do, when the back of Nadya’s hand collides with his face. Not that it was her complete intention but it does the trick and gets him to back away. Still she can feel him fuming behind her; hear the full whistle of his sword meeting the open ballroom air and every time his teeth grind together as he thinks up new ways to drag her back just as she ends up too far out of his reach.

“I can do this.” Nadya reassures them, even if she sounds a little meek doing it.

There has never been a point in her entire life where Nadya was taller than the next average human. She has a dozen more things wrong with her to have a complex about; her height is not one of them. But standing at his back Nadya can’t help but feel smaller than she really is. He’s not just tall now, is he? He’s weighed down with thousands of years and no guilt to speak of.

No, Cadence isn’t. Remember that… she has to remember that.

Steeling herself, Nadya reaches up and out with a hand that has no business being that steady when she’s ready to jump out of her own skin… and lays her palm on his back. Even she’s surprised when she sighs in relief. Nothing’s changed yet; Serafine looks ready to claw him down to the bone in the next second or two. But somehow Nadya just knows this isn’t the nightmare scenario they really should have prepared for.

“I’m sorry I called you Cynbel. You’re not him, Cade.”

“On the contrary.”

Nadya’s brow furrows with resolve. “Let her go.”

“Why should I?” before Nadya can even open her mouth, “This is who I’m supposed to be, isn’t it? This is what’s expected of me…”

Serafine’s hands fly to her neck, wiggling two—three fingers in a gap that definitely wasn’t there before. She’s getting through to him. Weirdly, and pretty much solely on luck at this point, but she is.

She takes a moment, puts on her brave face, and presses her hand down hard enough for him to actually feel her touch.

“But is it what you want to do?”

She’s waiting for him to speak when she sees it; the barest flicker of his head from side to side. Whatever came over him to begin with is sucked out into the void just as fast. Cadence recoils far across the room before Serafine’s knees even hit the ground.

Adrian’s at her side immediately. “You’re okay… you’re okay…” Crooning in her ear, kissing the droplets of sweat from her temples and holding her so tight Nadya can see the strain of it on his muscles from here but if their situations were reversed… well she doesn’t comment, leave it at that.

“Adrian —” the woman hiccoughs his name; like there’s no other word that could even compare, “— Adrian I…”

“It’s okay. You’re safe.”

“Non, mon amour… none of us are.”

Serafine’s in good hands — some of the best and Nadya has personal testimony to back her case. But she still lied, and some part of Nadya can’t help but wonder what else she’s hiding behind the psychic walls she knows about and maybe the ones still there just out of her conscious reach. So she doesn’t feel any guilt about turning away from them and running across the room, leaping over broken hunks of wood and a few husks of armor until she’s skidding on her knees along the flagstones to where Cadence sits, huddled. His knees pressed to his chest and a not-so-strange emptiness in his eyes staring through her, rather than at her.

Nadya’s watched herself in the mirror too many times not to know what a panic attack looks like. Immortal or not.

“I’m not him — I’m not him I swear —”

“I know you’re not.”

“But I am. Somewhere I can’t reach — like an itch inside of me and all it takes it one little scratch and suddenly — suddenly I don’t know where I am, or what I’ve done, and there’s always so much blood…”

She tries to laugh it off, “well you are a vampire…” but that’s not helping so probably best to pretend that didn’t happen.

Sometimes all that can be done is nothing at all. So Nadya just sits there. Pulls her own legs up against her chest (though that’s more to keep warm than anything) and rests her chin on her knees while Cadence mumbles whatever he needs to tell himself to calm down. Some of it she recognizes; a litany chant of “I’m not him, I’m not him, I’m not him,” while others are languages she’s heard but doesn’t know, and a few she’s doubtful have been languages for a long time.

Twice Nadya glances over her shoulder and through her hair to check on the others. The first time Adrian and Serafine are right where she left them. The next; they’re gone. Jax and Lily are either too smart or think she’s too dumb to be left with him on her own and, sure, that’s fair. But hopefully the smile she tries to offer them conveys just how much they really mean to her.

A loud thud makes Nadya jump in her boots. Whirling her head around to see Cadence finally easing up in his limbs and a large crack in the stone where the crown of his head decided to take a break. Besides his closed eyes and absolutely no breathing whatsoever, though, he seems relatively unharmed. Physically, anyway.

But he’ll talk when he’s ready. She just waits. and waits. and has an awful lot of time to think about certain things while she’s waiting and none of them are exactly pleasant. Unfortunately the stretching silence is more than ample opportunity for Nadya to finally understand exactly what happened back there.

She kinda wishes she hadn’t.

When Nadya finally looks up again she’s met with the familiar sharp scrutiny of Cadence’s stare. Small blessings. But unfortunately that means no more waiting around.

“You know… don’t you.”

A long, stretched silence. Like Cadence would rather have waited out the decades it took for Nadya to grow old and wither and die just so he wouldn’t have to give her an answer.

Maybe that’s why she’s so surprised that he actually does. His voice so quiet; a whisper on the wind.

“I had my suspicions.”

“Since when?”

His eyes narrow in a glare. “Oh, not long. Just since Valdas showed up on my office doorstep with a bouquet of orchids in one hand and dinner reservations in the other. So… late May, early June?”

“Alright, cool it Sassmaster General. It’s a valid question.”

“… Fair enough. There’s a litany of other small things… ones that could be coincidence on their own but trying to call them that when put together just made me realize I wanted to stay ignorant. Can’t really do that now though, can I?”

Nadya can’t help the frown tugging at the corners of her lips. “Then… why ask me to help you figure it out? Why come all the way upstate to tell me I’m your ‘last chance?’”

Amused, Cadence huffs a wheezing, heartless little laugh. “Because that’s exactly what you were. I never lied — I swear to you on that. But so long as there was even the slightest lack of proof… so long as Kamilah Sayeed bit her tongue in her fear rather than confront me, or Valdas skirted around real truths and didn’t actually know what happened during the War; I could pretend all the signs pointing to me… were meant for someone else.”

With a long groan Nadya leans back, propped up with her palms on the dusty floor and head angled up to the dark-stained ceiling. “Well that’s… great.”

He arches a thick brow. “What is?”

“Oh, you know… Listening to you has me realizing that I owe pretty much everyone in my life giant apology fruit baskets when all this is over.” Rolling her head back to attention; “Because if I sounded half that delusional I have literally no idea how they put up with me.”

It’s more meant to settle her nerves than anything else but hey, the fact it gets the barest quirk of a smile out of him is just a bonus.

“I’m lucky there. Most of the time it’s only Kathy who has to. And she’s contractually obligated, so…”

“Yeah, but she’d be there anyway.”

“You know… I don’t think you’re wrong there.”

His dry laughter doesn’t last long. In fact, it dies out right in the middle — like a scratched record. Nadya looks up to see something pained crossing over Cadence’s expression, making him bite at his lower lip until he’s wiping blood from his chin before it stains his sweater.

“What do you know about him, Nadya?”

She doesn’t need to ask who.

Cadence finally looks her in the eyes again and immediately Nadya wishes he hadn’t. The pain bleeds from him into her soul in scalding waves of despair. “Have you shared in any of his memories? I’m… I’m so sorry if you have. Because from everything I could uncover, he was not the kind of man that someone like yourself would want to get to know. Not in the intimate way the Bloodkeeper can.”

“‘Someone like myself?’”

“Someone good. Someone kind, and caring, and empathetic, and filled with a desire to put their goodness out into the world and who always seeks out the chance to do better — to be better.”

And doesn’t that make her laugh. Nadya can’t really help it.

“Well that’s kind of loaded. You make me sound like some kinda altruistic angel. I’m definitely not.”

