Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s been a week since JC had passed.

Roi came back a few days after, showing up at the entrance of the Divine Lounge and asking for Teala. Colleen brought him in straight away, embracing him and dragging him inside, leading him to Teala’s room. There, Teala froze at the sight of him, before tackling him and bring him into a crushing hug. She began crying on spot and muttered a few thank you’s to Colleen, rocking Roi in her arms as they hold each other tight. She had been scared half to death, terrified that he won’t come back, or that he’d be dead at their doorstep the next day. Having him here, alive and trembling as she keeps her arms wrapped around him, was enough to cause her heart to stop beating before leaping out of her chest in pure relief.

They have each other. Things are far from okay, but maybe if they walk this dangerous path together, hand in hand, then it will be. Not right now, and not tomorrow, not even next month, but it will be.

Matthew’s birthday had passed recently.

Rosanna remembered asking him when they were still living in the cabins at some point, and now it’s that time of November and Matthew hadn’t been seen outside of his room. He was quiet during that first week, and even more so when Roi came back, but this was the first time he had ever barricaded himself from the rest of the team. Maybe he felt like his life wasn’t worth being celebrated. Maybe he still feels responsible for the death of JC. Rosanna wanted to talk to him, tell him that it’s no one's fault, that bad things happen no matter what, that everything is not in his control and that he just has to accept that.

But she didn’t want to push. So instead, she spent the day with Safiya, researching to keep her mind off of recent events. There’s been a huge spike in demonic and angelic activity, which was to be expected with everything that happened. It was hard, pushing aside her gut instinct to break down his door and just hug him, but he wanted space. He needed space. He’d come around eventually.

Manny, Nikita and Joey had gone on a hunt.

They got fed up with being cooped up in the Divine Lounge for so long. Nikita especially sought the thrill of the hunt, having shot down the disaster demon they had been tracking as soon as it was in her line of sight. On the outside, it looked like Nikita didn’t give a single damn about JC, but Manny knows all too well that this is just her way of coping. She’s been hurt too, just like everyone else. Joey has been feeling guilty as well, at some point in the week apologising to every single team member individually. He even went to JC’s burial that was tucked away in the side of the mountain, hidden away from the rest of the world. Manny thought that they wouldn’t get the chance to use it, he’d been so sure. Now, knowing that space in the small plot of land reserved for their corpses has been filled ever so slightly diminished some hope he had.

But Nikita is alive. Joey is alive. Matthew, Rosanna and Safiya are alive. Colleen, Teala and Roi are alive. And that means hope is alive. As long as they have hope then they still have a chance at saving the world from the Carnival Master.

It’s been another week, and Roi found Matthew staring at JC’s grave silently mourning him.

It was early in the morning, the sun’s rays peeking through from behind the mountain. The sunlight reflected off the head of JC’s angel headstone, scattering light around it like a halo. Matthew was just standing there wordlessly, not daring to utter a single word in the fear that he’ll just end up on the ground, hands in head, a sobbing, pathetic mess. That’s when Roi snuck up behind him. Upon seeing his face Matthew instantly became fidgety, running his hands through his hair like he normally does when anxious. He was expecting to face the full-on blunt force of Roi’s fury, expecting him to shout, maybe throw a punch in his general direction, remind him of what he did.

What he didn’t expect, however, was him to throw his arms around his neck and pull him close, muttering ‘it’s okay’ to him. They haven’t spoken in nearly three weeks, and now having him here, hugging him, being the friends they used to be was overwhelming enough to bring tears to his eyes. He hesitantly returned the hug, sniffling as they silently make up. Matthew had thought he had lost another friend, they both did, but now it’s clear that they haven’t. And now, he thinks he’s ready to start integrating himself back into the lives of the rest of his team. He owes Rosanna an apology for not being there for her.

A day after, Mortimer appears at the front entrance, asking for permission to enter their underground bunker. Calliope reluctantly let him in, gathering everyone in the main chamber for a team discussion.

“Tell us how this all works, “ Nikita demands, not rudely, but not exactly kindly either. She’s just sick of waiting and wants to get shit done.

Mortimer nods. “Millions of centuries ago, there were two gods-”

“Two gods?” Teala interrupts in disbelief. In Christianity, there’s only supposed to be one god only. Where the hell was this second god?

“Yes, “ Mortimer says, slightly annoyed at being spoken over. “There were two gods. I’ll explain that in a second. They ruled over existence in harmony, the god that you know, my father, being Light and the other being Darkness. They balanced each other out perfectly. But then my father decided to create the universe, and in that universe, life. First, it was us angels then you humans, our sole purpose being to protect and serve you. The other god, being the embodiment of darkness, hated my father’s creation so much he sought to destroy it. They fought for a long time, the First Cosmic War, until finally, we won, shattering him into billions of fragments. We know him as the Cursed God. He is no longer alive, however, his influence still lives on. He corrupted our second eldest, Lucifer, and still continues on as the evil that plagues you humans.”

“Holy shit…” Is all Manny can say. His brain can’t even begin to comprehend what he’s being told. So there were two gods and one of them had it out for humans just because he felt like it? And he’s kind of the source of all evil in his world, including the freakin’ devil?

Mortimer glances at everyone’s shocked expression and sighs. “It doesn’t end there. Using the leftover power of the Cursed God, Lucifer created a mask and left it on the Earth for humans to find. We weren’t aware of his creation, and some human man found it and decided to wear it. He was corrupted with the Cursed God’s power and threatened all of existence so we killed him, but we were unprepared. We didn’t know that the mask was the source of his power before it slipped away from us. Centuries later, it popped back up again, it’s new wearer being the leader of a travelling carnival. He seemed to be much stronger than the previous wearer, hence leading to the Second Cosmic War. You’d be surprised at how recent it was. During the war, the wearer of the mask had come to be known as the Carnival Master.”

“Wait.” Everyone diverts their attention to Colleen. “Why didn’t you tell us all this before?”

“I apologise. I’m not necessarily allowed to tell humans these things. You’re lucky I’m giving you guys the simplified version.” Mortimer continues with his story. “Anyway, the Carnival Master created these special demons called lieutenants. They all hold their own unique power and have varying levels of strength. The demon you just faced, High Tower, was one of those lieutenants. Unfortunately, though, she’s a rather weak lieutenant. They only get stronger from here.”

“How many of these lieutenants were released?” Safiya inquires.

“I don’t know. A couple hundred?”

The whole room goes silent.

“Regardless, “ Mortimer presses on. “We have to take them down. You see, when we won the war, we weren’t able to kill him. He locked himself in a small chamber in Hell to save himself and it worked. The only problem was that my older brothers Michael, Gabriel and Uriel used that against him and locked him inside. But the Carnival Master saw something like this coming and had a backup plan. When he created this chamber he designed it so that if a lieutenant breaks their designated seal, then the Carnival Master is released.”

Matthew runs a hand through his hair, clearly stressed. “And just how many seals are there?”

“Thousands - one for each lieutenant created, “ Mortimer replies. “But it only takes one seal to be broken for the Carnival Master to be released.”

“Only one?” Joey roars, his eyes so wide they might burst out of his socket.

“Only one.”

At this point, Calliope steps forward. “And what are the angels doing about this?”

“Most of my brothers and sisters are tracking down and killing lieutenants as we speak. We’ve already killed twelve in these passing weeks and are hot on the trail of a dozen others. Some of these lieutenants seem to be running wild while others seem to have a leader. But what concerns me the most is…”

Calliope raises an eyebrow. “Is…?”

The angel lets out another shaky sigh. “Michael and Gabriel are nowhere to be seen. No one has any clue as to where they might be. They didn’t even give us any notice they just… Vanished.”

“So what you’re telling us is that the lieutenants we are facing now are only going to be stronger than the last, there only needs to be one seal broken for the Carnival Master to return and bring along the apocalypse, and that two archangels are currently M.I.A?” Roi summarises, fists clenched at his sides.

“Yes.”

Colleen looks towards Joey and Calliope. “What are the Society Against Evil doing?”

“Everything they can, “ Joey explains. “They’re pretty preoccupied at the moment. Jael and Ryu are out on a hunt for a crossroads demon. Calliope was the only one that could make it here.”

“I can see that everything is going well, “ Matthew sarcastically remarks. Because what could be better than archangels going missing, incredibly powerful demons and having all their resources spread thin?

Rosanna gazes up at everyone, dejection in her brown iris’. “What can we do now?”

“Track down and kill as many lieutenants as you can, “ is Mortimer’s response, taking a good look at every one. “But don’t get yourself killed, got that? Resurrection isn’t actually something a regular angel can pull off. Only the archangels can. We can’t let the Carnival Master rise.”

The petite hunter nods her head. Find and kill the lieutenants. Prevent the Carnival Master from rising. Don’t die while you’re at it. Simple enough. She can do that. She’s a fighter, a strong little muffin. She may be small but she has real muscle from all the baking she does.

“I will fight by your side. I will protect and heal you whenever you need me. If you require my assistance and I’m not there, just pray to me. I will always answer when you call, “ Mortimer says to the group, his eyes earnest and peering into the very souls of each individual here. “If anything happens to me, one of my most trusted brothers or sisters will come to inform you. They will continue from where I left off to aid you.”

“Don’t say that.”

Everyone turns their head to gaze at Calliope who’s glaring daggers at Mortimer. “Don’t you dare say that as if you aren’t going to live through this. Everyone will survive, I’ll make damn sure of that.” She then shifts her gaze over to Roi and Matthew. “It won’t happen again.”

A heaviness falls over the shoulders of everyone in the room at the reminder of the deceased team member. JC will always be a reminder of what will happen if they’re not careful enough if they dive headfirst into danger. JC will remain to be their greatest failure, the cost of reckless behaviour. JC will always be seen as a martyr for their cause, the price of trying to achieve peace. He was a saint dying for their cause, God bless his soul. At least he’s resting in heaven, hopefully being able to see Kian’s face again in the afterlife.

Joey takes a step forward. “That settles it then. We can’t just give up here. If we do, JC would have died in vain. We have to stop the apocalypse no matter what. So, is there anyone that wants to back out?”

“Who the hell do you think I am?” Nikita perks up, a wide, devilish grin on her face. “Sign me the hell up.”

“Oh, don’t think you can get rid of me, bitch, “ Manny playfully elbows her side, Nikita retaliating by shoving him back lightly.

There’s an amused smile dancing on Safiya’s lips. “And miss out on my chance to live in the 70s? I think I’ll be staying a little while longer.”

“Wherever Safiya’s going, I’m going with her!” Rosanna has to be the cutest-deadliest thing on this planet.

Matthew shoves his hands in his pockets smirking. “I would go because, y’know, there’s no Diet Coke in the 70s. But I think I can wait a little while longer.”

Roi folds his arms wearing a soft, warm and content expression. “For Alex and JC.”

“Yeah, for Alex and JC, “ Teala agrees.

Joey nervously glances at Colleen who he fears will leave him just like he selfishly left her, but instead, she nods her head at him smiling. “Someone here has to keep you from dying.”

This is it then. Round two of monster hunting. He fist-bumps the air in excitement. “Let’s hunt some demons!”

✞✟✞✟✞✟✞✟✞

The bartender can’t say he really likes this job. It’d be better if he didn’t end up working in a crappy bar such as this one. The amount of times a fight has broken out here is astronomical, way too many for him to keep track of. Most of the gentlemen and few women here are nice blocks, but it’s always the few rotten eggs that stand out the most.

He’s cleaning a glass with his white cloth, carefully rubbing inside the glass when he can’t help but overhear a man talking from the far end of the bar.

“Hey babe, let's say we have some fun tonight.” His tone is deep and gruff, though that’s not actually his real voice. The bartender is familiar with this man since he’s a regular. He always puts on the voice when he’s…

“Listen, I have a boyfriend, okay?”

When he’s trying to sleep with other women. It’s honestly disgusting, the way he continues to pressure them then calling them a prude if they end up walking away.

The man leans closer and is practically drooling all over this poor woman. “Aww, really? Why don’t you tell me all about him? He sounds like a real charmer if he managed to get with a chick as hot as you.”

“His name is Benjamin, “ She replies, scooting away from him. “And I’m really not interested in creeps like you.”

“What did you call me you little bitch?” He snares, standing up and towering over the woman.

Oh no. Not again. The bartender sets down his glass and cloth, making his way over to the two. He should’ve intervened earlier and now hates himself for it. This woman could get hurt because of him. In fact, he should have reported that man ages ago. He’s given him the slip away to many times. Today is the last straw.

“Listen, sir, “ the bartender starts, drawing the attention of the two. “If you don’t leave right now I’m calling the police.”

The other man looks scandalised. “Call the police? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Sir, you’re harassing this lady, “ the bartender says as if it weren’t obvious. “Leave. I won’t ask again.”

“You can’t just make me leave. I have rights.” God, he’s as stubborn as a mule. If only idiots like him just shut his mouth for once then maybe the world would be a better place.

“Sir-”

The woman holds her hand out, hushing the bartender. “Let me handle this.”

The bartender opens his mouth to question her, but immediately shuts up when he sees literal fangs extend from her gums. She blinks and now suddenly her eyes are completely yellow with slits like a snake. She hisses at the man, who’s shuffling away wide-eyed, confused but mostly terrified and shouting nonsense. She lunges towards him, grabbing him by the back of the end, yanking his hair down to get a clear view of his neck and sinks her teeth, ripping out his throat. With a gurgling scream, he convulses as the venom hits his weakened system, causing him to heave before falling limp against her, his blood staining her fur coat.

Everyone in the bar is kicking and screaming, shoving each other out of the bar to escape the snake-like woman. The bartender is frozen in place, beads of sweat rolling down his temple as he struggles to process the sight in front of him. That woman just ripped a man’s throat out with her teeth.

The woman smirks at the bartender, crimson smearing the lower half of her face. She dips her hand inside her fur coat and slips out a dollar note, sliding it to him with her bloody hands leaving red fingerprints. She then turns to the corpse of the man, sneering at him as her iris’ contract at the mere sight of him.

“The name’s Cindy and no, you can’t have my phone number. I’m taken.”

Chapter Text

Matthew gently knocks on Roi and Teala’s room, standing outside patiently with his hands stuffed in his pockets. The two didn’t originally share a room together, Teala having a room to herself and Roi leaving an extra space for JC when-- if he returned. But he’s not, and there was an empty void in his room that served as yet another reminder. Teala, howbeit, didn’t want him going to sleep by his lonesome, so she moved in with him bringing her own bed and clothing (moving the bed with the help of Manny, of course).

The door opens, revealing a rather groggy Teala. She’s still in her pajamas and her black, wavy hair is an absolute mess. She yawns. “Matt? Jesus, it’s like, six in the morning, what is it?”

“Sorry for waking you up.” Sometimes he forgets that not everyone wakes up in the middle of the night because of nightmares and can’t go back to sleep afterwards. It really does be like that sometimes. “I’ve just been thinking… While searching for lieutenants I found a case - vampires I’m pretty sure - and it kinda gave me an idea. What if we were to split up in two teams? One stays in here and does research and all the nerd stuff, while the other goes out and covers some ground?”

Teala rubs the sleep out of her eyes. “Huh, that… Doesn’t sound like a bad idea.” She looks back into her room, most likely at Roi, then turns back to him. “You said you have a case?”

“Yeah. I don’t think it’s lieutenants though. Probably vampires.”

Teala’s gaze hardens on him, thinking intently about something, but what Matthew can’t say. He hates to admit it but he doesn’t really know her well. Even if it’s been around three months there are still so many mysteries, and that goes for Manny, Nikita and Colleen as well. Joey too. The only people he’s really hung out with is Rosanna and Safiya, Roi, and JC. Maybe he should go hunt with them sometime. Because there’s no better bonding exercise then risking your life decapitating vampires with a bunch of other more experienced hunters.

“Okay, “ she finally says, though her focus doesn’t seem to be quite here, if that makes sense. Not in the present, but stuck in the past. He’s seen that look many times when looking in the mirror on bad days. “I’m sure we can go in about an hour. I just need to wake Roi and some of the others up and pack our stuff.” She’s about to disappear behind her door but she freezes, then slowly turns back at Matthew one last time. “You wanna join in on the fun?”

He thinks back to the first hunt he’s ever went on, the one where he had to fight that evil spirit and got slammed into a wall, and thinks about just how sore he was the day after. “Sounds like I could totally lose my arm. I’m in.”

She beams at him. “Great.”

The door closes and Matthew finds himself subconsciously moving towards the kitchen - the nearest source of caffeine. Too bad it isn’t Diet Coke though - and overhears Teala shouting ‘wake up, sleepyhead’ at a now screaming Roi. He smirks to himself. Those two so like each other. It’s unbelievably obvious. Why they just haven’t kissed yet in beyond Matthew.

Making his way down the hallway, he stops in front of Rosanna and Safiya’s room. The door is still closed and the lights seem to be off, probably sleeping. He admitted to wanting to get to know the rest of the team better, and don’t get him wrong, he wants too. And he will. But what if one day he loses Rosanna and Safiya too? It’s a dark thought, but a very possible one too. He lost his wife and old friends, and now recently JC. He looks down at the silver ring on his finger and brings that hand close to his chest.

He won’t forget her. And he won’t forget them too.

✞✟✞✟✞✟✞✟✞

As soon as he slides out of the van and plants his feet on the concrete ground, Nikita is already pointing a finger at him. “Remember, go for the head.”

“Just because I’ve never hunted vampires before, doesn’t mean I don’t know their weaknesses, “ Matthew rebuttals, folding his arms with a smirk. “It’s kinda my job to know these things now.”

“That’s what they all say.”

Manny shoots Nikita a curious look. “Nikita, we’ve literally never gone out on a hunt with an amateur before. No one ever says that-”

“Manny, sweetie, shut up.”

He rolls her eyes at her and moves towards the back of the van while Teala and Roi make their way to them from the driver’s and passenger’s seat, looking around the small, empty space they’ve parked in away from the eyes of the town’s residents. They don’t want anyone discovering the small arsonal that they have in the back.

Roi strides up to Matthew, looking towards the direction of the centre of the town. “So where are the vamps?”

Matthew recalls all the information he had gathered last night. He woke up and couldn’t fall asleep so he decided to be productive. Sleep deprivation doesn’t really affect him anymore, so no, he isn’t all that tired. Well, he doesn’t feel tired. He’s sure his body is ready to give out any second now. He had wrote everything relevant to the case in a notebook and brought it with him, as well as everything he knew about vampires near the same area. He’s thinking about writing down every hunt he’s been on and taking individuals notes about it after he’s finished hunting. He reckons it’d be a great way to learn faster. “The nest should be on the west side of town, since that’s where all the killings are occurring.”

“And where are we now?” Teala inquires, coming up on the left side of Roi.

“North west.” He made sure to memorise a very simplified map in his mind. “Shouldn’t be too far - walking distance in fact. In some abandoned warehouses on the outskirts.”

Nikita audibly sighs from behind him. “Really? It’s always abandoned warehouses. Can’t they get a little bit more creative to make this more interesting?”

“Vampires hate us, “ Manny says while sorting through something in the back of the van. “Their jobs are to make our lives miserable.”

So, they prepare, load their guns, make sure their machete’s are sharp. Matthew holds it by the handle and runs a finger gently along the smooth, cold surface of the blade. He can see his reflection in it, fuzzy, but visible nonetheless. He brings his finger to the tip and pokes his finger, not hard enough to draw blood, but just enough to feel the sting. He readjusts his grip, using two hands to really get a feel for the weapon. He wants Safiya by his side to show him the best way to handle it, but he guesses asking Roi will do. It just feels weird to be around him. They’ve made up since then, knowing that JC’s death isn’t anyone's fault, but he feels this disconnection that wasn’t there before. Things have changed. Roi acts differently around Matthew and Matthew acts differently around Roi. The comfortableness the two shared just isn’t there anymore.

They make their way over, Matthew giving a basic overview of the case one last time just to clear up any misconceptions. “So pretty much, two or three days ago, someone was murdered in a bar. They said the attacker was a woman but get this; the woman apparently had fangs and ripped out the man’s throat.”

“Wait.” Nikita halts. “You’re saying that this vampire just straight up murdered some poor bastard right in the middle of a bar in front of everyone?”

Matthew shrugged. “Yeah. The bartender said he saw everything. He described this woman like a vampire. Maybe they wanted to put on a display? Show everyone that they’re not afraid to get a little bold.”

“Vampires would never do that, “ Manny remarks. “They’re too cowardly to do something so stupid. They do everything they can to cover their tracks from hunters.”

He hums, thinking over what Manny said. Something about this case if off and it scares him. Already is he diving head first into danger and he doesn’t even know if they’re fighting regular vampires. But he has Manny and Nikita, Roi and Teala with him, so he should be fine. He has backup. Everything will be okay. He must still be shaken from JC’s death, seeing his body on the altar and bleeding profusely. It’s an image that will continue to haunt him, just like the image of Stephanie’s body, head resting against the headboard, jaw slack, blood running down her chin and eyes glazed over. He touches the scar on his left brow and remembers how close to death he was as well. He was in the hospital for weeks, in a stable condition, but feeling so so depressed.

“We’re not far now.” And not far they were. The warehouses where visible from where they were, the roofs peeking out from behind a few buildings. They make their way over and sneak along the side of the warehouse, finding a side entrance and Roi, being the one leading, breaking the lock and opening the door slightly. He peers inside, looking around before gesturing to the rest that it’s safe to enter. He goes in first, Teala following suit, Matthew in the middle, Nikita, then Manny at the very back, closing the door behind him. It’s dark as expected, since no one would be paying for power for an abandoned warehouse of this scale, and that vampires like the dark. They don’t burn, which Matthew was disappointed to hear, but they are nocturnal, hence why they went in during the day.

They find the main storage chamber and slide in soundlessly, eyes darting around in the darkness for any sign of movement. None yet. The place doesn’t even look like it’s inhabited by anything, not even rats, but that’s kind of the point - to be as inconspicuous as possible. Roi stops and turns around to face the group, eyes scanning each present member. “We should split up into two teams. Teala, with me. Manny, Nikita, Matthew, you three head off to the second floor. No one goes alone under any circumstances, got it?”

They all nod.

“Good. Let’s head out.”

Matthew follows Manny and Nikita up metal stairs, glancing over his shoulder back at the other two. Something feels wrong. This whole thing feels wrong. He’s never been on a vampire hunt before but something is amiss or out of place. Matthew can’t put his finger on it but he’s sure it’s something. He knows Manny feels it too, and if he does then probably so does Nikita since those two are practically on the same wavelength.

They reach the top of the staircase and walk on the railing that lines the walls of the warehouse and form bridges from one side to another. He looks down then immediately regrets it, seeing how high up he is. One shove and he can go tumbling over to his death. He tries to make sure his heels don’t click loudly against the steel treading lightly, though Manny and Nikita make it look so easy. He wonders just how long they’ve been hunters for, if their situation was like his own and they found out later in life or if they knew from the start.

It’s only been about two minutes though it feels like two hours, walking in complete silence, hearing, feeling for any life-- or unlife? They’re vampires so they’re technically dead. If he’s being honest with himself, he’s only thinking up random thoughts like this because he’s trying to distract himself from the inevitable danger. Hey, irrational, funny thoughts make everything better, even when they don’t, because they have to. Otherwise, he would have surely gone insane long ago.

The silence stretches on for another minute. Then another minute. Then another minute. Then another-

“ROI!”

A bellowing, inhuman snarl echoes throughout the warehouse, mixed in with Teala’s frantic screaming. Manny and Nikita pivot on their heels, running past Matthew at an incredible speed. Matthew runs after them, but his stubby legs can only move so fast. By the time he’s reach the bottom of the staircase, the two are already over one hundred feet ahead of him, reminding him that he definitely needs to hit the gym more often if he wants to be fighting monsters. There’s more yelling from behind a huge shelf that’s five times taller than him, then Teala appears, shaking and dragging Roi’s unconscious form along the ground.

Matthew bolts towards her, falling to the ground and hitting his knees against concrete though he ignores the pain. He assesses Roi’s condition, feeling his pulse, looking over his body for any visible wounds but find none. He shoots a look over to Teala who’s starting to cry, steady tears rolling down her cheeks as she profusely apologises to him.

“Teala, what happened?” He’s speaking so fast he’s not even sure Teala understood, but if she didn’t she tells him anyway.

“I don’t know we were just-- we were just looking around t-then-- then it appeared and sprayed some weird green gas in his face and now he’s--”

“Teala, calm down.” Matthew grips her shoulder to try and ease her panic. “Who’s ‘it’?”

There’s another loud growl, Matthew turning his head in the direction it came from only to catch view of some kind of monster towering over Manny and Nikita. It has a reasonably sized torso but long, dangling arms and legs that could no way hold that thing up but, because it’s a supernatural creature, do.

Matthew’s eyes widen and feels the adrenaline hit his veins, hoisting Roi from one end and commanding Teala she lift the other. They carry him out the door they broke in through, rushing back to the van in no time and lay him on the back seat. Matthew checks over his vitals again. Still alive. His breathing. Steady, doesn’t seem to by dying or anything. No blood. Bruising from being hit in the head. Matthew opens one of his closed eyes and--

Oh. That isn’t normal.

His pupils are completely dilated. Matthew reaches into the back and finds a torch, rushes back inside and shines it in his eye.

No response. His eyes stay dilated.

Matthew furrows his eyebrows. “It’s like he’s… brain-dead almost.”

“Brain-dead?” Tears begin glazing over her eyes all over again.

“Almost. I don’t think he actually is. More like in deep sleep. Very deep sleep.” He gazes back at the direction of the warehouse. “Stay here. I’m going after Manny and Nikita. Make sure he stays in a stable condition, okay?”

Teala simply nods her head at him.

He doesn’t waste anymore time. He rushes off back to the warehouse, feeling the burning sensation in his lungs and cursing the fact that he’s so unfit. Bursting through the door, he runs towards the sound of clanging metal and gurgled roaring. He makes a sharp turn, coming just in time to see Manny being held by the throat, the creature’s arms wrapped around his neck. Manny claws at its arms, eyes screwed shut and teeth gritted. Green gas drifts up from the corner of the creatures mouth before it opens, the gas spraying Manny directly in the face. Nikita, who’s just now only lifting herself off the ground, raises her gun and shoots the thing in the face, stunning it and causing it to drop Manny. Nikita makes a b-line over to him, standing in front protectively while unloading her entire clip into the monster’s chest.

Matthew takes the handgun from his holster and aims at it’s twisted, grotesque face. “Hey, tentacle arms!” The monster turns its head to him. “Bet you can’t catch me!”

It snarls at him at the exact same time Nikita scoffs. “Tentacle arms? Really?”

Matthew fires and hits its jaw, the monster staggering back and howling in pain. Nikita uses this chance to haul Manny out the way, dragging his body out of the creature’s sight. It makes a move towards them, but Matthew fires another bullet hitting it square in the shoulder.

“Oh, no you don’t.” He waves his hands up in the air, trying to be as annoying as possible. “At least I don’t have a snout as a nose, unlike you, ugly!”

It whimpers faintly, and for a real second, Matthew is convinced he actually hurt its feelings. “Wait, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you could understand me--”

An arm comes swinging on the right side of Matthew, the hunter ducking just in time, feelling the wind on his head as the arm rushes by. He staggeres backwards, lifting his gun and shooting its torso. It only growls in rage, marching forwards to him. Okay. Okay. Torso shots seem to have to effect. He spins and runs away, ducking behind a pillar for cover and peering over briefly to shoot. He aims for the head but misses, muttering a curse under his breath and crawling to his feet to run away.

He feels something coil around his ankle, and now his world is spinning. He hits the ground, chin first, the unpleasant coppery flavour of blood dancing on his tongue. He groans, hands pushing against the floor to lift him up, but suddenly he’s being dragged backwards. He claws at the pillar, but there’s nothing for his fingers to grip. He’s raised off the group, dangling upside down and is met face to face with the monster. Now having a clear view on its face it’s so close to being human, having two eyes, a mouth, and a relatively messed up nose, but a nose nonetheless.

It scowls at him, anger burning it its eyes. “You think you’re so funny?” Its voice is deep, gruff and sounds like it’s gurgling on water. “I’ll show you something funny.”

His words don’t even register, Matthew too stunned at the fact that this thing can not only understand him, but talk. Green gas begins to leak from the corners of its mouth again, eyes blinking a bright yellow hue. Matthew sucks in a lungful of fresh air and holds it’s breath attempting to protect himself, but the monster only seems amused by his antics. It opens his mouth, green filling Matthew’s vision entirely as his nostrils, throat and lungs burn, a haziness falling apon him. He coughs and he sputtters, but everything is futile. He feels his consiousness slipping away. He’s dropped to the floor, but somehow doesn’t feel the impact of his shoulder slamming against the ground. It’s as if he were floating. He tries to get his arms and legs to move but they lay there, unmoving, just useless muscles attached to his body.

As his gaze drifts up, he’s barely able to make out the blurry figure of someone standing next to the monster. He tries to speak but the only sound that leaves his mouth is a pathetic whimper. He tries to keep his eyes open, but it’s virtually impossible for him, like someone draped a thick woollen blanket over him. His eyes close, vision going dark, one sense shutting down after the other. There’s the sound of a woman laughing, mixed in with a familiar voice shouting.