“You are compared to him,” the vampire insists; so fiercely and like the louder he speaks the more she’ll believe him — in a way she kind of does, “hell—everyone is compared to him. That’s what it looks like when you put an ordinary person side by side with a monster.”

Nadya thinks back; back to the memory Valdas had used her to relive, to the portraits hanging in the Musea Sanguis and in Marcel’s library, and then back farther still. To things she doesn’t remember—couldn’t be remembering, not with her own mind—times of strange, chaotic confusion. Where the rest of the world was full of noise but muted; empty and hollow and devoid of the things Nadya filled her existence with the most.

Life. Longing. Laughter. Love.

Them.

And all of it gone. No, not gone… something can’t be gone if it never existed in the first place. That’s what makes their arrival so jarring; so violent. Like a knife to her middle and the blade is made of something she needed but could only accept in a terrible, traumatizing way.

Before she knows it, Nadya’s crying. And not even Serafine’s kind of silent, lovely tears either; where she’s shrieking like a banshee but still somehow perfectly pristine. She’s heaving sobs and holding her sweater sleeves to her nose to keep from looking like a snot monster and thank god Cadence is there to hold her glasses to keep her tears from staining them all up. But they sting and burn in her eyes and she misses them so—so much it hurts—so much it’s going to crush her—so much she would rather be anything but conscious if it keeps her from feeling the ache of being apart from them—

He waits until all that awfulness is reduced down to, like, a two to hand Nadya back her glasses. She takes them gratefully, voice thick with a stuffy nose, and wishes there was any way in the world she could play this off as cool.

“Do you want to…”

“It wasn’t me,” Nadya clarifies before Cadence can even get the question out, “I mean… it was me, but it wasn’t… me. Anyway that doesn’t matter.”

He looks doubtful. Glances at something over her shoulder and Nadya’s sure she looks like a real mess but she’s grateful, for once, not to have someone else to shoulder her burdens. They’re never going away. She needs to learn to deal with them by herself too.

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” —a beat— “about that. But I’m not sure about what’s gonna happen going forward.”

His shoulders slump. “Right. Because I…”

“… attacked her, yeah.” Nadya groans and pinches the bridge of her nose. “We really have to stop trying to die before we even make it back up top.” We’re doing Gaius’ work for him.

“It won’t happen again, I assure you.”

Now it’s her turn to look doubtful. Cadence takes it in stride though; like a good trooper. “Honestly,” he continues to insist, “I… will admit I was a little out of sorts back there but, no offense, she’d done the very thing I was hoping no one would ever do.”

“And how can we be sure you won’t…” What’s a nice way to mime slamming one of the most powerful vampires in the world into the wall like she was a rag doll?

“Ah,” he clicks his tongue, suddenly unable to look Nadya in the eyes, “I see what you mean. Well luckily… there’s a simple way to avoid all of that trouble. I don’t fight, I don’t black out.”

Simple, he says, and even shrugs his shoulders like they’re talking about the freakin’ weather, or what to order for appetizers. And very much not about his tendency to go Ultimate Street Fighter on anyone who so much as looks at him the wrong way when he’s like that.

Though… it does tug on a few lightbulbs in her head. “When you saved us in the alley… that was you…”

He nods and finishes it for her; “— avoiding conflict, yes. As far as I can tell, brains over brawn is the best way to go. It doesn’t always happen; my blackouts. But there’s always the risk.”

Nadya sucks her bottom lip between her teeth. “And… if it were to accidentally happen anyway?”

She really doesn’t like the way Cadence’s face falls. At least he’s being honest though…

“As far as I’m aware, and I use the term loosely, Kathy is the only one who can bring me out of those… fits.”

“‘Fits’ being flashes of Cy—” But there’s suddenly a hand over her mouth that’s keeping her from saying the name. Cadence levels a stern frown right in her eyes. The intensity of it both jarring and a little cool at the same time.

“Please… for my sake, and yours, and probably everyone’s. Don’t… don’t say his name.”

“Just in case?”

“Just in case.”

Okay that’s… maybe half of one of their problems solved. Nadya can only hope that wherever Adrian and Serafine are they’re talking, you know with their mouths, and not… anything else. Adrian would vouch for him, right? He knows Cadence pretty well — he’s always at least liked the guy.

Cadence offers Nadya a hand and helps her up. All the color drains from her face in that exact moment; which is just bad timing more than anything.

“Are you alright?” he asks, that same concerned frown back in place like it had never left.

“Yup, peachy keen.”

Note to self!! Do not bring up Adrian’s weird One Nighter with the Bad Guys!!!

When the pair come back up on Lily and Jax, her friends exchange dual looks of ‘yeah, we’re not buying this.’ And it’s sweet — they’re sweet. The best friends a girl could ask for, really. Well… a best friend and a loose acquaintance who happened to be handy with a super sharp sword.

Before they can say anything though Nadya holds up her hands and takes the floor for her own. “Yeah, it’s weird — and yeah there’s a lot that still needs figuring out. But he’s still Cade, he’s still our friend… he’s just more our friend on the sidelines than our friend on the front lines. At least until we get back up to the surface and find this stupid Tree. Okay?”

Neither of them respond. Not an option. “I said o—kay?”

Lily sighs and nods… then leans in none-too-subtly. “This isn’t a Voldemort-and-Quirrell thing, is it?”

And Nadya can say it is with full confidence that she shakes her head. “Think Jekyll and Hyde.”

“You know I can hear you, right?”

They look up into Cadence’s not-at-all amused frown. Well… at least some things were kind of normal still.

Or they were.

Until a loud, hollow groan echoes across every wall and ceiling beam she can see.

GGGGHHHHHHRRRRRR…

Lily (rightfully, even if it stings) glances down at Nadya’s stomach. She throws her arm over it self-consciously. More than a little offended but fear is rapidly overtaking every other emotion she’s capable of.

“Was that —”

“No!”

GGGGGGGHHHHHHRRRRRR…

“Are you s—”

“It wasn’t my stomach, Lil’.”

Who groans beside her. “You couldn’t have pretended with me for like… a minute?” Touche.

GGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHRRRRRRNNNN…

By the third time nobody is moving. Necks craned up to the rafters, flashlights moving this way and that desperate to find the source. Even though, by that third time, they all know a universal truth.

That the noise—whatever it may be (that isn’t Revenge of the Canned Beans)—is way too loud to be coming from inside the Manor.

But not too loud to be echoing on repeat around the cavern just beyond the door.

Way to go Nadya. You just had to jinx it!

Like a group of teenage mystery solvers their gangs collide smack dab in the middle of the front foyer. Adrian and Serafine on one end, Nadya and the gang on the other; and for a brief moment the eerie howling in the distance is forgotten in the face of their more recent… revelations.

Serafine reaches up to her throat unconsciously. The sight makes Cadence swallow and avert his eyes.

“Bigger problems, guys.” Nadya stresses; emphasis on the stress.

Adrian’s frown deepens. “You heard it too then?”

“How could you not?” Jax looks to the gaping space that used to be the front doors as he says it. They’ve barely given it a thought since their arrival. But now… all Nadya can see is a giant hole in their defenses.

Tch, what defenses?

Nobody asked you.

All together (though with Serafine pointedly on one end and Cadence on the other — no complaints here) they empty out of the King’s Manor and into the cavern. The damp air leaves a chalky taste on her tongue, but taste isn’t the sense she needs most right now.

No one moves.

No one speaks.

Nadya doesn’t even give herself the luxury to breathe.

Finally, Lily breaks the silence; raising her voice to be heard over the nearby waterfall. “I can’t tell if I’m just hearing the echo in my head or…”

“I don’t understand…” While the rest of them look around aimlessly for any sign of the disturbing noise’s source, Serafine knows these caverns well. Eagle-eyed her head darts this way and that; locking on to the staircase they arrived from as well as others in the dark too dim for Nadya to see.

Jax scoffs. “What’s not to understand?”

“The Knights collapsed the old districts during their purge. Our path was the way through which I escaped; but the rest have been sealed off ever since.”

“But isn’t there even the slightest chance one of the tunnels could have been discovered?” asks Adrian, whose shoulders slump when she shakes her head.

“Non, not this far down.”

GGGGGGGHHHHHHRRRRRR…

Nadya’s stomach sinks. No matter where they look it all rings the same. The noise is coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once; reverberating through the stone until it isn’t just one sound, but a legion.

This time, Jax doesn’t wait until it fades to voice his frustrations. “Maybe back then it would have been, but we can’t rule anything out.”

“You think we did not anticipate the City lasting through centuries of innovation?”

“Well I sure don’t think a bunch of Dark Ages scavengers anticipated the light bulb.”

“Jax —”

“No, Adrian, he’s right.”

“I don’t recall asking your opinion, Monsieur D’or.”

Senseless arguing. The untraceable growl like an ever-present white noise. It all fades to wordless noise; something Nadya can hear but doesn’t take the time to process.

And through the cacophony of it all she hones in on one sound.

Dainty, whimsical laughter.

She looks back over her shoulder to the Manor’s depths. It suddenly seems so dark inside, which makes sense seeing as they—and their flashlights—are all out here. But the cavern has a natural glow to it. Phosphorescent mushrooms, maybe. Or the way their LEDs catch and sparkle all the way down the waterfall overhead.

It makes the way back in look like a yawning abyss. Beckoning her, calling out for Nadya and her alone.

She allows her feet to carry her back inside; trusts them to guide her to where she needs to be. Every step forward and the laughter grows louder — is joined by the ancient whine of a bow on strings and the pipes whistling in the background. Music fit for a grand party.

Nadya surprises even herself when she isn’t startled by the movement out of the corner of her eye. Maybe because she’s pretty sure at this point her eyes are about as untrustworthy as the rest of her senses. This is a memory. She’s certain of that. What she isn’t certain of, though, is to whom the memory belongs.

Their group is small; no more than five or so, all dressed in dark and rich fabrics and all wearing some form of mask. She only sees half a face; nothing more… and nothing less. Odd, translucent figures flit around them like they exist in some kind of bubble but those never last. Other than Nadya they are the only ones in the foyer but that’s in the here and now. Wherever they really are — whenever they really are — they are huddled away from curious attentions.

The closest figure to her is a man with eyes hidden with a more traditional mask design. If only that did something for bottom half of his face turned down into a frown so sour Nadya feels her own lips start to twitch.

“There’s an awful lot of Faceless here tonight,” says the sour-faced man; turning his nose up at party guests Nadya can’t see, “I would not have wasted my time with such a disparaging lack of prestige.”

Nadya’s brow wrinkles in confusion. Whatever that means. But by the way his entourage reacts he’s speaking boldly and way out of line.

“Really, Marquis?” asks one of his entourage in scandalous whisper.

“I would think not showing your face would be far worse.”

“Indeed.”

“Yes, yes.” Agreement ripples out among them in hushed tones. Nadya can’t see his eyebrows behind the mask covering his forehead but his eyes are definitely narrowed.

“So quick to judge me — yet I’m eager to see how many of you survive the waltz with such slim pickings!”

A woman passes by close enough for Nadya to imagine the tickle of lace trimming on the back of her hand. The Marquis’ crowd parts, unbidden, and allows her to settle at his side. Somehow Nadya knows before the woman even opens her mouth that she is the source of the ghostly laughter that drew Nadya in.

She regards the Marquis with cool expression defined in a waxing crescent of thin silver plating contoured perfectly to her every curve. The gathering shifts dynamics. No longer do they hang on every scathing insult from the Marquis. They would much rather hear what she has to say.

“Indeed Marquis,” comes her soft reply; her voice melodic and darkly alluring, “I share your sentiments. Of course, with the weight of prestige carried by one such as yourself you must not be worried about the inevitable tilt in scales this night.”

The Marquis bristles. Nadya’s arms break out in gooseflesh.

“And what makes the great Duchess say as such?”

“Why my dear Marquis; they do, of course.”

The Duchess points a slender, silk-gloved finger towards the doors leading to the ballroom. She, the Marquis, his adoring fan club — they all turn to witness the arrival of someone Nadya doesn’t get to see. Whoever it is exists outside of what’s left of this memory.

They vanish all at once; the candle blown out by a wind both real and not that carries around Nadya and leaves her… wrathful? No, that isn’t quite the word she’s looking for. Whatever it is it’s something she’s never felt before — and that’s probably not a good thing.

The only thing that comes close is—

“There you are.”

Relief washes the worry away from Adrian’s face when he sees her. If she wasn’t still trying to put a word to this new experience of hers she’d probably echo the sentiment. But her stomach aches — like physically, painfully aches — and she has to rub her palms into her eyes as a wave of exhaustion makes him go temporarily fuzzy.

Hands fall protective on her shoulders. “Please don’t wander off like that again, Nadya…” And for a man without breath he sure sounds like it was punched out of him.

“Sorry.” But it isn’t a sincere apology as much as it is an automatic response. Nadya knows it; worse still Adrian knows it. His grip tightens ever so slightly.

“Adrian?”

“Did you find her?!”

“We’re… in here.” He calls out to answer, and not a moment later the others file into the parlor with varied degrees of relief.

They’re her friends. They care about her. So why does the sight of their faces fill her with a passionate rage?

Something is very very wrong.

“Who are the Faceless?”

A muscle tenses in Serafine’s jaw. The brief, accusatory glance she throws Cadence’s way is about as subtle as a bullhorn.

“Where did you hear that name?”

“That’s not an answer. Who are they?”

On either side of her, Adrian and Lily exchange looks of surprise — and mutually melt into concern. Sure, Nadya will fully own up to the curt, harsh tone she has right now but if they knew what she was feeling… if they could understand even a fraction of the pain roiling in her belly right now they might just be a little testy too.

Realization dawns on the psychic’s face way too slow for Nadya’s current temperament.

“You saw something… a memory.” —and is that a flicker of fear hiding in those eyes?— “What — or who — did you see?”

“Answer the fucking question.”

“Nadya.” And she’s acting like a jerk; she knows that. But the bewildered way Lily accuses her with her own name feels like a knife to the chest.

“What?!”

“No — that’s my question. What is the matter with you?”

Nadya opens her mouth — she can feel a whole litany of insults and jibes right there on the tip of her tongue — so she bites down hard enough to break skin to keep them buried where they belong.

“I—I don’t know…” her words muddled around the stinging cut, “I… I just…”

I’m so…

Dammit! What word is she looking for?!

“The Faceless were the lowest tier of our society,” answers Serafine; finally, “and by all accounts they were the majority of them as well. By our rankings they were forbidden to wear a mask — a status symbol — that would show their face. To do so was a grave insult, with graver consequences.”

“Tch…” Jax shakes his head minutely. “Ridiculous…”

“Think what you will. But they were the foot soldiers the night of the purge; the first to die… for their betters.”

Faceless.

Nameless.

Ageless.

The Manor is suddenly maddeningly quiet.

“Hundreds of them…” she whispers, “hundreds on either side. He hated being seen with them, near them, even far away. What does it matter though? Hundreds of them and he outranked them all… There aren’t enough bodies.”

Cadence sucks in a breath; his teeth clenched. He’s gone pale; as dead on the outside as he technically is inside. “There aren’t enough bodies…” he repeats, each word weighed on his tongue heavy with truth.