His ears shut down and the world around him melts away, the last thing his ears picking up being the hiss of a snake.

Chapter Text

Nikita stands in front of Matthew’s unconscious form, gun out and eyes flickering with ice-cold rage. It’s two monsters against one hunter, but she doesn’t give a single damn. That thing just took down her best friend, and Roi and now Matthew. And now it has a side bitch too. How cute.

“You two better get the fuck out of here before I pop a cap in your asses.” Nikita can take them. She’s certainly angry enough to hurtle that fake bitch right at her hideous looking boyfriend. And damn is he ugly. She must have really low standards to settle for someone like him.

“You’re asking us to leave?” The woman hisses, her snake eyes piercing in the dim light of the warehouse. ‘You’re the one trespassing on our territory.”

“And you’re the one killing people left and right, “ Nikita snaps. She’s not dealing with this bullshit. Not today.

The snake-eyed woman steps forward, and Nikita instinctually begins to tighten her finger on the trigger. “I’m just looking for something. They simply got in my way.”

Looking for something? Of course. Of fucking course. “You’re one of those lieutenants, aren’t you?”

“My, my, well aren’t you the clever one?”

“Well, it’s kinda his job to know shit.” She gestures to Matthew. “But, y’know, I’m pretty smart myself.” She steels her gaze, that same iciness now directed specifically at the snake-eyed lieutenant. “Now why don’t you help a girl out and tell me how to fix him before I pry that cheap-ass fur coat off your corpse and sell it on eBay.”

This time the other tall monster steps forward, growing at Nikita and ready to lunge at her.

The snake-eyed woman places a hand in front of him. “It’s alright, Benji. She can’t do anything to us… I don’t even know what an ‘eBay’ is.”

“We should just kill her now, ” the monster sneers, a few feet away from trying to tear Nikita to little bits, the snake-eyed woman being the only thing stopping him. The hunter fixates her aim on the tall monster, ‘Benji’ as the snake-eyed woman calls him, trying to think of a way to get herself and Matthew out of this mess.

An engine rumbles. That’s all she hears before a van comes tearing through the metal doors of the warehouse, one light completely busted, windscreen cracked, rear-view mirror twisted at an odd angle and the hood completely busted and scratched. At the driver's seat is Teala, expression bewildered with stray strands of black hair in her face. She mutters something under her breath and based off of the movement of her lips, it was something along the lines of ‘holy fuck how did I survive that?’. She shakes her head, winds down the window by an inch and yells at the top of her lungs. “Get inside, now!”

Nikita takes hold of Matthew’s jacket and begins dragging him at top speed. The snake-eyed woman hisses and charges, hands only inches away from them until a bullet sinks into her shoulder. She screams and falls back clutching her bleeding shoulder, eyes now locked onto Teala who’s holding Roi’s handgun in her quivering palms, taking another shot at her. She misses most of them, though its enough of a distraction for Nikita to make a few more feet towards the van with Matthew. ‘Benji’ gently wraps an arm around the snake-eyed woman’s waste and hoists her up on her feet, hollering out curses at them in anger.

Nikita slides open the van door and with all her might, pushes Matthew’s body onto the back seat where the others have been haphazardly seatbelted in the seats. “Really Teala? You could have killed them.”

“Now is not the time to be a bitch, Nikita.” She takes another shot before gasping. “HolyshitNikitalookout!”

“Bitch, what did you just say--” A leathery, long arm snakes its way around Nikita’s left bicep and harshly tugs her backwards, the hunter using that same hand to grip onto the side of the van door to keep her from slipping. She spins one-eighty to face ‘Benji’, his sunken yellow eyes trained onto her. Up close the monster is somehow even uglier, especially now that he’s touching her. She grits her teeth and aims at his face, doing exactly what Matthew did before he was knocked out and shoots him in the jaw. He lets out an ear-piercing screaming, dropping his tight grip on Nikita and reaching for his face. Nikita dives into the backseat, slamming the door shut and yelling “HIT IT, TEALA”, watching ‘Benji’ slowly rise up and preparing to strike again.

Teala hits the gas so hard she feels pain jolt up her leg, cursing but keeping her foot placed there as she reverses out of the warehouse. Spinning around, she pushes the gear stick forward and swiftly takes off, engine roaring as she drives at top speed. Nikita lifts herself up and peers through the back window to gaze back at the warehouse, flipping the two off at a distance.

Oh, she is so getting her hands on that snake’s fur coat.

✞✟✞✟✞✟✞✟✞

Teala must have broken about thirty traffic laws to reach the Divine Lounge on time. One of the biggest downsides to being in the 70s is the fact that iPhones aren’t a thing yet. She had no way of calling Safiya or Rosanna, maybe Colleen or Joey, hell, even Calliope, about the fact that she has three unconscious idiots in the back who got a face full of probably toxic bright green gas.

She’s still impressed that Nikita somehow managed to drag Matthew’s ass out of that shithole of a warehouse before that thing could harm him any further. He is, however, in a similar state that Manny and Roi are in, both in deep sleep and, while she didn’t have time to check, no doubt his pupils are dilated too. Nikita was yelling at them in the back, shaking Manny and even slapping him across the face to see if she could get him to wake up, but there was nothing. Not even the slightest response to being backhanded.

When they arrived at the Divine Lounge, Teala immediately leapt out of her seat, opening the secret entry and tumbling inside while Nikita stays behind to make use they keep breathing. Seconds later the whole team is out, carrying them inside and laying their bodies on three beds Mortimer, Calliope and Joey hastily had set up. Now, they all gather around them, Mortimer checking their bodies for wounds.

“They’re not injured, not physically at least.” He takes a step back and circles around them, stopping in front of Matthew to place a palm on his forehead. He closes his eyes, feeling his psyche for a few moments before his eyebrows furrow. “He’s just… sleeping.”

“Well bitch, if they’re just sleeping then wake then up, “ Nikita snaps, holding Manny’s hand in both her palms.

Mortimer stays like that for longer, keeping his eyes closed and palm gently pressing against the hunter's forehead. Nothing.

“I… I don’t understand.” Mortimer takes his hand away, a distressed expression crossing his features. “I can’t wake him up.”

“What do you mean you can’t wake him up?”

Mortimer gazes at Nikita, eyes hardened over his frustration. “It means I can’t wake them up. I’m sorry.”

“So what?” Nikita refuses to walk away from Manny’s side, but that doesn’t stop her from glaring so hard she could probably burn a hole right through Mortimer’s forehead. “Your angel mojo just, stopped working? Is that it?”

Mortimer returns her spite with a cold stare of his own. “No. This is just something beyond my powers. What the hell did you even find? What did this to them?”

Nikita drops her gaze, staring at the floor while biting her lower lip. “I don’t know. All I do know is that it was tall, with long-ass arms and legs and desperately needed plastic surgery. There was also some snake bitch that accompanied it as well.” Her face scrunches up in disgust. “She called it ‘Benji’.”

“Benji, “ Colleen echoes. “Like, as in short for Benjamin?”

“I don’t know and frankly I don’t care.” Her eyes flicker over to Manny. “I just want him to wake the hell up.”

They all stand there silent, lost in thought and so lost on what to do next. Rosanna comes over by Mortimer and kneels besides Matthew, squeezing his left hand tight. “There must be something we can do.”

The angel places his palm on Matthew’s forehead one last time, eyes screwed shut and focusing so hard beads of sweat roll down the sides of his temples. Everyone stands there in trepidation, the silence eating at them before Mortimer’s eyes flicker open.

“He’s… Dreaming.”

Teala tilts her head. “Dreaming about what?”

“That’s the thing, “ Mortimer starts, appearing just as upset as the rest of the team at the turn of events. “Usually, I have the ability to look inside dreams. Hell, I can be inside them, it’s how a lot of angels talk to humans without scaring them off. But I can’t for some reason.” His eyes fall on to every single hunter in the room before landing on Nikita. “What attacked them again?”

“The really tall man this snake-eyed woman called ‘Benji’, “ Nikita replies. “He sprayed them in the face with some sort of green gas.”

Mortimer continues, his eyes narrowing. “What colour were their eyes?”

“Yellow, “ Nikita replies slowly, realising something mid-sentence. “Shit…”

“Wait, I’m confused.” Rosanna looks up at the group, standing back on her feet. “What is so important about their eyes?”

Safiya is the one to turn and explain it to her, Teala as well since she’s new to this too. “The colour of their eyes can tell you a lot about how strong they are. You know how the killer clowns had black eyes?”

Rosanna and Teala nod.

“Well, that indicates that they’re the weakest of the bunch, simply just subordinates to carry out orders or cause disasters. There are red-eyed demons, which indicates that they’re a crossroads demon, the demons that make deals with humans for their soul. It’s mainly how people go to hell. Then, there are yellow-eyed and white-eyed. Yellow-eyed demons are much stronger than black-eyed and crossroad demons. And don’t even get me started on white-eyed demons. You rarely ever see a yellow-eyed demon walk the earth, so having two in the exact same spot - assuming that the other woman was a yellow-eyed demon as well?...” Her head turns to Nikita, who nods, confirming her hypothesis. “That’s bad. Really bad. We all need to work together if we even want to have the slightest chance of winning this fight.”

Joey seems lost in thought, his gaze on the ground in front of him. “Then we have to wake them up.” He lifts his head. “Now.”

“Yeah but how?” Colleen crosses her arms, staring at Roi who is sleep way to still for comfort, the only indication that he’s alive being the steady rise and fall of his chest. “If a literal angel can’t wake them up, what can?”

“I believe I may have a solution to this.”

They all focus their attention on Calliope who’s walking around the beds they’re lying in, stopping at the foot of their beds. “I deal with certain types of herbs in creating remedies for supernatural illnesses. If I had time then perhaps I could gather a few things back at SAE headquarters.”

“I can fly you there.” Mortimer looks back at the rest of the group. “Make sure nothing goes wrong while we’re gone. We shouldn’t be too long anyway.”

✞✟✞✟✞✟✞✟✞

“‘Shouldn’t be too long’ my ass.”

Nikita paces back and forth in the emergency care room at the foot of the three sleeping hunter’s beds. They’re literally in comas and it’s already been way too long. Calliope and Mortimer should be back by now.

Rosanna, who got a chair for herself and Teala, frowns. “They’ve only been gone for six minutes.”

“Yeah, six minutes too long.”

Rosanna sighs, looking down into her hands. “I just hope that they’re okay. Who knows what they could be dreaming right now.”

Nikita observes Manny’s face, trying to find any traces of emotions that may indicate what type of dream he’s having. But there’s none. It’s almost like, and Nikita hates to think it, dead. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t even twitch or flinch. She waved his makeup in his face and threatened to destroy it because she knows how precious it is to him, especially now that they’re in the 70s and have to find new quality makeup brands, but there was no reaction whatsoever. It’s disturbing and fucking terrifying. She’s been hunting with her mother since she was a teenager, cracking down on every supernatural piece of shit for what their kind did to her father and found him, scared, alone, and in the same boat as she was. At first, she thought what she felt for him was pity, but she had come to realise that it was compassion, understanding, and all of those sappy emotions she doesn’t really allow her heart to feel for any other person but him. She even told him about her dead father, something she’s never done in her life before. And now here he is, barely alive, imprisoned in a state of deep sleep while the world is currently on fire.

Teala just sits there silently, watching over Roi. She’s talkative and you can never get her to shut up, so seeing her with her mouth shut for once is an eerie sight. Nikita has never really understood her well. Hell, she barely understands anyone here. But her in particular, the way she just freely lets her tears flow, doesn’t bother to mask her weaknesses, wears her heart on her sleeve. She’s already picked up on the other hunters fear of seeing her own blood, and it’s quite the bother. She knows, she probably should just ignore it, people will fear what people will fear, but this is a job where things get bloody, real bloody, and all that blood isn’t just from the monsters and demons, some of it is your own. Is she being selfish? Yeah, she can see how she is. But is it selfish to want to make sure people don’t die because of petty fears and silly mistakes? Well, maybe no fear is exactly petty. She has fears of her own, not that she’ll ever admit it, but she’s never let it hold her down. Not even once. Once a demon knows what you’re afraid of they’ll use it to manipulate and destroy you. It’s not that hard to understand, really. Survival is something that Nikita actually gets. Not people.

She’s already let a series of silly mistakes lead to JC’s death. That’s never going to happen ever again, and if she needs to boot out the people she thinks aren’t cut out for hunting, then she’ll do it one way or another.

There’s the flutter of wings, and now Mortimer and Calliope are standing in the middle of the room, the society member carrying a duffle bag at her side.

Mortimer looks and around, his gaze ending up on Nikita. “Where is everyone?”

“They’re just outside.” They let Nikita, Rosanna and Teala watch over the guys while everyone else calms down and steadies themselves.

“Good. I’ll go get them.” Just as he reaches the door, he directs his attention to Calliope. “You get your stuff ready.”

“Already on it, angel boy, “ Calliope responds as he exits through the door, tone annoyed but there’s the slightest smirk on her lips as she talks. She sets down her duffle bag on a table that’s set against the wall adjacent to the door, sifting through her belongings and pulling out a vile that contains a strange-looking plant, dark green in colour, thick and entangling around the base, holding itself together with tiny vines.

Nikita stands alongside her and squints at the plant. “The hell is that?”

“I’ll tell you when everyone is here, “ she says, taking a second, then a third vile of the same plant out of her duffle bag along with other tools used for grinding things into a fine powder.

The rest of the team quickly filters inside the room, standing around Calliope and awaiting any further notice. Taking one of the plants out of the viles, she holds it before her, showing it to everyone. Safiya’s eyes widen in recognition, giving Calliope an ‘are you sure this will work?’ kind of glance, to which Calliope winks at her.

“This is African dream root, “ she explains, gesturing to it in her hand. “For many years shamans have been using this to create medicines that can cure certain supernatural conditions.”

“How?” Teala inquires, staring intently at the little plant that’s supposed to fix the situation they’ve found themselves in.

“By granting us the ability to dream walk.”

This leads to further confusion, Teala staring even harder at the plant. “Dream walk?”

“Yes.” Calliope grins. “The ability to enter someone's dreams.”

The room explodes into chaos, all flooding Calliope with questions except for Safiya, who seems to know what this is already. She walks up to Calliope and holds out her hand. “I know how to use it. Let me help you.”

“Help would certainly be appreciated.” Calliope looks over Safiya’s shoulder back to the rest of the group. “The way this will work is that I’ll get you guys to split up into three teams to enter into each of the boy’s dreams. There, you will locate whatever is keeping them asleep and wake them up. Do you all understand?”

They all nod.

“Good. You may discuss amongst yourselves.”

Nikita already knows she’s diving into Manny’s dream, something she isn’t sure she wants to do. Who knows what freaky fantasies he could be living out right now? Looking about she sees Colleen pair up with Teala and Safiya pair up with Rosanna, that means she’s going to be paired up with Joey by default. No big deal. She’s been on a few hunts with him before. Each pair finds themselves at the foot of each bed, Colleen and Teala at Roi’s, Rosanna and Safiya at Matthew’s, and Joey and herself at Manny’s. They all glance over to Calliope and Mortimer who are now handing them all glass cups filled with a musty brown liquid that foams around the edges. It looks nasty like some just threw a bunch of dirt in water and sloshed it around. She says her thanks to Safiya for aiding her when handing her the cup, while Mortimer says his own good lucks to each of them.

“All right, “ Nikita says, shifting her weight onto her other foot. “Now what?”

“You will all collect a strand of hair from the person’s dream you are entering and…” She pauses. “Drink it.”

Hold on. Wait a second. “Bitch, what?”

“It requires the person’s DNA, “ Safiya pipes up. “You need it so the spell can identify which person’s dream you are entering. Otherwise, the spell won’t work. Also, it’s a good idea that we sit down for this. The spell puts you to sleep.” Everyone looks at each other unsure, but Safiya simply walks over and plucks a single strand of hair from Matthew’s scalp wincing. “Sorry, Matt.”

They all eventually do the same, Colleen and Teala taking a strand of hair from Roi and Joey taking a strand of hair from Manny. Nikita, however, stands in place. “Oh hell no. I am not drinking something with his hair in it. I don’t know where that shit’s been.”

Joey rolls his eyes and plucks another hair strand and drops it into Nikita’s glass. “Just drink the damn potion.”

Nikita glares at him but marches to a chair anyway. Others have to drag in their own chair, but besides that, there are no issues. Nikita huffs into her cup and glances at Calliope and Mortimer. “What about you two?”

“We’ll make sure nothing happens to your physical bodies, “ Mortimer replies. “As soon as we see something go wrong we will wake you guys up, okay?”

“Great…” She turns to Joey who’s seated beside her, lifting up her glass. “Cheers.”

They clink glasses. “Cheers.”

She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath and guzzles the potion down as fast as she can, trying to ignore the fact that it tastes like grass and dog shit mixed together. She cringes, almost dry heaving it up but she swallows it down, feeling a burning sensation at the back of her throat. She looks over at Joey, who looks just as disgusted as she is and cocks an eyebrow. “Did it not work?”

“Maybe it just takes some…” Joey slows down mid-sentence, looking at Nikita confused. Or, rather looking behind her confused.

Nikita squints at him and looks over her shoulder, finding that all the seats are empty. No traces of any of the team anyway. She turns back to Joey, startled.

Where the fuck did everyone go?

Chapter Text

Nikita shoots up out of her seat, wildly glancing around the emergency care room like a threatened animal. The only life present is Joey and herself, no sign of Mortimer and Calliope, or the rest of the team. Not even Manny.

Taking in the scene around her, the room is dimly lit in red, the only light source being from the backup emergency lighting system in case the power shut down. She’s seen the generator room before, so she has a good idea of how to get the power running again if it’s necessary. But seeing as they won’t be here for too long, she doesn’t see the point in it. All she cares about is finding Manny and walking him the hell up. One of the beds that resided in this room had been turned over, and Nikita quickly realises that was the bed Manny had been resting on. She gazes back at Joey who seems just as alarmed as she is, looking around and trying to adjust to the little light they have.

Nikita tip-toes over to the door that’s partially opened and takes a peek outside, seeing a hallway full of other rooms and the two storage closets that face each other on the two opposite sides of the walls. She’s also been inside there and knows that while the materials they have can treat any minor wounds, anything above moderate would require Mortimer or a hospital of some kind, and they definitely do not know how to treat any severe illness. But Calliope seems to be well within the know, so maybe she can give them a crash course of sorts.

She gazes back at Joey and gestures for him to follow her, gingerly opening the door and sliding out of the room. She creeps down the hall, left hand pressed up against the wall and her other hand on her belt. She turns back at Joey and eyes his coat. “Do you have any weapons on you?”

“Yeah, my pistol, “ he whispers back. “Why?”

Nikita returns her gaze back ahead of her. “Nothing. Just feel like we’re gonna need it at some point.”

This is certainly not what Nikita imagined when Mortimer said that Manny was dreaming. She thought it would have been a fun, little, probably gay fantasy, not a real-life horror game. Well, it isn’t actually real, it’s all in Manny’s head, but it’s all so vivid that for the first few seconds here she thought that she had been transported to some alternate reality or some shit. Besides, Nikita didn’t know Manny’s mind could be so… dark and unwelcoming. He’s the one usually doing the comforting, the hugging, being a shoulder to cry on whenever hunting. He deals with the human emotions of the victims, not her. That’s why she’s always seen him as this beacon of light. He’s sassy just like her, but with a golden heart, a stark contrast to hers which is frozen over in a thick case of ice. This isn’t Manny, not the Manny she knows at least.

They reach the end of the hallway and turn a corner into one of the sub-chambers of the Divine Lounge. This is where all the showers and restrooms are located. As she walks along the wall, she comes across the entrance of the restrooms, blood smeared against the handles. Nikita takes a closer look, and though it’s hard with the lights being red, she observes that the blood is still wet.

Recent then.

She gives Joey a sharp look. “Get ready.” She takes out the handgun out of her holster while Joey equips himself with his pistol, resting his thumb on the safety switch. She gently pushes open the door, taking a few very small steps in and resting her back against a wall. She takes a deep breath, Joey waiting for her signal, before she turns the corner, gun in hand and ready and shoot if anything leaps out to try and take a bite out of her. Instead, she’s greeted with a rotting corpse, sitting on the ground at the far end of the bathroom, back hunched over and long raven strands obscuring their face. Blood runs down the wall, a pool of crimson where they lie.

But Nikita knows that raven hair. She knows whose clothing that is, knows the person dead on the ground before her. Her eyes widen. “Holy shit…”

At this point, Joey appears from behind her, covering his mouth with a hand to swallow his scream. “No, no, no. No way. That can’t be she-- she didn’t even come with us.”

Nikita crouches down and brushes the hair out of her face.

Safiya Nygaard.

There’s a gaping stab wound in the middle of her chest that looks as if the person had twisted the blade, a means of torturing her in her final moments. Nikita’s blood runs cold. “This isn’t real.” Because there’s no way Safiya would be going down that easily. Besides, she’s supposed to be in Matthew’s head dealing with Matthew’s shit, not Manny’s. But there’s one big problem with this. Something that Nikita feared for the worse.

“There’s something in here.” She turns back at Joey. “And whatever it is, they want us dead.”

She backs away from Safiya’s body, crawling to her feet and checking any of the stalls for more bodies. Once everything seems clear, she heads out, stealing one last look at Safiya before pulling open the door and exiting alongside Joey. She continues down the hallway into where the showers are, finding another door and pushing it open. She immediately halts before the bodies of Roi and Teala, the two curled up by each other's side as if comforting one another in their final moments together. There’s a stab wound on Teala’s right thigh and chest, while there’s two in Roi’s left shoulder and abdomen.

Nikita looks away, ignoring their lifeless bodies and soldiering on. Joey freezes upon the sight but shakes his head, remembering this is all just a dream. But it’s not actually a dream is it? This is a fucking nightmare. One big, horrible nightmare that Manny is trapped in. Are Matthew and Roi experiencing the same thing? Are they stuck in this hellscape contained in their heads too? Not far from Roi and Teala is Colleen’s body, who looked like she was running based off of the scattering of the blood trail that led her here, but wasn’t too lucky with her escape. There’s a large gash on her torso, running all the way up to her chest. There’s also a stab wound in her back, most likely the killing blow.

Joey grabs Nikita’s arm, his voice dropping low to that of a whisper. “There’s nothing in her. Let’s go.”

Nikita guesses that it’s really the dead body of Colleen that’s freaking him out, but she doesn’t protest against him. She’s fixated on finding Manny.

They complete their sweep of the bathrooms and find themselves in the main chamber near the entrance. Nikita looks down the far end of the hallway then over to the entrance door, finding yet another body sprawled out on the carpet in front of the wooden table. She swiftly makes her way over, rolling over the body to be greeted with the lifeless face of Rosanna, throat slit and blood staining the carpet a deep colour. Nikita closes her eyes, hating to see the face of their usually lively and enthusiastic friend so cold and expressionless. She leaves the body and walks up the stairs as quietly as possible, taking hold of the entrance latch and pulling down. Locked. The Divine Lounge is most likely in lockdown. That means they’re trapped inside. Nikita can’t decide whether that’s a good or bad thing.

Forcing her eyes away from Rosanna she continues down the hallway to their rooms, taking a quick peek inside to try and locate any signs of life. The two hunters end up at the kitchen, finding Joey’s own dead body, a knife lodged into his chest as he lies on his side back pressed against the counter. The real Joey standing beside her goes pale, disturbed by seeing his own dead body and looking to Nikita for comfort.

She gives him a solid look. “This isn’t real.”

He nods, swallowing.

Stumbling upon Joey’s body, she wonders when she’ll find her's if she’s dead in Manny’s nightmare. But seeing everyone else's corpses, she guesses there’s a good chance that she is. She ponders what state she’ll find herself in if she’ll have her guts spilling out of her stomach, bleeding from the mouth, skin bloody and bruised. It’s a morbid thought, but she’s genuinely curious. Did she go out with honour, protecting Manny until the last breath, dying in a totally badass way? God, she hopes she did, otherwise she’d drag her sorry ass back down to earth just to kill her again. Wait, but she’d be killing herself then. How would that work?

They leave the kitchen behind them, Joey fidgeting with his own pistol. They’ve covered most of the first floor, which means that there’s only one more place to go. They enter the main chamber again, Nikita all too away of Rosanna’s body a few feet away from her and makes her way to a set of stairs that lead down. The basement. Where the main storage and generator is held along with those creepy cells.

They reluctantly head down, their breath far too loud in their ears. With every step, Nikita feels like screaming because the soft tapping of her foot hitting against metal sounds as loud as an aeroplane taking flight. And the red lights don’t make it any better. Way to set the mood, Manny. Couldn’t think of a happier dream, could you?

They decide to check the cells first, y’know, get the worst part over and done with. The hairs on the back of Nikita’s neck stand up as she pushes through, her intuition warning her about the danger that lies ahead. They haven't seen Manny yet and that already sets her off, but the fact that they haven’t even seen whatever is down here murdering everybody may just be even worse. What the hell could do all this? What could possibly take them all on and win in their own territory? A demon of some kind, perhaps? She certainly wouldn’t be surprised.

The two gaze through the iron door grilles, the kind of peepholes that slide speakeasy style. As Nikita glances inside, she catches a glimpse of a body crumbled over, brown hair and wearing a blooded stained leather jacket. She can’t see their face from the view she has, but she can already tell that it’s Matthew. She pushes gently on the door, finding it open, then proceeds to open it further and invite herself inside, getting Joey to stand outside so that nothing can come in.

She finds his body in ruins. His shirt has been torn to shreds, exposing the long, deep slashes against his torso. His hands have been handcuffed behind his back, his wrists bruised and bleeding from having struggled against them. Blood runs down his face and soaks the collar of his shirt, also drying splotches of crimson in his hair. Bruises and small cuts are littered on his face, his nose surely broken and bleeding, left eye swollen. But if Nikita had to guess what wound killed him, however, it would be the large tear in his side, exposing muscle and organs of different kinds. He was tortured. Whatever did this to him, to everyone, is absolutely sick.

Nikita swallows that nasty dream root concoction she drank earlier back down and climbs to her feet, forcing her gaze away. This isn’t real, this isn’t real, this isn’t real. But Manny is real. She needs to find Manny.

She marches out of the cell carrying a heavy heart, ignoring the concerned look Joey throws her way. The weight of their dead bodies drag her down, but that won’t stop her. She’s seen dead bodies is much worse states. Nevermind the fact that she feels a piercing pain in her chest. Nevermind the fact that she’s lightheaded with grief. This isn’t real. It’s all just a stupid nightmare, a game designed to scare her off. But she won’t give the world the satisfaction. She’s stronger than most and she knows that. She’s survived this long for a reason and she’s not backing down now just because of some bullshit birthday party-level trickery.

They turn back and head into the main storage rooms. The two hunters enter, clinging onto the last strings of hope they have. Manny has to be in here. The whole Divine Lounge is on lockdown, meaning nothing can get in or out. Unfortunately, the storage room is like a maze, having many compartments and other little areas and shelves for a wide variety of belongings that come in all shapes and sizes.

Silence. It feels like it’s cutting into her skin.

Silence.

Silence.

‘CLANG’

A person curses under their breath.

Nikita keeps her grip on her handgun tight, sweat dripping down her brows as she sharply turns a corner, gun pointing straight forward. She freezes, and all the air in her lungs vanishes.

“Manny?”

Manny sharply turns around, eyes wide with terror, blood smeared his hands and sleeves. His face is red, tears staining his cheeks as he curses once more, now directed at her. He takes the gun he’s been clutching close to him and aims it at her, fury and pain flickering in his iris’.

“You’re gonna fucking pay for this, bitch.” The tears start welling up again. “You took everyone from me.”

Nikita opens her mouth to protest because what the fuck Manny? It’s me, but he pulls the trigger and the bullet shoots past her, nicking her arm. She stumbles back, holding her now bleeding arm with a look of pure confusion. He’s about to shoot again. He’s hesitating, trembling and so scared but he’s going to try and kill her. She ducks back around the corner, Joey rushing to her side with a look of confusion.

“Oh, so now you’re going to run!” What the fuck is going on? Why is Manny so angry with her? Why is he trying to kill her?

“Did Manny do that?” Joey asks, gesturing to her cut.

Nikita nods her head. “Yeah, I don’t know why he shot me so don’t bother asking.”

They both hear footsteps coming their way, and Joey pushes her further back despite Nikita’s protests. “You stay here. Because I’m dead, maybe he’ll listen to me and realise that he’s dreaming.”

“What kind of logic is that?” Nikita hisses back at him, partly because she’s annoyed at him for being a dumbass and partly because getting shot with bullets, even if it’s just a scratch, really fucking hurts.

“Just trust me.” He bolts off, Nikita yelling at him to get his ass back here but knows her efforts are fruitless. She instead inches closer to the corner, peering over the side to catch a good enough view of Joey. He’s carefully approaching Manny it seems, his hands in the air, though she can’t see Manny himself. Shit.