The rest of them join him as the historian spins in a wild circle rooted in place. They had pushed the skeletons and their armor aside after that first walk through the Manor’s main passages. It kept them from tripping over scattered bones in the dark. It kept them from having to think about the weight of lost life.

It wasn’t the Marquis’ laughter that drew her back inside.

Nadya looks down at her trembling hands and chokes on her own scream.

The sight is enough to send her into a terrified frenzy. The bulging twisting spiderwebs of black that were now her veins, of greying skin so fragile it feels paper-thin, of talons yellowing with age and crusted with layers upon layers of dried blood…

Forcing a ragged sob through her chest is the hardest thing she’s ever had to do. Like pushing a mountain through a molehill, or mouthfuls of blood down her gullet where her hungry eyes were too big for her stomach. “Getthemoffme —” she shrieks, “— getthemoffmegetthemoffGETTHEMOFF!”

She’ll do it herself if they won’t. Teary, bloodshot eyes falling on the sword just out of reach but strong arms stop her in her tracks; hold her back, stop her from getting rid of these awful—rotting hands—

“NADYA!”

Lily’s always been able to scream louder than her. So loud the echo of it rings high-pitched in her ears long after her best friend has stopped shouting her name. She clutches Nadya’s hands with her own; a horrifying sight. And no matter how hard she pulls Lily doesn’t let go. Adrian doesn’t release her from the captivity of his embrace.

The chill of Lily’s smooth skin burrows a home in her muscles and bones. She squeezes them tightly; bordering on real pain. But nothing is more painful than what’s to come.

“Nadi’…” the way Lily says her name; thick and haggard and with wet tears on her lips, “Nadi’ you’re scaring the shit out of me…”

Good! “Don’t look—don’t look at them. Don’t Lil’ don’t…”

“At what —” her eyes widen in understanding, “— at your hands? Nadya, look.”

She blinks back her tears, her apologies, her pleas of desperation… and sees nothing but her own hands — clammy and shaking but so very human — cradled in Lily’s tender care.

“I don’t… I don’t understand.”

“They’re just hands, baby girl.”

“No—no they were…” But were they, really?

Nadya keens and doubles over as another wave of something tears through her middle. Her legs are ready to give out. Adrian—bless him—is the only thing holding her up now, so she accepts it and sags against his chest too exhausted to move.

Adrian presses a tender kiss to her temple. His lips like a cool palm against her feverish fit of pique. But he’s shaking, filled with a fear all his own. He can’t swallow it down forever.

“Serafine,” he pleads against the shell of Nadya’s ear, “help her… please.”

It’s kind of him to ask, Nadya thinks wistfully, even if it’s too late. Three hundred years—left behind left in the dark—made to flee from the fire—abandoned forgotten sacrificed—scouring endless paths for even a drop enough to slake the thirst—forced to guzzle down the same taint in shared blood over and over and over again—too late.

She can hear Serafine’s somber voice, muffled through the skin tight and calloused over her eardrums. If only Nadya remembered words enough to know what she’s saying.

Words… Finally, an eternity later; she has the right word to describe the pain.

“She feels empty.”

They left her there. Insolent, vainglorious things — and they just left her. Abandoned her despite her prestige, despite her beauty and wit and charm; condemned her to twist and wither both alone and surrounded by her kind.

They let this happen to her. They let her delicate hands warp into talons and did nothing to stop her alabaster skin from greying with disease. They were content to forget her while her long hair falls out in clumps, while her own bone tries to break free from her skin and mars her with protrusions like horns for lack of success.

They honored her in wretched memory. As her youth peeled away, sinking in and hollowing out, until what they remembered and what was left was no longer the same. Until all that was left was an insatiable hunger. A starvation that consumed her — mind, body, and soul.

Her only companion… an emptiness inside.

Until now.

There aren’t enough bodies among the dead. Where did they go?

Stumbling—staggering—starving. Scrambling endlessly through winding passages, surviving on the eternal cycle of their Taint. Unable to find freedom in the tangible darkness.

They didn’t go anywhere. They never left.

Outside the ancient and hallowed walls of the King’s Manor, the horde growls. Louder than before; and now—knowing what they know—far more menacing.

“Lily,” Adrian reacts quickly, motioning for the younger vampire to help him as they both take up on either side of Nadya, their combined strength and her arms over their shoulders practically lifting her off her feet.

“We’re too exposed here. We need to get deeper inside.”

And judging by his tone he knows that his suggestion is less than ideal. But what other choice do they have?

“Do we have any idea how many there could be?”

“Don’t look at me. Those two were the ones here when it happened.”

“Technically —”

“Yeah, I included you in this. Don’t gimme that look.”

“No doubt there were a fair few of those left behind who thought Turning the enemy would be a final insult… but all it takes is one of those vile creatures to breed a swarm.”

There’s a long pause. Then— “Trust me,” says Adrian, “I’ve seen it firsthand.”

Lily wasn’t there that night. At the Musea. She had the pleasure of roughing up Nicole, not going head to head with the things vampire horror stories are made about.

“So… theoretically. How good are our chances?”

Adrian chooses not to answer; and in that moment even the tiniest flicker of optimism is snuffed out.

They regrouped in a second-floor parlor of some kind. Filled with more burned wood than the rest of the Manor and a misshapen, disfigured lump in the corner Nadya comes to realize is a pile of painting canvases. Stacked one on top of the other then set ablaze. Though the smell of oil and paint has long since seeped into the wood, potent enough to make her feel a little woozy, they don’t have any immediate plans to father elsewhere.

This parlor is the only one with a window facing the network of tunnels leading far to the north of Paris. Their only way out.

“We must assume we cannot go back the way we came,” Serafine admits gravely, “even if we managed to slip by a few of them without being heard no doubt the torches have long since attracted them like moths.”

Jax grimaces. “We practically rolled out the red carpet for them, is what you’re saying.”

Nadya doesn’t turn away from the window; doesn’t think she has the strength to do something so strenuous as turn even the tiniest bit. But she sees Serafine’s reflection clear as day, and the woman’s curt nod makes her heart sink.

They probably shouldn’t have put her on lookout duty, all things considered. Not just because every shadow she sees out along the rocks makes her blood freeze in her veins, though that’s definitely a factor.

If I can’t trust my own eyes… how can they?

Talk about being under pressure.

Jax looks at Adrian. “You guys dealt with something similar at that Ball, didn’t you? How’d you take care of them then?”

“We nearly didn’t,” Adrian admits, and it occurs to Nadya this is the first time she’s ever heard him talk about the attack at the Awakening Ball, “and when we learned it was someone from Vega’s Clan who smuggled the initial wave in, our survival seemed less like luck and more like just another part of his plan.”

“But you still fought them off, you still won.” The younger vampire insists.

Frustration starts makes Adrian’s replies terse and forced. “Yes, we did, but that was with the combined strength of the entire Council—including Kamilah’s two thousand years of experience—and more than several of North America’s strongest vampires.

“Not to mention the Trinity.”

The last part he says like more of an afterthought; quieter and more to himself. A muscle ticks in Cadence’s jaw but he remains otherwise silent.

“Then our course is clear,” Serafine steps between them; practically a whole different person than the woman in the ballroom, “we wait for their attack to gauge their numbers. Then we do whatever we can to break through to the Northern Quarter.”

There’s a weight to her words that has nothing to do with the literal Feral horde practically on their doorstep. They don’t have any other choice; not a one of them. They’re the only ones who know what weapon will kill Gaius and if that means only one person pries their way back up to tell the ones fighting back home… so be it.

“I don’t like the thought of waiting them out.”

“You do not have to like it. We have no alternatives.”

“Rrragh!”