“J-Joey? No-- No, you’re dead, “ Manny murmurs, but just loud enough for Nikita to hear. “No. This is some sort of sick joke--”

“Manny, “ Joey interrupts, his voice holding an intensity Nikita has never heard from him before. “This isn’t real.”

“What--”

“You’re dreaming.”

A beat of silence.

“That’s not possible, “ Manny says, keeping himself guarded. “You died. You-- You’re possessed, aren’t you? That demon possessed your dead body.”

“I… I saw that.” Joey pauses for a second, thinking and keeping his hands in the air. “And I saw everyone too. But if I was possessed, don’t you think I’d be covered in blood with a huge stab wound in my chest? Manny, this is just a dream.”

There’s more silence, then, “How? How the fuck is this just a dream?”

“Don’t you remember? You went out on a hunt with Matthew, Teala, Roi and Nikita. You were attacked by a lieutenant that put you and some of the other guys were to sleep.”

“But… But this all feels too real. I watched her kill you. I watched her kill everyone.” His voice is no louder than a terrified whisper.

Joey begins lowering his arms. “Her? Who’s her?”

The red lights flicker, Nikita’s eyes rapidly darting around in search of danger. She hears a voice at the very back of the storage room, directly behind Manny.

“I’m her.”

Nikita has to cover her mouth from screaming. Her mind is racing at the speed of one thousand miles per hour. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. There’s no way that’s possible. It can’t be.

That’s her own voice.

That’s it. No more bullshit. No more hiding. Nikita leaps out from her hiding spot, darting behind Joey with her gun at the rest. She keeps her intimidating stance strong, not faltering in the slightest, not even when she’s confronted with her own face, hair, nails, makeup and clothes, the only difference being her pure black eyes. A demon.

“Not one for cheesy entrances, “ Nikita, the possessed one, says, flicking her hair over her shoulder. “But with the little audience I’ve accumulated, I don’t see the harm in having a little more fun before I kill you all.”

Manny, who had shuffled back to where Joey is standing, grits his teeth as his hands clench around the handle of his gun. “Fun. This is fucking fun for you? You laughed in the faces of Roi, Teala and Colleen. You took pleasure in knowing that Safiya died alone. You found Rosanna’s crying entertaining. You showed Joey zero mercy. You tortured Matthew, and this all some kind of game to you?”

“Manny.” Joey carefully places a hand on his shoulder. “This isn’t real. I’m alive…” He takes a deep breath. “And that isn’t Nikita.”

The real Nikita pushes beside them and shoots, landing a hit on her doppelganger's shoulder. The demon screams, clutching her shoulder and glaring at her as her eyes flicker black. Her scowl then grows into a cruel smile, bring her hand up then motioning it down. As she does so, the shelf lining the wall rattles and topples over, Nikita pushing both the guys out of the way but not having enough time to save herself.

“Nikita!” Joey shouts as the shelf falls over Nikita, trapping her lower-half under it. She cries out as she feels hot, white pain shooting up from her legs and through her spin, slamming a fist down on the concrete floor. Joey directs his attention back at the demon and grimaces, switching the safety off his pistol and firing. The demon dodges, rushing up towards him with great speed and tackling him to the floor.

Manny takes a couple of steps back, his breath hitching as the panic hits his system. He’s shaking uncontrollably. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s paralysed as he watched the demon roughly grab Joey by his collar and punch him in the face. He screws his eyes shut as his hands reach for his temples. He breathes, in and out, in and out, before his eyes snap open and he’s scrambling over to Nikita. He leans down and takes hold of the edge of the shelf, using all his strength to lift it. As soon as she feels the pressure leave her legs, Nikita crawls out, biting back the pain in her legs as she moves. As soon as she’s completely out Manny drops the shelf, throwing Nikita an apologetic look before he runs over and rips the demon off a now severely battered Joey.

He holds her back, Nikita watching the demon flail in his arms. He’s struggling against her demonic strength, she sees that, and so does Joey. Even in his muddled, beaten-up state he still rushes to his side, taking the demon by one arm so Manny can hold the other. Nikita marches her way up to her and grapples her by the jaw forcing her to still, digging her nails into her skin and presses the barrel of her gun into her stomach. She spares her no final words as she pulls the trigger, the bullet ripping a straight line through her organs and bone and exiting out her back. Orange electricity pulses through her body, causing her to convulse for a few seconds, proceeding to drop limply. The two hunters let go, letting the demon collapse on the floor.

No one utters a word until Manny inhales deeply. “Nikita, I’m--”

“Save it.” She gives him a look. He can’t tell if it’s an unkind one or not. The red light is obscuring her features. “Just wake the hell up. Then we’ll talk.”

He nods, and suddenly Nikita’s bolting upright in her seat in the emergency care room. Joey wakes up beside her, startles and grabbing at the sides of his seat before his eyes lock on hers. Wait a second. Did they do it? They both bounce to their feet, ignoring Calliope and Mortimer and stopping by Manny’s bedside. His eyebrows scrunch as he groans in discomfort, his eyes flickering open and landing on Nikita.

“Bitch, what?...” He inquired groggily, confused before he shakes his head and sits up from his seat, smiling. “Oh my God. Guys. I had the weirdest fucking nightmare. After that thing knocked me out I--”

“We know what you dreamt about.” Manny gives Nikita a stern, questioning look as she says this. “We were there. We had to wake you up by travelling inside your head by eating this disgusting ass plant.”

Manny somehow looks even more confused, and Nikita sighs, explaining everything to him. He listens thoughtfully, nodding his head slowly as he listens to her story. After explaining, they all just stay there in silence, Manny processing everything he’s been told. Nikita glances at Joey, then at Calliope and Mortimer before she looks back at Manny. “Listen. You and I need to talk in private.”

Manny huffs, apparently expecting this, but slowly slides out bed anyways. He stretches his stiff muscles, rolling his shoulders and neck while following her out of the room, saying his thank you’s to Calliope. As soon as they exit the room, Nikita pivots on her heels, arms folded and looking unimpressed.

“Really?” She asks, more of a rhetorical question, however. “Me as a fucking demon? That was your nightmare.” She scoffs at him. “And you tell me to get over Laura and Gabbie.”

Manny pinches the bridge of his nose. “Really. You’re gonna do this to me now? Just as I woke up from some nightmare that could have apparently kept me in a coma forever?”

“Yeah, now. You’re such a fucking liar, you know that? You say that you’ve moved on, say that you’re okay now, but you haven’t, haven’t you?”

“So I slipped up.” They keep their voices hushed, but only because there are people in the room beside them. If that weren’t the case they’d be screaming by now. “Why the fuck does that matter? Why do you care so much, hm?”

“Because I’m so sick of my friends lying to me.” Why doesn’t he get it? Why doesn’t he understand? She’s so sick of dealing with this shit.

“Nikita, in case you haven’t noticed, “ and his voice slightly raises in anger, “you barely talk to anyone here but me.”

“Exactly. Who the fuck do you think I'm talking about.”

Manny shuts his mouth and backs off. He gives her a long, hard look, a myriad of emotions flickering in his eyes. “Fucking hell.” He storms off back into the room, leaving Nikita by her lonesome.

Nikita’s hurt. She’s so fucking hurt, not because she was possessed by a damn demon in his dream but because he’s such a fucking liar. He lies right to her face constantly, telling her that she needs to move on when he hasn’t even himself. A hypocrite. That’s what he is. A lying hypocritical asshole.

She turns into the opposite direction and stomps away. She doesn’t give a shit about anything right now. She’s far too furious right now. She doesn’t even want to see his face. Calliope and Mortimer can come and get her if they need anything. She just can’t deal with Manny’s bullshit right now. Not today.

She strides up to her room, hesitating for a single second, before walking in, slamming the door shut behind her.

Chapter Text

Teala feels the seat under her shift, instead of being a solid and frankly an uncomfortable chair now being soft and comfy. She places a palm on her seat and feels the new woollen material as her hand slightly sinks into its warmth, immediately retracting it back to her chest. She, however, slams it against a wooden table that definitely wasn’t there before, yelling out in pain as she tries to shake the aching away. She narrows her eyes and looks to her left, finding Colleen sitting next to her, eyes darting around the space they’re in. The scent of roasting vegetables and grilling steak suddenly hits her nostrils, the sound of loud chatter and clinking glasses growing ever louder.

She stands up rapidly, taking in the scene. She’s in a restaurant of sorts, filled with families and friends having a good time and catching up with each other. The seats are scarlet in hue, dark and lush brown wood framing the cushions, also being the same material the tables are made of. Adjacent to them is a large, dark wood wall that behind it leads to the bathrooms, ivy crawling down to the floor and bringing a freshness to the restaurant. Looking outside through the tall, rectangular windows are people casually strolling about, wearing rather modern-looking clothes even though they time travelled back into the seventies.

Teala shoots Colleen an unsure look, the other hunter looking startled herself. She, however, stands with her, taking her by the arm and dragging out from behind the tables. “Come on, “ she says, leading her out the restaurant through double doors. “We’ve got to find Roi.”

Right. That’s where they are; in Roi’s head. No wonder this place screams twentieth century to her. It’s because it is the twentieth century. It’s rather pleasant, actually. The sun beams down on them, casting over everything in its golden light and bringing warmth to the little city they seem to be in. And despite all the cars on the roads, the air is fresh, the slight breeze cooling their skin making the perfect day to be out. Teala watches these two pigeons on the side of the road fighting over a hot chip, squawking at one another with their feathers riled up. She laughs to herself, watching the brawl go down. This isn’t that bad. She expected maybe a post-apocalyptic world, or maybe blood rain as the streets are covered with scattered bodies of the deceased, or maybe being stuck in hell with demons, laughing and mocking as they slowly drag a dagger into your skin. But it’s not. It’s a regular day. Everything should be fine.

But of course, it never turns out that way.

Colleen and Teala search the streets for any sign of their daredevil friend, peering down alleyways and even asking around. No one has seen him. It is a big city, after all. How the hell are they supposed to find him here? Only God knows how big this place really is and, who knows, maybe he could be anywhere in the world? But then again, could his mind really think of all of that? Is the mind powerful enough to recall every landmark, every person it’s come across, every building and street in just America alone? That’s preposterous. Sometimes Teala forgets where she’s placed her phone but then realises she’s been holding it in her hands the entire time.

Maybe it has something to do with that weird, green gas that he had inhaled. The lieutenant’s name was ‘Benji’ or ‘Benjamin’, something along those lines. Whatever his name was, that gas was the thing that put him to sleep, and no doubt created this dreamscape as well. Perhaps the supernatural element is the explanation to all this. Certainly wouldn’t be the first time.

They walk across the streets, sticking close and avoiding crowds whenever possible. Just because everything appeared nice doesn’t mean it is. Looks are deceiving. This is the work of a demon, so something has to be wrong here. If Mortimer couldn’t take a peek into his head, then who knows what’s really happening underneath the surface of this city. Maybe all the civilians here are demons. Maybe it’s like the Purge and for twelve hours the government will declare that everything is legal and people will just start stabbing each other. Or maybe Teala just watches too many movies on Netflix.

Striding along with Colleen, she leans in closer, whispering. “Maybe we should check inside the buildings and stuff.”

“Good idea, “ she replies, before her expression shifts into confusion. “Wait, why are you whispering?”

Teala shrugs. “‘Cause, y’know. Don’t wanna risk any demons overhearing us.”

“Well, you’re being really obvious right now, “ Colleen grins, gently pushing the younger hunter away with an eyebrow raised.

“Oh.”

They decide to turn off into the bank first, slowly making their way inside and trying to blend in with the crowd. Continuing their journey they pretend they’re going somewhere, not wanting to raise suspicions of the people around them. If the public thought they were robbers, well, this whole rescue mission would get a whole lot harder. The bank is quite popular, making it hard to see through the long lines of people and other dawdlers that wait impatiently since every seat has been taken. Teala scans the walls of the banks, running her fingers against the cool, black surface when her eyes land on the clock perched up on the wall. It’s broken, the hands unmoving, the glass cracked in a spiderweb sort of pattern like someone had punched it. Teala frowns. Don’t they see it?

Colleen taps her on the shoulder. “He’s not here.”

“Right.” One building down. Thousands more to go.

They decide to dip inside a nearby McDonalds and look around, eyes darting to person to person. Teala’s gaze drifts from the people to the walls again, searching for… Something. She isn’t sure what, but just something, a sign that will lead her to Roi perhaps. That’s when she spots yet another broken clock, smashed in the same fashion as the previous one. Okay, that must be a huge coincidence. So she just happened to stumble upon two broken clocks on the exact same block. Perhaps there is a clock-breaking maniac on the loose, a man who has had a vendetta against all clocks alike every since he was a child. Yeah, no, that sounds way too childish for a demon. She’s just paranoid. She needs to focus, needs to find Roi.

The two enter a mall, eyes surveying the vast variety of stores before them. From what Teala can tell there are five levels, two reserved for parking and the top reserved for a cinema, but other than that, the rest are for shops of all kinds; makeup, clothing, gaming, salons, hairdressers, and of course, food. But what catches her attention is the large, golden clock that looms over the ground floor, glass smashed and the hands fixated into one place. No. This isn’t normal. This isn’t some weird coincidence.

Teala points to the broken clock “Colleen, have you…”

“Noticed all the broken clocks?” She gives her a knowing look. “Yeah. Even these people’s watches are broken.”

None of this is normal. She expected that being in Roi’s dream and all, but this is oddly disturbing. Clocks stopping have always been a bad omen like seeing crows on your windowsill, but every clock here being cracked? And not to mention the hands on the clock point to the exact same time, six fifty-nine. She saw it in the bank, saw it in McDonald's, and now this mall and even on the watches of the people that walk by. Six fifty-nine. Six fifty-nine.

“Hey, Colleen, what’s so important about six fifty-nine?”

Colleen thinks, eyes staring at the clock hands, searching for answers. “I… I don’t know.” She sighs and takes Teala by her wrist. “Let’s go find Roi. I have a bad feeling about this. A really bad feeling.”

With every shop they pass, they search for Roi or a clock inside. No Roi’s have come up yet, but clocks certainly have in the same condition as the rest. All smashed. The hands have stopped on six thirty-seven. No one notices.

Another clock. Six fifty-nine

Another watch. Six fifty-nine

Teala even comes across a digital clock. Eighteen fifty-nine, basically translating to six fifty-nine in the afternoon. Making her way onto the other side of the mall she catches a glimpse outside. She’s somehow able to tell where the sun is in the sky and ascertain the fact that it’s in the afternoon. Close to around five, she estimates. She doesn’t want to know what will happen when it hits six fifty-nine.