Behind her Jax lets out a short growl of frustration. The very sound makes Nadya flinch on her stool; shoulders hunched and shaking like a leaf. The scuffled sounds of his frantic pacing stops immediately. She can feel his eyes boring into her back, watching; waiting for her to break like a little glass figurine.

She’s caught by surprise though when Cadence unfolds his arms and approaches with loud and purposeful strides. She hears every step until he’s at her back like a wall — or a shield.

On the other side of the glass the shadows shift again. Like they sensed the tension easing from her soul for even a fraction of a second and have to make up for the lost time in terrifying her. Nadya decides then that’s more than enough of an excuse to turn her back on them.

When she can finally meet her friends’ eyes she looks up to find Serafine studying her intensely. “Wh-What?” she asks, voice wavering.

It doesn’t help she’s still too scared to look at her own freakin’ hands.

“You were inside the creature’s mind.” Gee, thanks for stating the obvious.

“I know. I was there.”

“Perhaps you could be again.”

“Perhaps you could shut up.”

Lily quirks an eyebrow at her in a silent question. No doubt they’re all wondering just how much of what Nadya says and does is in fact Nadya Al Jamil… and how much is the twisted madness of a starving Feral. But they don’t need to worry; she’s pushed that thing as far out of her little personal space bubble as she could. That anger is one hundred percent hers, and one hundred percent warranted.

Cadence clears his throat over her head. “Well if it’s any consolation, Jax, it won’t be a long wait…” Unprompted, he’s taken up Nadya’s vigil; eyes so wide she can see a thin ring of white around his blue irises and focused far in the cavern’s distance.

The shadows are moving faster now. They scuttle like spiders around shallow cliffs and down the many many staircases, descending on them in a frenzied haze until there aren’t many of them, but instead one big mama shadow heading their way.

There’s no deluding herself now… those aren’t shadows.

[birchtreedemon]

The Truth

Dale came to on a cold stone floor. Sort of. With the paralysis spell still lingering on him, and the zip-ties around his wrists and ankles, it was a little hard to move.

Sawyer was there, kneeling just to the side of the triangular statue. His eyes hung open, staring blankly at nothing as though he were in a trance. It seemed to break as soon as he saw Dale. “I’m sorry,” he cried, crawling toward his friend. “I’m sorry, Dale, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

He suddenly shuddered and slumped over, and when he opened his eyes again they were gold.

YOU ACTUALLY THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO PULL OFF STEALING FROM ME! the demon cackled. Sawyer’s mouth didn’t move—Bill spoke directly into Dale’s mind. WOW! MAN, I HAVE TO GIVE YOU PROPS ON THAT ONE, FRANKENSTEIN! YOU’VE GOT THE GUTS TO GO WITH YOUR BRAINS! WELL, CONGRATULATIONS, GENIUS, YOU FAILED, AND NOW YOU’VE DOOMED YOURSELF ON TOP OF THE IDIOT KID YOU WERE TRYING TO SAVE!

The monstrous glee in the stolen eyes and smile didn’t mask the terror in Sawyer’s trembling body. Tears streamed down his face even as the evil spirit inside him gloated.  SO LET ME GUESS, Bill went on. YOU KNEW YOU COULD COUNT ON OLD MORPHO TO GET GREEDY ENOUGH TO TURN ON ME, AND THAT’S HOW YOU GOT THEIR HELP WITH THIS LITTLE ATTEMPTED ROBBERY. DID YOU TELL THEM THEY COULD HAVE A CUT OF THE PRIZE AFTERWARD? He pinched Sawyer’s arm. EH, HEARTWOOD? WAS YOUR BEST PAL DALE GONNA SELL YOU TO ONE OF HIS FRIENDS? DID YOU EVEN KNOW HE HAD OTHER FRIENDS?

Dale tilted his head down, pushing his jaw forward as his face darkened. Bill’s accusations stung, but even if he protested that it wasn’t his intent, Bill probably wouldn’t really even let Sawyer ‘hear’ it. “I wasn’t selling him to anyone. Amorphous Shape stabbed me in the fucking back.” Real anger bubbled out of him. “And promised me we could pull this off—instead they dump me the second you show up. Once a hench, always a hench, right?” He closed his eyes, partially to block out the unsettling sight of Bill grinning and Sawyer weeping simultaneously. “I’m the one that got sold out.”

It was obvious that Bill didn’t believe Dale in the slightest. RIGHT! AND I’LL BE SURE TO TAKE A GOOD LONG TIME TO TEACH THE LITTLE TRAITOR EXACTLY THAT WHEN I CATCH UP WITH THEM, RIGHT AFTER THEY SPILL ALL THE DETAILS OF THE PLOT YOU TWO COOKED UP! I’M REAL CURIOUS WHAT EXACTLY YOU WERE GOING TO DO WITH MY PROPERTY ONCE YOU HAD IT!

Bill-in-Sawyer’s-body leaned forward and hauled Dale to eye level with him. BY THE WAY, DID YOU EVER WORK OUT MY MASTER PLAN? NO? WELL, HERE’S A HINT: SAWYER HERE IS READY AND WAITING TO END THE WORLD, ONCE WE GET AHOLD OF HIS KID SISTER. JUST AS SOON AS WE’RE DONE DESTROYING YOU.

“Yeah, yeah,” Dale dismissed. “Come on and fucking kill me already, Bill. Just get it over with.”

Independent of Bill’s control, Sawyer’s body jerked. A muffled cry escaped him before Bill clamped him back down. WHAT?

“I’m sick of listening to you. You won. Do it.”

Bill snarled and lunged forward to attack, both physically and mentally, throwing his stolen body on top of Dale to grapple him down. Writhing psychic roots twisted into Dale, enough to make Sawyer whimper in pain. Were they coming from him?

WHAT—ARE—YOU! the demon roared as he ripped deeper into the oracle’s consciousness, grasping for his buried memories.

Dale fought back with every inch of his training—he stood up under Bill’s immense pressure, grinned inside his head, and launched a torrent of blatant mockery. Oh, poor Bill, the oracle taunted, the triangle nobody really likes. Can’t keep friends without paying them. Couldn’t hold Stanford Pines.  Couldn’t even stop a couple kids from ruining his plans!

It didn’t even matter that not all of these jabs actually applied to this particular Bill’s history; he was a still a Cipher, and it was enough to work him into an incandescent rage. Dale’s gambit was working, but unfortunately not quite well enough—even in his fury, he was still trying to burn his way past Dale’s defenses. SHUT UP, DAMN YOU! YOU DON’T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT ME! JUST SHUT UP!

Oh, and that tree thing, Dale went on. What, you're so desperate to stand out from the rest of the Ciphers that you're basically pulling the equivalent of a psychic emo hoodie? ‘I swear I'm not like the other Bills, Dad!’ What happened, Bill? Are you too weak to look like the others, or are you just too scared?

I SWEAR I’LL END YOU, the demon seethed.

Dale pushed back against the roots, twisting away from them, and there was a general shape within the pattern of his thoughts that implied he was maneuvering to divert Bill from ... something. Something obvious by its absence. Almost like he wanted to make Bill mad ...

It didn’t take long for Bill to realize it. OHHH. I GET IT. THE OLD BAIT AND SWITCH. NICE TRY, he hissed. THERE SOMETHING IN THERE YOU DON’T WANT ME TO FIND? LET’S HAVE A LOOK, THEN!

Dale could feel Bill moving toward the empty space he’d tried to carve out of his thoughts, and the oracle redoubled his intensity — no mockery now, he didn’t have the energy for it. He pulled himself tight against Bill and gritted his teeth and tried like hell to wall him out. He was sweating bullets. Throwing up a wall was blatantly admitting there was something to hide, but if he just kept resisting long enough, it might break Bill’s patience ... Things had already gone so wrong, and he needed to keep Bill angry, off-center, willing to lash out... It would truly be better for everyone if he could get Bill to kill him before he found out...