The two come across a food court packed with dozens of people. They circle around the main crowd peering in, observing the faces of each individual. No Roi. How long will this take? They could be searching for days but they don’t have that long. They need to find him now and wake him the hell up. Continuing the search they come across the bathrooms, one for boys and one for girls and one for handicapped.

The two both look at each other, having a staring contest, hunter vs hunter until Teala drops her head and sighs in defeat. “Fiiiiine. I’ll go inside the boy's bathroom.”

Colleen smiles sweetly at her and pets her on the head. “Atta’ girl.”

Teala marches up to the boy's bathroom, stopping in front of the entrance and looking back at Colleen. She waves at her mouthing ‘good luck’ with a sly grin.

Oh, she’s going to pay for this when Roi wakes up.

Taking a deep breath she pushes open the door and tumbles in, eyes rapidly searching around but to her relief, there isn’t anyone there. She’s about to leave when she hears the sound of someone unturning the lock and instinctually ducks into one of the stalls. She waits until the sound of flowing water hits her ears to take a quick glance out of her stall, opening it ever so slightly to gaze at the figure. He has his head down, washing his face with cold water, but when he looks up at himself in the mirror Teala can’t help but gasp at the familiar face.

She slips out of the stall and quietly proceeds towards him while he splashes water on his face once more, seemingly not noticing her approach.

She clears her throat. “Roi?”

He flinches back away from her, a bewildered expression on his face that slowly turns into a steady glare. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Well, I--”

“This is the men's bathroom.”

Wait, what?

Teala blinks rapidly, her muddled brain trying to understand what the hell is going on. “Roi, I need to speak with you--”

“Hold up, “ he interrupts, pointing a finger at her accusingly. “How do you know my name? Do I know you?”

She freezes. And for a real moment, she’s hurt. She’s genuinely hurt. He forgot about me. There’s an aching in her chest, her heart is screaming, because he’s glaring at her, and eyebrow raises, just forgetting all their history. Forgetting everything they’ve been through. Forgetting that she held him in her arms and that he did the same. Forgetting all the late nights they’ve spent together.

She blinks back tears and steels herself. “Roi. It’s me, Teala.” She takes a step closer and he takes a step back in response, another wave of pain coursing through her. “Listen to me. You’re in danger, okay?”

Roi narrows his eyes at her, nodding his head slowly. “Right. Look, I’m pretty sure I’ve never met anyone named Teala before.”

“Roi.” She’s desperate at this point. She’s willing to do anything to bring him back. “Your full name is Roi Fabito, born August 21, 1991.” She notices the scar under his eye, looking more recent then it usually is, and tries her best to gauge what year this is, knowing that he got that during a hunt with Alex. “A few years ago, you found out that Alex was a hunter by following him to this creepy mansion. That’s when he was attacked by vampires and you saved him.”

He stands there, perplexed, eyes locked onto her for a few heartbeats before he spins on the back of his heels and bolts out of the restroom with amazing speed. Teala chases after him, running past Colleen who’s narrowing her eyes at her with her head tilted, Teala gesturing at her to follow him. She pushes through crowds of people, apologising under her breath as she keeps her eyes on Roi who must be already one hundred feet ahead of her. That boy is fast.

He sprints up the stairs, dodging everyone in his way, making his way to the second floor of the mall. Teala follows suit, not nearly as fast and almost falling to her death at some point, but manages to keep a steady pace. She reaches out for him, calling out his name amongst the conversations and surprised shouting. If she could just explain, talk to him for only just a minute to get him to realise that this is just a dream then he would wake up. He would remember her and be his friend again.

She reaches the top of the stairs, completely out of breath and wheezing for air, leaning over and clutching her chest. She doesn’t give up on calling for him though. She gazes up and--

“Who are you and how do you know Roi?”

She’s met with the face of a young man with styled black hair, smooth facial features and well built under the grey jumper he’s wearing. He towers over Teala, and despite looking like a nice man, stares her down with sharp eyes.

For some reason, he seems familiar.

“Um.” God, she’s so nervous. “I have to tell him something important, I just-- I just kinda freaked him out.”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Freaked him out?”

By now Colleen has caught up with her, huffing and puffing and sweating buckets. She looks at Teala, then at the man, then back at Teala again jabbing a thumb towards the guy. “Who’s this?”

“I’m sorry, where are my manners?” The man sighs, then puts on a bright smile. “I’m Alex, a friend of Roi’s. You said you needed to talk to him or something?”

And in that moment Teala is left speechless. She opens her mouth but nothing comes out. She must look like a blubbering fish, trying her hardest to speak but no sound comes out. Alex narrows his eyes at her, but Colleen steps in and saves the day.

“Okay, be honest with us, “ she says, pushing a starstruck Teala aside. “Are you a hunter like us?”

That kind smile falters, and now that same serious look has returned. “Yes. Why? What’s wrong?” He pauses then, “Roi’s in some kind of trouble, isn’t he?”

Colleen nods. “Yeah.”

He stands there, ignoring the awkward side glances he’s receiving from people who are passing by up and down the stairs lost in thought. He closes his eyes. “I want to trust you guys.” He opens his eyes, gaze intense. “Can I trust you guys?”

Colleen nods once more. “Of course. Come with us if you want.”

Alex agrees and leads them, Teala still slightly shell shocked from meeting Alex, even if it’s just a dream. But hey, how far can it be from the real thing? This is Roi’s mind. He should have a pretty good idea of how Alex is, seeing how he was his best friend and all. They’ve literally saved each other’s lives daily. They all search for Roi, calling out his name and asking people around. Alex at some point pulls his phone out of his pocket and sends Roi messages and even tries calling him. As he does so, Teala manages to see just out of the corner of her eye, the time.

Six forty-nine. Shit.

Only ten more minutes until-- well, she doesn’t know. But she definitely doesn’t want to find out.

She doesn’t understand why his time is the only time that works. She’s asked around for people’s time on their phones but even then the time glitches out, flickering back and forth into the time six fifty-nine.

“Alex, I know you don’t really trust us yet but…” she catches his attention, his pace slowing down as he listens to Teala. “But we really need to find him. Now. And I don’t really have time to explain why.”

Alex searches for any traces of ill intent in her eyes, staring her down, trying to get her to crack. But she doesn’t back down. She isn’t nervous this time. She’s only got ten minutes to save Roi before whatever happens and she’s fully committed to finding him. She just needs Alex’s trust. Needs his permission for her to go after him. And she’ll respect that, despite how inconvenient it is right now, despite the fact that this isn’t really real, although Alex - and she hates to admit this - is dead.

He must see her determination because he sighs in defeat. “Okay. We can all split up and take the other levels. But just know that Roi has been acting… strange today.”

“Strange?” Colleen inquires.

“Yeah. He’s just… Acting really off. Not like himself. I don’t know why but maybe--” he glances at the two hunters. “Maybe that’s why you guys are here.”

“Wait, guys, “ Teala stops for a second. “Colleen, you and I don’t have phones. How are we going to contact each other?”

Colleen shrugs, then glances at Alex who sighs for the hundredth time today. “Fine. You- “ he points to Colleen, “ -with me. Roi has his phone on him so when you find him just bring him this and say Alex sent you.” He takes a metallic necklace from around his neck that was hidden underneath his jumper, a simple chain having a simple cross attached to it.

She takes it carefully in her palm, closing her fingers around the cross. “Okay. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Let’s go find Roi.”

Colleen and Alex decide to investigate the cinema while the car park is left for Teala. She’s not too thrilled about it, seeing as in all the horror movies she’s ever seen, car parks are high on that list of ‘top places you should never go in dire situations’. They take the stairs going upwards while Teala travels down underneath into the two car park floors, keeping her hand on the cold railing as she travels deeper underground. She enters through a door, sticking to the walls to prevent being run over. She doesn’t think she can die in Roi’s dream, but she certainly doesn’t want to test that theory. By now the cars are starting to file out, people wanting to get home presumably after a long day. How long has Teala been in his dream anyway? It feels like hours. How does time work here anyway? Will she wake up at the exact time she fell asleep or has she been unconscious for days. Doesn’t matter. Finding Roi does.

She spots movement in her peripheral and moves towards it, trying her best to be as stealthy as possible. She’s been getting better at that, her rather small and light form making it easy for her to crawl into small spaces. She eventually catches up, standing a few feet away from him out of sight. She tightens her grip of Alex’s necklace.

“I know you’re there.”

Well then. No point in staying crouched behind this pillar. She steps out from behind, making herself present. She doesn’t want to scare him off like she did last time.

He turns around, and Teala only now just realises how tired he looks. The bruises under his eyes are deep, lips pulled into a frown by default. “Y’know, there’s something super strange about you.”

Teala tilts her head. “What do you mean?” Is he finally remembering her?

He chuckles to himself, apparently amused by this whole situation he found himself in. “Yeah. Every day is the same here. I’ve replayed this day… what? Ninety-six times now?”

What? “Like Groundhog Day?”

“Yeah, “ he agrees. “Like Groundhog Day.”

So, this isn’t a nice dream like Teala had suspected. It was a nightmare, after all, having to relive the same day over and over and over again.

“But the thing is, “ he continues. “Not once in my loops have I ever seen you. Ever.” And when he looks her dead in the eye, she can feel his gaze pierce into her soul. “So why now? Who the hell are you?”

“I told you. I’m Teala and I’m here to save you, “ she explains.

“Here to save me, “ he scoffs. “I’m not the one that needs saving.”

Teala narrows her eyes at him, curious. He’s the one stuck in this infinite loop, the one that’s trapped in a nightmare, the one that’s in a coma. “I don’t understand.”

He smiles and shakes his head, holding back another chuckle. “Do you wanna know how these loops end?”

Teala nods her head.

“Exactly on six fifty-nine in the afternoon. As soon as the time on my friend’s and I’s phones hits that number, my friend Alex--” He pauses, taking a deep breath. “My friend Alex, dies.”

There’s a heavy silence that falls between them, cars passing by them occasionally and illuminating them in their headlights, giving the illusion that they’re glowing almost. That’s when Roi laughs. “Why am I even telling this to you?”

“Because…” Teala carefully takes a few steps towards Roi extremely slowly, holding her hands out. She opens her closed fist and reveals the necklace to him, his eyes widened upon seeing it. “I’m your friend Roi.”

“What--”

“This isn’t real. You’re dreaming.” And Roi just stares at her, mouth gaping open in disbelief, but she continues. “And I think I know what I have to do know to wake you up.”

She shoves the necklace into Roi’s hands and darts off, slipping inside the elevator that just opened and pushing the ‘close elevator’ button with all her might, seeing Roi’s confused face as he runs up to try and follow her but is too late. She chooses her location, the top floor, and waits impatiently, being the only person inside. She only has a few minutes left but she had to take this route. Otherwise, Roi would surely catch up to her. And he needed need to know what she was doing, because if he did, even when he’s forgotten about her he would surely try to stop her like the superhero he is.

But she wants to be the superhero this time. Just this once.

With a short ‘ding’ the elevator door opens, Teala stumbling into the top floor and racing inside the cinema. She jumps over a small little gate that blocks people from entering without a ticket, the guard standing there taken aback by zooming past him and protests. She drowns out his frustrated yelling and barges into one of the rooms. Scanning over the crowd she can see no signs of Colleen or Alex. She visits the next one, and the next one, and the next one, the anxiety climbing up her throat before she finds herself in the second last room. Her gaze immediately lands on Alex and Colleen slowly making their way down the stairs on opposite sides of each other, observing each row as they do so.

In the very corner of the room, however, is a man wearing a hoodie that shields his identity. He lifts his chin, reaching into his pocket gingerly, the glint of silver catching Teala’s eyes. She bolts down the stairs, Colleen calling out to her at first in joy that morphs into concern. She shouts something over to her, which prompts some of the audience to hush her, but Teala doesn’t respond. She keeps pushing on.

Alex turns around, eyebrow raised. “Hey, what are you doing? Where’s Roi--”

‘BANG’

Everyone in the cinema screams, the hooded man now scurrying his way out faster than anybody there, shoving the pistol back into his jacket. A body crumples to the ground, Colleen’s breath hitching as she freezes in pure terror. Roi literally throws people out of the way, pushing his way through the sea of people in a hurry to leave the theatre. He checks his phone, the dread hitting him hard as he gazes at the time displayed on his lock screen.

6:59 PM

He manages to squish his way inside, searching the room until his eyes land on Alex. And holy shit. He’s standing, breathing, eyes wide and alive. He’s alive. He’s alive. He’s alive.

…

... How is he alive?

He jobs his way, trying to get a better view of the scene but it’s so dark, the only light being from the large screen that’s still playing whatever crappy movie that just came out. Alex bends down on the floor, mouth moving, talking to someone with a poorly disguised panicked expression plastered onto his face.

And that’s when he sees the blood. Adrenalin hits his veins again. Running over, he can see past the seats now, see the black, wavy hair against the neon carpet.

No. That can’t--

No. No, that’s not right.

But it is.

He leaps down the stairs and slides to his knees, giving himself one mad carpet burn but he couldn't care less. He kneels down beside Alex to come face to face with that strange girl Teala, now bleeding non-stop from her side. She groans in pain, eyes fluttering open and falling on Roi.

Yet she smiles at him. “Che- Check… The time.”

He obliges, pressing the home button, screen lighting up his face in blue light.

7:00 PM

A choked sob escapes his throat, but he doesn’t know whether it’s from relief that Alex isn’t dead or that fact that this girl who just sacrificed herself for him is dying right in front of him. He takes off his jacket and uses it like a cloth, gently pressing it against her wound. He goes to brush the frizzy strands of hair out of her face, but as soon as his fingers graze her skin, his memories slam back into his body. It feels like being hit by a train at full speed, his ribcage threatening to crack under the sheer pressure. The turning of time, having physical contact with her again, brought all of the repressed memories rushing to the surface of his consciousness.

Tears drip onto the carpet below. “Teals?”

“G-Glad to- “ a sharp inhale, “ - have you back, buddy.” And she’s still smiling.

A shaking hand is placed on Roi’s shoulder, his head snapping over his shoulder to face Colleen. Oh God Colleen’s here too. How could have he forgotten?

“Roi, “ she swallows, sniffling and holding her head up high despite the fact that the world feels like it’s crumbling around them. “This isn’t real. It’s all in your head. You have to wake up.” She glances over at Teala, rapidly losing blood and going pale. “For her sake.”

He nods, but then catches sight of Alex. When he wakes up, he’ll be gone. The first time he entered the loop he thought that this was some kind of bittersweet dream. Unhealthy, sure, but everything he wanted; for things to be the way they were back then. And it was great. It was like nothing changed at all. But then it hit six fifty-nine and all the clocks shattered. The hands stopped. Alex was killed, vision filled with red and then he woke up.

But Alex is already dead.

Teala isn’t.

He still has her.

So he takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and when he opens them he jolts right up, hyperventilating and trembling. He barely manages to get any words out before Teala crashes into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face into the crook of his neck. He’s sitting in bed in a small room, Colleen, Manny, Mortimer and Calliope at his side, Teala in his arms. She stays there for a while then decides to try and pull away, but he curls his arms around her waist and pulls her close again, shaking.

“Stay.” It’s the only word he can muster. He has no strength left.

She melts into the hug, holding him so tight, afraid to let go. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And as they embrace each other, Teala can't help but think about how proud Alex would be if he were still here.

Chapter Text

Rosanna had squeezed her eyes shut, preparing herself for an impact of some kind, maybe feel a little lightheaded and sick to the stomach, but all she felt was the seats beneath her shift. Opening one eye she finds herself in a wide room filled with people, some sitting at tables at having conversations with others, some lingering around by themselves, watching the others or staring out a window. She’s seated on a couch, Safiya next to her, looking around with currently observing her surroundings with fascination. Rosanna notices while some people wear normal, casual clothing, others wear hospital gowns. Is that where they are? The hospital? These must be all the patients then.

Rosanna stands, scanning the room of people in search of Matthew. Safiya also rises from the couch, squinting at each of their faces, trying to pick out their friend amongst strangers. They start walking around a bit, trying to cover more ground. Rosanna finds the bathrooms and halts in front of the male’s side. While the female’s are opened, this one is locked, Safiya stopping beside her and shrugging.

Huh.

“Saf, I don’t think Matt’s here, “ Rosanna says, continuing to idle around the room.

“Yeah, no kidding.” Safiya continues to search the room, eyes landing on each patient. “Think we should ask around? A lot of these people look like long term patients, so maybe there’s a chance that they know him.”

Rosanna nods. “Good idea.”

The two girls split up, going their own ways and taking the opposite side of the ward. Rosanna looks around for anyone that might be approachable and ends up sitting down at a table where a man sits, quietly minding his own business.

“Um, excuse me, sir, “ Rosanna starts, grabbing the attention of the man. “My name’s Rosanna and I’m looking for someone.”

The man flashes a grin at her. “Name’s Chris. Who are you looking for?”

“His name is Matthew, “ and Chris’ eyes widen slightly with recognition.

“Matthew. As in Matthew Patrick?”

Rosanna beams at him. That was fast. Thank God. “Yeah, that’s him.”

He leans back, crossing his arms and rubbing circles into his skin. “I’m sorry but, I don’t know. Haven’t seen him today.”

Rosanna deflates. “Oh.” So much for finding him quickly.

“Hey, don’t worry, “ Chris smiles softly at her, sensing her disappointment. “With the way things work around here, he’s bound to show up in a few days.’

“A few days?”

Chris raises an eyebrow, amused by her concern. “You’re new here, aren’t you?”

Rosanna nods.

“Welp, “ his smile widens as he lifts his chin. “Good luck.”

Rosanna doesn’t understand what that means, but she waves goodbye anyway. Once she stands, she finds her way to Safiya seconds away to relaying every Chris told her to the hunter when all of the sudden a nurse bursts through two double doors and calls out for everyone to start filtering back into their rooms. The people cut their conversations short and begin leaving, Rosanna following Safiya out the door and into a series of hallways. They follow the crowd, but as soon as they see the nurses and doctors take their eyes off them they slip away into another empty hallway away from everyone else, jogging away as sneakily as possible. Rosanna peers around a corner and finds a man behind a counter in a closed-off room leave his station, locking the door behind him and heading off.

The two hunters both glance at each other, waiting until the man is out of sight then rushing up to the door. Safiya glances down both ends of the hallways before getting into position and kicking down the door. They head in, Rosanna closing the door behind her and sift through the files found on the man’s desk. She begins to look over the wall, her finger tracing the edges of multiple folders and sheets stacked in neat piles, sliding them off one by one. They’re all medical records of the different patients here, though Rosanna doesn’t bother reading through their conditions.

“Hey, check this out.” Rosanna stops and slides over to Safiya who’s clutching a file filled with papers. Her finger lands on the name of the file, silent with shock as she processed the information.

Rosanna gasps aloud. This file is Matthew’s.

She reads through it and oh my God is it a lot to take in. She thought that this was the hospital that he was admitted in after the crash, maybe recovering in a room somewhere, resting.

But this isn’t a regular hospital. It’s a psychiatric hospital.

After the crash, he stayed in the hospital for a few weeks and reported cold sensations and lights flickering at first, which doctors assumed was just the room itself having faulty wiring or something which needed to be fixed, but then reported seeing a figure in the corner of his eye that would vanish. It got worse. He was hearing a voice. He kept seeing his dead wife, her ghost he was saying. One interview with a psychiatrist to another and the next moment they sent him away with antipsychotics and antidepressants, diagnosing him with psychotic depression which they believed was induced by head trauma in the crash, as well as PTSD.

He was okay for about a month until they sent him to a psychiatric hospital.

There was a fire, though its cause was unknown. Doctors said that Matthew was the one to start the inferno in order to kill himself, well, that’s what they thought. He was unharmed, thankfully, but the fire ended up taking everything. He wanted to stay with a friend of his parents until he found a new home, but they thought Matthew was suicidal and a danger to himself and others. So he was admitted once more, sent to this very hospital for treatment.

“Oh my God…” Safiya mutters under her breath. “He never told us this…”

Rosanna doesn’t know what to say. Did he really set a fire to-- no, this Matthew we’re talking about. He wouldn’t do such a thing. He’s not a danger to himself and certainly not one to others around him. He wasn’t hallucinating. It was real. It was all real.

“This happens… far more often than it should, “ Safiya begins, keeping her voice low. “I’ve seen so many people get treated like they’re insane because of what they see. Even hunters sometimes get admitted if we’re not sent to jail. It’s just so frustrating to see. If only there were people who knew, who understood the world as we do working in those higher positions then maybe…” She draws out a long sigh. “But no. We all get sucked into this life, don’t we?”

There’s a moment of silence before Rosanna puts a hand of Safiya’s shoulder. “We do what we can. As long as we’re saving lives, how bad can this life really be?”

The other hunter opens her mouth to answer, but suddenly the door swings open revealing a grumpy looking man with short blonde hair and stubble beard from not shaving in a long time, as well as a red sweater and a walnut brown overcoat.

“What are you two doing here, “ he demands, his tone soft but also indicating that he’s not afraid to call backup if things so south.

Rosanna immediately straightens her posture, stuttering and searching for words to say. “We are… looking for someone!”

He raises an eyebrow. “By trespassing and reading through private files while the accountant is out?”

Safiya steps in front of Rosanna, a hand in front of her protectively. “Look. We know that we shouldn’t have broken in and we’re sorry. But this is important. We really need to find this person. Right now.”

“And who exactly is this person you need to find?”

Safiya looks back at Rosanna who nods at her.

“Matthew Patrick.”

“Matthew?” His eyebrows scrunch together, and Rosanna only realises that grumpy look was only his neutral expression. “What do you want with him?”

Rosanna tilts her head. “You know who he is?”

“Yeah. I’m his therapist.”

Ah. Now she understands his sudden anger.

“We know what happened, “ Rosanna begins, stepping out from behind Safiya much to her distress. She gives her a look and the taller hunter sighs, backing down. “He told us about the crash. About Stephanie.”

He shoots them a sharp look, so she continues. “Please. You have to understand, this thing we have to tell him, it’s super important--”

“And is that exactly?” He interrupts.

Rosanna and Safiya both glance at each other again.

“We can’t tell you that. We’re sorry.”

“And who are you guys?”

She gestures to herself. “I’m Rosanna.” She points to Safiya. “And this is Safiya. We’re his friends.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you two around. You’re not patients” He folds his arms. “Are you visitors?”

“Yes, “ Rosanna lies.

“Visiting hours are between four and eight, “ he says, unimpressed. “Tell the truth.”

“You want the truth?” Safiya asks, taking a step towards the man who takes a step back in response. “We’re here to see Matthew because he’s being haunted by his deceased wife. He isn’t paranoid. He isn’t delusional. What he sees is very real and our job is to hunt the supernatural. We’re trying to save him.”

He nervously smiles at them, trying to hide his concern behind an expression of amusement. “Right. So, let me get this straight you--” breathless laughter rattles his lungs. “You hunt down ghosts and exorcise them? Is that what I’m hearing? You two are like the Ghostbusters?”

Rosanna decides to join in. “We also hunt different types of monsters like vampires, werewolves, wendigos and other dangerous creatures.”

“Uh-huh, yeah. Right.”

They stare at him, long and hard.

His blue eyes glare back at them, keeping his guard up.

There’s silence.

Silence.

More silence.

His hard gaze begins to waver.

“Oh my God, you two are serious, aren’t you?”

They nod.

“That’s insane. Ghosts, vampires, the whole lot, they don’t exist.”

Safiya takes another step forward. “But they do.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “No. You can’t just come barging in here and start spouting nonsense. Some of these people deal with delusions and paranoia on a day to day basis and that will only make their anxiety worse. Is that what you’re trying to do? Mess up his head?”

“We would never do such a thing.” If only these people knew the horrors that hide in plain sight. “We want to help him.”

“And so do I.” Rosanna takes a real good look at this man’s face, and despite his grumpy nature, she finds compassion whenever he speaks of Matthew. “That’s why I can’t let you see him. Not unless I have confirmation that you’re his friends.”

Rosanna comes up and stands before him. He’s much taller than she is, but she looks him in the eye, not looking away for even a millisecond. “Then let us see him.”

“That’s not possible right now. He’s had an accident, “ he explains.

Her heart stops beating in her chest. “Accident?”

“Yes. He’s been injured.”

“How?” Safiya juts in. This is a hospital. How do you let your own patients get hurt in here?

“It’s frankly a mystery. I asked him but...” He doesn’t finish his sentence.

“It’s Stephanie. It has to be.” Rosanna turns back to Safiya. “We can’t let Steph know we’re here. She’ll know what we’re up to and try to stop us.”

Matthew’s therapist groans. “For the last time, ghosts don’t exist. If they did, don't you think everyone would’ve known by now?”

The lights begin flickering, crackling with electricity as the goosebumps on Rosanna’s skin raise. The air goes cold, seeping through her skin and freezing her to the bone. The two hunters stand back to back, eyes darting around the room for any sign of movement beyond Matthew’s therapist who’s eyeing them suspiciously.

“Please, you guys, “ he says. “There’s no such thing as--”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence as he’s sent flying into a wall by an invisible force. He screams out in pain as his back goes slamming into the hard wood. Rosanna and Safiya whip around to face the direction of whatever that force was and comes face to face with a woman. And she would have been a gorgeous woman, Rosanna is sure of it, if it weren’t for the fact that her eyes have been completely sunk away, only two empty sockets in their place, her peeling skin revealing muscle and even bones from where flesh had fallen away. Her neck seems as if it was twisted and someone had made a poor attempt to reset it, her skin stretched out in awkward places. Half of her face has fallen away, but the other half still present is pulled down into a deep scowl.

Is that--

She raises her left hand, Rosanna catching a small glimpse of her wedding ring before a part of a drawer slides out and shoots directly for her head. She ducks, the drawer hitting against the metal cross-hatching that acts as a window between the accountant and any others outside. Rosanna, considering that she’s already low on the ground, falls to her knees over to where Matthew’s therapist is, resting against the wall in pain.

She places a hand on his shoulder. “Can you stand?”

He nods his head, face screwed up in pain but flashes her a grin anyway. “It’s gonna take a lot more than that to get rid of me.”

She helps him up to his feet, a difficult task considering her size, but she has been working out and now it’s paying off. Safiya stands face to face with the spirit, distracting it by throwing papers and files at her. They retaliate by bringing a hand up, pointing towards the shelf before bringing her hand down along with the shelf. Matthew’s therapist, despite the aching in his back he must feel, rushes forward, clasps her by the arm and yanks her back, the shelf falling on the ground with a loud ‘thunk’.

The door swings open, and suddenly Chris is standing there, eyes locked onto the ghost in shock before he shakes his head and points a thumb over his shoulder. “Everybody get out, go, go, go!”

Safiya wastes no time sprinting out, Matthew’s therapist and Rosanna following behind. As she’s one step away from exiting she feels a course hand grab her by the hair and forces her back inside. Everyone holds onto her arms and pulls forward against the spirit, Safiya wrapping her arms around Rosanna’s neck and heaving back with all her might. The spirit loses her grip, tearing a chunk of brunette hair out with her as she stumbles back. The two hunters and co. all bolt down the hallway, past all of the doctors and nurses who are only now just arriving on the scene hearing all the commotion.

They stop in the middle of another hallway at some point winded, trying to catch their breath. As everyone takes a moment to recuperate, Chris leans his back against the wall and laughs. “So I’m not crazy after all.”

“My job just got a whole lot harder, “ is the therapist’s take on it.

“Hey, “ Rosanna gestures to him, giving him a small smile. “We never got your name.”

He doesn’t bother looking at her, just waving her off. “Jason.”

“Now can you tell us where Matthew is and what happened to him?” Safiya inquires, striding up to the two.

“Fine, “ Jason begins, Chris coming over from his side of the wall to listen in to. Chris is also Matthew’s friend apparently. “He was just in the restrooms, that’s when the janitor heard the sound of glass shattering. When he rushed in he found Matthew on the floor bleeding, above him one of the mirrors broken. We thought it was just his hallucinations so we sent him to the waiting room to be treated but…” He swallows. “That… ghost we saw. If that was Stephanie then what he told me was true; he really was thrown into the wall.”

Stephanie. Why would she want Matthew dead? It doesn’t make any sense, not to Rosanna, but spirits aren’t exactly thinking straight, are they?

Jason begins to make his way down the hallway, ignoring the strange looks of all the people who pass by, gesturing to the group to follow him. “Follow me. I know where Matthew is being kept. I can get the keys too.”

And so they follow Jason’s lead through hallways lined with many doors until they reach a section into another ward. He at one point tells them all to wait before a door, Jason slipping inside and two minutes later coming out, twirling a key between his fingers.

“Thank you so much, “ Safiya says, giving Jason a grateful smirk. “This may sound weird, but do you have anything here that’s iron?”

Jason scoffs at her. “Weird? I just found out that ghosts exist.” He shifts his weight onto another foot thinking. “I mean, we have cast-iron skillets in the kitchen if that’s what you need.”

Safiya nods thoughtfully. “That might work. Thanks.”

First, they make a stop by the kitchen, Jason, being a doctor and having access. He sneaks out a skillet that he hid in his overcoat, a wan smile on his lips. “Sorry. Could only sneak out one.”