Dale was clearly experienced, and it was almost all Bill could do to keep his teeth and claws sunk in. But the demon was still far older, stronger, and craftier. As he grasped Dale's intentions, even as he continued to shove and strain against Dale’s desperate wall, he cooled down and fell back onto his most tried and true weapon: words.

WELL HEY, WHILE WE'RE PLAYING ARMCHAIR PSYCHIATRY HERE... YOU’RE REALLY SHOWING WHERE YOUR PRIORITIES ARE RIGHT NOW, YOU KNOW THAT? he snickered. WORKING SO MUCH HARDER TO PROTECT YOURSELF THAN YOU EVER DID TO PROTECT YOUR FRIENDS—LEAST OF ALL THE NAÏVE, PARANOID KID YOU PRACTICALLY GIFT WRAPPED FOR ME! YOU KNOW, YOU’RE SO MUCH MORE LIKE ME THAN YOU WERE EVER LIKE STUPID YOUNG SAWYER.

Dale grimaced. Every burst of Bill's speech was followed by pressure - sharp, unceasing, clawing pressure. Bill pushed along the wall, trying to sniff out the smallest crack. Hands upon hands dragged at the barrier. He tapped, raked claws, creating mental noises that screeched like nails on a blackboard. Discordant, painful.

I'm not like you!

Bill grinned. OF COURSE YOU ARE. HECK, THIS IS ALL YOUR DOING. IF HE HADN’T MET YOU, HE WOULDN’T BE THE PERFECTLY SCREWED UP SOUL HE IS TODAY. AND YOU KNOW IT, DON'T YOU? Two of Bill’s branch-like hands were cat’s-cradling strings of sickly red thread, and every time his claws plucked and scraped, Sawyer could be heard sobbing an endless stream of apologies. I’VE SAID IT BEFORE AND I’LL SAY IT AGAIN, FRANKENSTEIN—YOU AND I CREATED A MONSTER LIKE THIS DIMENSION’S NEVER SEEN! COULDN’T HAVE DONE IT WITHOUT YOU!

Bill’s hundreds of fingers squirmed at any soft points they could find in the wall. He was feeling a softening. Slow, but sure. The wall was starting to give. Dale was breathing hard, eyes flashing with angry tears.

MOST PEOPLE WOULD’VE GIVEN IN LONG AGO. BUT YOU’RE NOT REALLY A PERSON ANYMORE, ARE YOU?

Bill's fingers caught and clicked against an abrupt crack...

Then came a horrendous tearing sound from behind Bill, like a great tree splintering apart. A misshapen crimson thing came leaping out of the dark, trailing pale roots. In a half frenzy, it tried to tackle the demon from behind and get between him and Dale, clawing and screaming in Sawyer’s voice. Let him go let him go right now, you already have me, so YOU’RE NOT GETTING HIM—

DID LITERALLY ANYONE ASK YOU? Bill laughed, slamming the empath to the ground and grinding him under the heel of his palm. YOU JUST KEEP FORGETTING YOUR PLACE AROUND HERE, KID! THIS IS MY TOWN NOW, EVER SINCE YOU GAVE IT TO ME!

He pressed down harder and harder, crushing whatever was left of Sawyer’s form.

Bill was relentless with his goading chatter. GET A LOAD OF THIS IDIOT, he crowed, holding Sawyer’s shapeless but still moving remains aloft. HE KNOWS YOU RUINED HIS LIFE AND HE’S SO DENSE THAT HE’S STILL STICKING UP FOR YOU!

He forced Sawyer to meet his eye. OR MAYBE IT’S JUST THAT DEEP, DEEP DOWN, YOU KNOW YOU’RE BECOMING A MONSTER TOO, HUH, HEARTWOOD? IT JUST WASN’T ENOUGH FOR YOUR BESTEST BUD TO TRY AND STEAL YOUR SOUL; HE HAD TO START TAKING YOUR HUMANITY AWAY FROM YOU, TOO. WHAT ELSE HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN SINCE YOU MET HIM, HM? YOUR FREE WILL, MAYBE? DAMN, FRANKENSTEIN, HOW DID YOU DO IT? HOW DID YOU GET HIM SO MINDLESSLY LOYAL? WILL YOU TEACH ME?

Dale made a sound like his soul was splintering, a wordless and chaotic cry of grief and despair. Bill turned back to Dale, boring into him with his great golden eye, grinning snidely. YOU KNOW WHERE THIS ENDS, he said, half bluff, covering for the glee he felt as he got his hands in, started pulling and tearing at the wall, feeling it break apart under his pressure. He saw Dale behind it, small, angry and frantic - curled around the thing that he'd been trying so hard to hide. Bill couldn't see its full shape yet, but he was starting to get the gist of it.

LET'S MAKE IT REAL SIMPLE. WHATEVER YOU WERE TRYING TO PULL, YOU LOST, KID. I GET IT NOW, THAT LITTLE SECRET OF YOURS. IF IT'S NOT YOU - AND LET'S FACE IT, IT WAS ALWAYS GOING TO BE YOU - IT'S GONNA BE SOMEONE ELSE. YOU RATHER I GO COMPLETE THE RIFT REACTION CHAIN WITH SAWYER’S LIL’ SIS? COME ON, IT'S OVER. A FOR EFFORT, THOUGH.

Dale glared from within his broken defenses and winced at the suggestion that Bill would go after Lottie instead, if he didn't comply. Bill was right: he'd lost. He ceased to struggle then, and Bill pushed through and grabbed the thought that Dale was hiding, ripping it right out of his grasp. Victorious, he saw clearly. OH, Bill murmured hungrily. OH, YOU’RE REALLY SOMETHING ELSE, DALE ARMITAGE. YOU KNOW, YOU COULD HAVE SAVED A LOT OF PEOPLE A LOT OF TROUBLE IF YOU'D JUST MADE THAT CLEAR TO ME FROM THE BEGINNING?

Bill smiled horribly with his eye, and just like that, the three of them had melted back into the waking world. THE END'S STILL THE SAME, THOUGH. HAHHA, WOW, I MEAN, REALLY, ALL THAT, AND YOU'RE STILL GETTING THE APOCALYPSE IN THE FACE, AND ALL YOUR FRIENDS ARE GONNA DIE EITHER WAY! ALL YOU DID WAS PROLONG THEIR SUFFERING EXPONENTIALLY!

He pulled himself up off the floor, and Dale with him. CHANGE OF PLANS, GUYS! LOOKS LIKE I DON'T NEED FALLING STAR AFTER ALL! FRANKENSTEIN HERE WILL DO JUST FINE!

[solaciummeae]

You’re the Only One– Breaking Me Down Like This | Part 7

MOOD MUSIC

He’d gone to several people– more than he’d care to admit about his present dilemma. He just couldn’t stand when someone kept secrets from him like this. He was a psychic– secrets shouldn’t exist. Though it was his own fault for training her so well– and it should be a good thing that she knew how. Maybe it was more that he’d accept secrets from anyone else but when it came to Emma, he couldn’t bear it. He’s determined now to confront her. He sleeps on the couch damn near every night now at Bobby’s because he doesn’t trust this guy any further than he can throw him. The blonde frowns thinking about just how much this Adam character looks like himself but taller– funnier– and close to Emma in a way Jude only dreams to be.

The feelings that stir in him are abnormal for the usually calm and collected person he is. He just can’t take this anymore. He can’t stand allowing this prick to come in here and act like he owns the place. More importantly, he won’t allow him to possess the only thing Jude has ever desired so badly in the entirety of his rather miserable existence. And that was Emma’s heart. It’d been three weeks since the supposed cousin showed up and with each day Emma spent more time fussing over him. It was actually quite disgusting the way she fawned over him– taking care of him– adoring him as if he hung the moon in the sky. It made zero sense to Jude who had done every ounce of research to find out who this guy really was and come up completely empty handed.

He tells himself that he’s just worried what that could mean. This man could be dangerous. He could be the very type of person that Emma needs to be as far away from as possible. So if nothing else, that’s exactly what Jude intends to tell Emma.

He waits for Adam to retreat to his motel for the night. He’s thankful that if nothing else, the younger man had insisted on not staying at Bobby’s even after Emma had tried to convince him. Bobby himself was out on a hunt. Some haunting the next state over that had already claimed half a dozen lives in the past month. Sam was asleep in his own room, while Dean had gone out to V’s for a nightcap. He’s also grateful that he’s earned the trust of his fellow hunters so much so that they’d entrust Emma’s care to him. He inhales a deep breath, reminding himself that it isn’t like him to be territorial and that it will get him absolutely nowhere with the woman upstairs. Then again, maybe it would. Was he too passive? Another frown takes over his face as he starts jogging lightly up the stairs to her bedroom. This time, he’s determined to be not just what she needs, but what she wants too.

He can hear her humming the same song she seemed to be stuck on lately. A song she’d grown fond of since Adam had shown up. He grinds his teeth and knocks on the door, but doesn’t wait for permission to enter. This, of course, is his first mistake.

“Jude!” She shouts, immediately covering herself with her arms.

“I’m sorry!” He exclaims, turning away from her immediately, squeezing his eyes shut as though it will erase the visual from his mind.

She’d just gotten out of a nice cold shower, sick of the heat that the summer brought. Sometimes it seemed as though her room was the warmest in the house. At least she’d had the sense to half clothe herself before her idiot friend barged into her room. It wasn’t unlike her to wander around in boxers and her bra when she was held up in her room, again, due to the heat. She’s momentarily disoriented as she looks around desperately for a tank top. She makes her way over to her dresser which is dangerously close to where he stands. She opens the second to the top drawer and pulls out the first thing she finds, practically tearing it over her body.

She turns to face him, crossing her arms over her chest and scowling at her bed so she doesn’t have to look at him. “What do you want?” She demands. “What is so important that you couldn’t fucking wait for me to even respond before bursting into my room like the house was on fire.” Okay, so maybe she was being a little dramatic. It wasn’t like he’d seen a lot and all things considered– it really was only a matter of time before he did.

Jude grimaces. “Can I look now?” His voice is much softer than hers, as if he’s scared of causing further upset.

“No moron– I’m just going to stand here with you in my room without a shirt on.” She snaps, her head lolling as if a physical wave of anger pulses through her. “Now answer my question.”

He turns to face her, somewhat relieved that there’s no truth to her sarcasm. He doesn’t like that she’s so upset with him. Her own defensiveness only serves to set him even more on edge. He finds that all the courage he’d mustered to have a serious talk with her is now gone. He just sort of stares at her almost pleading with his eyes for her to go easy on him. So the possessive boyfriend wasn’t the way to go. ‘You’re not her boyfriend Judah– not even close.’ He reminds himself, taking another breath.

“Speak!” She barks.

“Okay! Okay!” He concedes, raising his hands in surrender. “Look, I just think we need to talk…about Adam.” He’s sure that the look of sheer anxiety at the topic is written all over his face.

Her head snaps in his direction but stops so that she can give him a sideways warning stare. “What about Adam?” She asks in such a way that his suspicions only grow.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with him–”

“Yeah, I spend a lot of time with you too– I don’t see you complaining about that.” The brunette snorts causing her chest to jump.

“Will you let me finish before you make me feel like an idiot?” He half whines. “Believe me– this is hard enough for me as it is.” He admits, hoping that by some miracle if he’s open with her, she won’t just turn him away again.

“Fine, go.” She’s short with him, but she feels as though she has to be. She and Adam hadn’t really worked out the part about telling Jude the truth yet. Anything she might tell him could cause repercussion for which she didn’t want to even imagine.

He swallows, finding his thoughts now even more jumbled than they had been. Being put on the spot wasn’t easy for anyone, not even him. “You spend a lot of time with him– and you guys seem really close– but you just met him and you don’t even know him. There’s something about him Em, I can never get a read on him and I’ve tried looking Adam Harper up and I’ve come up with nothing. Its like he doesn’t even exist.” He spills everything he can possibly think of. “I don’t trust him. And frankly, until he tells us who he really is– I don’t think you should be seeing him so much.” He finishes quietly, his voice still holding its usual nasal quality when he was desperate for her to listen to him.

“You’ve been spying on him!?” She roars.

“Emma, please– what if he’s a demon– what if he’s just making this cousin thing up to get close to you?”

This is quickly escalating and causing panic of her own to rise within her. He knew something was up, of course he did– not much got past Jude. “You’re being ridiculous.” She attempts to mask any real fear of her own nonchalantly. “In fact– if I didn’t know any better I’d say you sound a little jealous– which is really ridiculous.” She huffs a laugh, facing away from him. Sure, Adam was a very real, very tangible person who she knew to be her son with every fiber of her being. However, that didn’t mean she’d gotten any more used to the idea that Jude was his father. That part was too weird, and a little too much for her.

“And if I was?” He replies firmly, his face now far more severe.

She can’t help it. She just starts cracking up. She can’t even look at him without immediately bursting into more fits of laughter. This was absurd. Adam or not– it wasn’t like that with them. Jude was one of her closest friends but anything more than that would be a little too surreal. “Oh please…”

His jaw falls damn near to the floor beneath his feet. She was laughing at him. And it was like some short scoff or snort at the idea. She could not stop– like it was the most obscene thing she’d ever heard. “If your intent was to make me feel completely stupid– congratulations, you’ve definitely succeeded.” He informs her sternly, still looking at her wide eyed.

Okay, so that was a little too sincere. She wants to laugh again, to tell him to stop messing around but she can’t. Its even worse when she does finally look at him and her eyes only fall to the hardwood. She isn’t sure what to say, she doesn’t even know what to do. The whole situation had just become a little too real– as if her future son showing up hadn’t been enough.

She swallows, her eyes hesitantly rising to meet his again, this time almost ashamed. Its her first instinct to question him but when his eyebrows jump expectantly she has to remember to breathe. “Why are you jealous of Adam?” Its the only half intelligent thing she can think to say, but her voice is just as wary as her stare.

At least that’s a question he should know how to answer. At least she’s taking him seriously. Both things he reminds himself before searching for an answer that won’t cause her to push him away. Still, how do you tell someone that you’ve been in love with them since the first time they entered your mind and you theirs. He heaves a sigh and casts his own eyes to the floor. “Because–” He falters, still not knowing how to tell her. She was too special to screw this up. To tell her that he liked her seemed childish and a complete understatement.

She scowls at him again. She’s never seen him struggle so much to talk to anyone. It makes her all the more nervous. Maybe she’d greatly underestimated certain truths she’d been so dismissive about before. She takes a few steps closer to him, her own head dipping so she can find his eyes. “Since when do you not know how to talk to me?” She half teases, trying to offer him a smile. Its almost as if they’ve switch places entirely. In most situations, he could comfort her through anything while she always played the panicked mess role. Its not that she isn’t terrified. The implications of certain recent events prove that she has a destiny far beyond what she’s previously thought. A destiny– which the man in front of her plays a big part in.

“Since you shut me out–…” He finally quips sounding more than a little dejected.

Her eyes close tightly, feeling as though he’s right. She supposes maybe she didn’t take into consideration just how much it would bother him. She doesn’t know how to comfort him now without exposing Adam before he’s ready. “I’m sorry…” She apologizes, opening her eyes to him again.

He can’t help but scoff, still hurt by her reaction to the idea that maybe he harbored more than platonic feelings for her. “Why? Because you can’t tell me the truth about Adam? Or because you don’t feel the same?”

“I can’t tell you Adam’s story because its not mine to tell–” It was half true at least. “But I’m not following the second part.”

‘Yes you are Emma– don’t play dumb, its not an attractive quality.’ Her own minds scolds her above anything else floating around in it at present. She can’t help the doubt, its been so deeply ingrained in every corner of her brain after so many years.

“Jesus Christ Emma! I’ve been in love with you since I met you!” He cries holding none of the aforementioned desperation back now. As soon as it comes out of him he silently apologizes to God in his mind for the use of the curse. “You are so damn frustrating sometimes; its like you don’t want to see what’s right in front of you!” He goes on, sure that he’s turned red either from embarrassment or the pressure of holding it all in for so long.

“If I’m so damn frustrating then how could you possibly be–” She stumbles harshly, not even able to bring herself to repeat his words.

He nods slowly, with the same look of urgent expectancy. “In love with you.” He repeats.

“Stop saying that!” Her voice rises.

“Why? Because its true or because you don’t want it to be.” He retorts vehemently. ‘Okay man– come on– you’re not making this any easier on her.’ His mind chides once more, hoping she’s not listening to his thoughts right now.

“No!” She throws back angrily. Her hands come to the sides of her head which frankly, feels as thought it might explode. She needs the people in it to shut up, Jude to stop, and his overwhelmingly potent emotions to stop engulfing her like waves. She’s so consumed by all of it that she finds herself resenting him for even coming up here. There’s absolutely nothing she can say in her own defense because he’s right. The fact that Adam exists– should be really be enough. It shouldn’t take Jude yelling at her to get her to see the inevitable. She’s panicked and she doesn’t like it. How is she supposed to cope with this when the one person she’d normally turn to is the culprit stressor?

“Emma–” He calls out to her, this time his voice much more soothing than it had been before. He’d pushed her too far– he can tell by the way she visibly starts to deteriorate. Her own chaotic thoughts flood his mind as she seems unable to keep him out. She keeps seeing Adam’s face and then everything goes blank. This has become fairly routine, but the voices which have so long plagued her mind– so inconsistent and contradictory are as a radio turned up to full volume. “Emma look at me–” He tries again, even as her eyes refuse to open. “Come on– don’t get lost on me.”

She simply shakes her head vigorously, still clinging to it with her hands. He knows if he doesn’t do something soon, she’s going to shut down. He’s only done it a handful of times when things have gotten really bad for her. It takes a lot of strength, not to mention the energy it takes from him is enough to cause him to black out. He doesn’t care if he falls where he stands if only to quiet the storm that’s begun to wreak havoc on her mind again. He reaches out and lays his hands over hers, closing his own eyes and focusing on her mind. There’s a loud screaming that’s begun; causing him to flinch at the sound of such pain coming from her. Slowly he starts pushing out all the extra noise, canceling it with his own frequency. This time he speaks to her in her mind rather than using his voice aloud.

‘Emma– its gonna be okay. Just focus on my voice. Nothing else matters. Just follow my voice out. You’re gonna be okay.’ He begins streaming without pause for fear that she get lost again. The screaming continues. ‘I’m sorry I made you upset– its okay if you don’t feel the same just please come back to me.’ He practically begs his own head beginning to feel the pressure of this ability he’d yet to concur. Slowly but surely, he can feel her thoughts slowing and evening out; then all at once the screaming subsides. ‘Just open your eyes for me okay?’ He’s vaguely aware of liquid running over his upper lip but ignores it. ‘Open your eyes.’

Her eyes snap open just as he starts to waver in front of her. She rushes to put herself under his weight, holding him up as his own eyes barely open sleepily. “I told you not to do that anymore.” She scolds him quietly if for no other reason than to mask her own concern.

He just sort of lazily smiles at her through his still half shut eyes. “I think I need to lie down.”

“You think?” She scoffs. She’d done her fair share of physical training in the time she’d lived with Bobby and the Winchesters. They’d called it necessity while she’d called it excessive. Still, the extra strength it affords her now is just that– necessary. She knows that they’ll both end up falling if she tries to get him down the stairs to the couch but doesn’t want to wake up Sam who everyone knew could sleep through a hurricane. “Come on.” She urges, beginning to walk him over to her own bed.

As if realizing in a delayed reaction, Jude protests. “No no no– I’ll be fine. I’m not taking your bed. You have enough trouble sleeping as it is.” He wags his head in defiance trying to pull her back in the direction toward her bedroom door.

“Okay we get it Jude– you’ve already earned sainthood– you don’t need to add the qualification of martyrdom.” She winces, most of his weight causing her to weaken.

He pushes out a laugh as if drunk from the telepathic high of what he’d just done. “I don’t deserve that compliment.” He slurs.

“Damn it Judah! I will drop you right now.” She warns, her voice strained as she tries to drag him toward the bed again.

So maybe it hadn’t occurred to him until now that she’s basically doing eighty-five percent of the work to keep him upright. He finally gives up trying to fight her and allows her to help him navigate to the bed. “But where are you going to sleep?” It really does come from a place of concern. He’s not just trying to be difficult. That couch was lethal on anyone’s back.

“Well now Jude– that’s the beauty of a queen sized bed–” She pauses, leaning him against the side and giving a good shove to his torso. This elicits a low groan from him as he manages to move onto the mattress. “It sleeps two.” She finishes as she catches her own breath.

He practically crawls helplessly to not take up more than half of the space. His mind ceases to function more with every passing second. He might not even be so aware of her presence if he weren’t so tuned into her mind now a peaceful place he just wants to hide in.

Emma huffs a laugh, shaking her head at the sight. Again, she finds herself wondering how its possible that they’d traded roles. When he finally settles into one side of the mattress she steps to the foot of the bed. She unlaces his boots and begins prying them off of his feet– something she’d ample practice at with one Dean Winchester. She knows it can’t possibly be comfortable to sleep in jeans but she’s worried about startling him to try to get them off. That and he might not care now– but when he woke up in the morning it might be cause for more awkwardness. She shakes her head again. “Nope. Not happening.”

She walks around the room, turning off the lights and closing the door. Whether Jude was in her room or not– she hated sleeping with the door open. As if it provided one more barrier between herself and the demons that often attacked her. She sighs, climbing onto the bed and just lying in front of him for a minute. She’s sure he’s already long since gone under for the night so she sees no harm in brushing the the shaggy blonde hair from over his eyes.

His hand abruptly reaches up to clutch hers, causing her to take a sharp breath in. Her heart pounds as she waits for an explanation to the sudden reaction. Leave it to him to prove her wrong even if he was more than half asleep. His hand tightens around hers, bringing it to his chest. He lets it rest just over his heart which despite the exertion of the prior incident still beats strongly within him.

She purses her lips, mentally chiding him if he can even hear her anymore. The smile that comes over his face is enough evidence that the message went through. She uses the knuckles of her free hand to wipe away the blood from his nose caused by the sheer power of what he’d done for her. She wipes the smear on her sheets, long since desensitized to the sight of blood.

The last sign of any wakefulness from him is the small kiss he presses to her hand just as it moves away from his face. He knows it hadn’t been ideal– but they’d made progress. Something in him knew that things will be different now and its all he can hold onto as he falls into the deep sleep that followed such an episode. Of one thing he’s certain, he welcomes whatever dreams of her that are sure to find him before he wakes up again.