Rosanna takes it, the coolness feeling nice against her clammy hands. “It’s okay. One will do.” Jason also snuck out a large bag that they could carry it in so that they don’t draw attention to themselves. Such things aren’t allowed out of their respective location because they can be used as a weapon, Jason explained.

They continue down another hallway, the further down they go the less welcoming the place becomes. The walls bare, barely any colour whatsoever, along with rooms that don’t look too welcoming. Jason halts in front of a door at the very end, about to insert the key in the lock until suddenly a booming voice startles them all.

They all spin around to face a man who Rosanna recognises as the accountant that left his place behind the counter, the room where all those files where.

“Excuse me, Dr Parker, “ and Jason cringes at the formalities of the man. “But I heard that one of your patients had broken into my office and completely wrecked it.” His eyes dart from Rosanna, Safiya then to Chris. “So which one of you did it, huh?”

Rosanna is seconds away from panicking because they are so close. Matthew is literally right behind that door. They’re moments away from waking him up from his dream and now the only thing that stands in there way is this man. She doesn’t know what to say, but thankfully Chris steps forward.

“I did it.”

Rosanna’s eyes go wide and she wants to protest. He shouldn’t be taking the blame for something they did. But she stops herself. It doesn’t matter because this isn’t real. She almost forgot that.

The man huffs. “Widin.” His eyes lock onto Rosanna and Safiya. “And where they apart of this too?”

“No, “ Chris lies. “Just me. I… I just got angry. And I needed an outlet.”

The man sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know there is a multitude of activities you could have participated in instead of being destructive. Unfortunately, now I have no choice but for you to come with me.” He looks over at Jason. “I hope you understand, Dr Parker.”

“Of course.”

The man turns around and starts marching away, chin up and all pretentious like. Chris trudging away looks over his shoulder and smiles at Rosanna. “Good luck, newbie.”

She waves back. Chris is pretty cool.

As soon as the man and Chris turn the corner, the three remaining turn back towards the door immediately. Jason inserts the key, twists, then pulls it out. His hand reaches for the handle and pushes forward, the door opening with a slight creak.

We’re here, Matt.

And the air goes cold.

Chapter Text

Matthew sits on the edge of his bed, rubbing his arms trying to warm up. It’s so goddamn cold and the hospital gown he’s swearing isn’t doing him any favours. Even the mattress he sits on is cold, there being no blankets or even those thin covered. His eyes travel from bare wall to bare wall, tapping his foot against the ground in boredom. He hates it in here. It’s a completely vacant room, the only thing being this tiny bed. They call it the waiting rooms, though it’s more like a prison cell.

He curls in on himself. He should have seen this coming. It was only a matter of time before he fucked up again. And now here he is, scared, cold and alone. And in pain. Thank God there was nothing severe, no deep cuts from the glass, but he has heavy bruising on his back and the small cuts that do exist sting every time he moves his back in certain ways. He has to be very slow with his movement. He can’t run. Can’t hide. Certainly not in this place. It’s small, which he’s usually fine with, he had no problem being in closests, but now he can’t help but feel claustrophobic. The walls are shifting closer to him, threatening to crush him, depriving him of oxygen. And he has to spend days here, only one doctor coming in regularly in short visits to check on his wounds.

Running a hand through his hair, he leans forward very slowly, holding his forehead in his hand while he thinks about all the choices he’s made. The choices that others have made. How the hell did he end up here again?

✞✟✞✟✞✟✞✟✞

“Ah, Mr Patrick, I’m glad to see you’re awake.”

Matthew tears his gaze away from the sky and looks towards the entrance of his room, finding a nurse bringing in his breakfast. He glances over at the clock on the wall. Seven Thirty-one. Had he really been staring at nothing for that long?

He takes the tray, resting it carefully on his lap. By now he’s grown familiar with each injury to his body from the crash. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t mention the fact that the only reason he’s awake right now is because he didn’t sleep last night, so she smiles warmly at him and exits the room.

He just stares at his food, examining it and poking at it with his fork. He’s not really hungry. He hasn’t been since he got here. Some of the nurses and doctors get upset with him not eating, but he just hasn’t got the will to actually bite down into food, chew it up then swallow it. It seems like such an effort now. So he just leans back in his bed and lets his head sink into his pillow. His fingers reach towards the stitches on his left eyebrow, carefully glossing over them as to not flare up any pain. He’s going to be here for weeks. That’s what he was told anyway.

The same nurse knocks at his door, to which Matthew raises his voice slightly so that she can hear him behind the door. Hearing his consent to enter, she lets herself in, the same warm smiling faltering as his untouched tray comes into view.

“Not hungry again?” She asks with a slight pout.

Matthew nods. “Not hungry again.”

She sighs and hesitantly takes the tray away. She’s already tried to convince Matthew to try and eat and sleep more, but by now she knows that just isn’t happening. “Make sure you get something in your stomach by morning tea. You’re getting thin.”

She waves at him as she leaves, Matthew waving back at her as the door closes. Now he’s back to staring out a window. He’s felt the urge to cry recently, to just find some sort of release from all the pent up negative energy, but the tears never come. It’s a frustrating feeling and he’s felt it many times before in his life, but never to this degree. He feels cold. And no matter how much he tucks himself into the warmth of the blankets he only feels older.

He sighs and sinks further into the bed, closing his tired eyes. He massages the bridge of his nose, trying to relieve tension that has built up from another restless night. The doctors notice how exhausted he is, so it’s no secret that he isn’t really been sleeping well. They brought in a psychiatrist, just to be interviewed, that’s all. He told her a few things, about his insomnia and nightmares, lack of appetite, and overall lack of will to do anything, unmotivated.

He’s ruled it down to one obvious thing. You don’t need to have a degree in psychology to figure it out (though funny enough he does. That, and neuroscience).

It’s grief.

He’s a grieving man. A grieving widower.

He fidgets with the wedding ring on his finger, twisting it as he thinks about her. He can’t seem to get her out of his head. Well, she was always on his mind, her named seared into his very soul, but it’s the accident he can’t seem to block out. All the arguments. All the regrets. All the times he didn’t say I love you. No matter how many times you say it, you can never really say it enough, can you?

And now she’s gone. He was convinced that they were going to stay together, probably start a small family, and just be there for each other. He doesn’t want to be alone as he grows old, doesn’t want to be alone as he slowly fades away. That’s how everyone deserves to leave this world, right? To live long, filling and happy lives. Of course, they do, and especially her. For her life to be cut short because of one stupid decision…

Matthew pulls the blankets up closer to her chest, desperately trying to get warm as the air around him turns freezing cold. Jesus, did someone decide to turn on the air conditioner on this chilly day? He can even see his own breath, frost slowly creeping up the window and forming a thin sheen of ice. The electricity begins to cackle, lights in his room flickering, the display of the heart monitor hooked up to his arm spazzing out, Matthew scrunching his eyebrows in concern. Was there an electrical problem in his room? Are other patients experiencing this--

“...Matthew.”

He jolts right up, wincing as he feels his ribs scream in protest. It was only a faint whisper, but he heard it. His name being called out by a familiar voice. Her voice. He wildly looks around, searching for any traces of life in the room but there’s no one besides himself.

The lights stop blinking and he feels the room grows warmer, the sudden coldness now evaporating. His heart is beating oddly fast in his chest. He heard her voice. He swears he did. But she isn’t here. She’s gone. The doctors couldn’t revive her. He rubs his eyes and forced himself to take deep breaths. The sleep deprivation must be catching up to him, that what it is. He’s just tired. He’s barely slept at all. His mind is playing cruel tricks on him.

He looks down at his hands. His skin is pale. He’s far too shaky. But he closes his eyes and rests his head. It’s just another bad day.

✞✟✞✟✞✟✞✟✞

Matthew was released from the hospital a few days ago.

His major injuries have all healed, leaving only some minor scarring from any broken shards of glass that had cut into his skin. His house was painfully quiet as he first steps foot inside. He wasn’t sure if he could do it; sleep in his own bed that he shared with her. So he stayed in the guest room for that first night. But he thought things would get better. That he’s already hit his low, that things will start looking up.

But the coldness and electrical problems followed him home. It was strange but thought nothing of it, paying an electrician to fix the issue, but that was only the tip of the iceberg.

He was in the bathroom brushing his teeth and washing his face. He tilted his head down to spit in the sink, turning on the cold water to clean his mouth. He takes the cloth on a hook installed on the wall and dries his face, glancing upwards and then he froze.

He blinked, squeezing his eyes shut. But she was still there standing behind him.

He pivots on his heels, looking at her face to face. Her skin was pale. Her hair messy and matted against her forehead and cheeks. There was part of her skin was either cut or bruised, all injuries from the crash. But her neck was odd. It seemed twisted almost, even if her head was facing the correct direction.

She takes a step closer and Matthew instinctually takes a step back, hands reaching for the sink behind him. She gives him a strange look, Matthew unable to read her emotions in his terrified state. This shouldn’t be happening. He’s dreaming.

She’s dead.

She’s dead.

She’s--

--lifting her hand up, cupping his cheek in one hand.

Her touch is ice cold.

Matthew flinches away from it, but she keeps her eyes locked on his. He’s trembling, barely able to keep himself standing, legs about to give way under his own weight. He can’t breathe, his lungs just sitting there is his chest, a useless pair of muscles.

“Why are you afraid?”

The question hits Matthew between the eyes. He blinks rapidly, his brain trying to make sense of everything. His entire world is spinning uncontrollably. He tries to open his mouth but no noise makes its way past his lips.

She strokes a thumb under his cheek. “Why are you afraid, Matthew?”

And this time he laughs breathlessly, just because of the pure ridiculousness of it. His dead wife is literally standing right before him, asking why he’s scared.

“Because you--” he stumbles over his own words. “Because you died. You shouldn’t be here right now.”

Her gaze softens. “I remember. Yet here I am.”

Matthew takes her cold hand in his, gently moving it away from his face. As he takes both of her ghostly hands in his, he squeezes them tight. He’s startled by how real her skin feels. There’s no way that this is a dream. “Isn’t there a heaven of some kind? A place where you can go to rest?”

“Yes, but…” She looks down to the tiled floor. “I just couldn’t. Not without you.”

Oh. “What does that mean for you?”

“I…” She looks at him, and now Matthew sees that she’s now the scared one. “I don’t know.”

He intertwines his fingers with hers. “We’ll figure this out together, alright?”

“Alright.” And with that, she turns to mist in his hands.

God, what the hell is he doing?

✞✟✞✟✞✟✞✟✞

Matthew can’t believe he’s sharing his home once again with his wife again. Many would call it a miracle that she’s back in his arms, back in his life once more, but things are very different. Of course, they’d be if your wife was a literal spirit.

He’s sitting on the couch playing Mario Maker, not having picked up the game since he got back from the hospital a little over a week ago. He keeps himself tucked into the side of the couch, leaning his side on the armrest and legs half-tucked underneath him, a leaning kneel if you will. And she’s behind him, lazily watching him play his game while running her freezing hands into his hair.

She’s been getting paler day by day. She’s also been acting… weird. Not her usual self. She seems more alert and wary of anyone who talks to Matthew. She seems to be watching him, always, feeling her gaze on the back of his neck wherever he goes. Even if she isn’t visible, he feels her presence dragged along with him, bound together by a red string. But that string has been feeling more like a chain lately.

This is wrong.

She shouldn’t be here.

What dies should stay dead, as much as it hurts to admit it.

“Hey, I’ve been thinking… “ Matthew keeps his attention on the screen but is very much aware of the coldness that’s radiating from behind him. “Do you ever think this relationship we have is, well, wrong?”

She pauses for a second, then resumes running her hand through his brunette locks. “Why would it be wrong.”

“Because you’re technically… not alive.”

Another pause, and then, “where is this coming from?”

“Nowhere, it’s just--”

“It’s just what?” Her hand pulls away from his head, taking a few steps back. “Do you… not love me anymore?”

Matthew whips his head around to look at her, seeing the pain and anger in her eyes. He ignores his game that’s still playing and sits up, giving her the most earnest look he can muster. “Of course not. I love you. Always.”

She doesn’t meet Matthew’s gaze.

“No.”

“No?”

She screws her eyes closed, fists clenched. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

“What--”

“I’m sorry.”

And she turned to mist. He hadn’t seen her for days after that.

✞✟✞✟✞✟✞✟✞

Matthew’s nightmares have been getting worse. He lays in bed, staring at the ceiling in darkness, the only light being the moon that shines through the window, illuminating his face. It had been two weeks since he’s seen his wife. Physically, at least. He can still feel her all around him, but now quietly observing everything he does. He liked it better when she would show her face, but now we’re back at square one; terrified of his own wife. He hates himself for it. He loves her and everything about her, but she’s different now. She seems… restless. Almost angry. And that rage has been growing more and more and he can feel it clogging up his chest. So he tries his best to ignore all the little things. Ignore the faulty lights. Ignore the cold. Ignore the random cups and plates sliding off the counter.

He turns over and finds his phone, opening the photo gallery and scrolling through. A few of them are random photos but most of them are of her and himself, happy, together. He scrolls through each of them, knowing that by the end of this he’ll be a complete mess but he doesn’t care. Hell, maybe he deserves it. The world certainly isn’t being unkind to him for no reason. Maybe he’s the one that should have died. Is that what life is trying to get at? Bringing her back just to prove a point that he may as well not be here if it weren’t for her death. His eyes sting as he holds his breath, opening up his messages and finding her number. He reads their last messages to each other. He can’t remember the context of them, nor does he care.

‘Matt, don’t worry about it. Really. Today is about you and me, nobody else. We can talk about it when we get home, okay?’

‘okay. sounds like a plan’
Sent May 19, 7:38 PM

But she never came home.

And that’s when the tears started to fall.

Ugly, heavy sobs racked his body, his vision blurred to the point where he can’t make out any more text messages beyond that. He lets his phone slide out of his hand and gently falls onto the mattress as he brings his hands up to his face and cries. He tries to quell is weeping but the tears keep on coming, staining the sheets. He doesn’t know how long he spends his time like that, but by the end of it, he’s sniffling, wiping the tears away from his cheeks. He must look like a wreck. His eyes are bloodshot and puffy. His face is completely red. It’s a good thing no one can see it.

He decides to crawl out of bed and makes his way to the kitchen. He desperately needs to wash the tears and snot off his face. Freshen up a bit. Have a Diet Coke. His eyes need to readjust to the darkness but he navigates his house just fine, ending up flicking on the kitchen light and leaning over the sink. He twists the faucet, splashing cold water onto his face then proceeds to open the fridge. He peers inside and is about to reach out for a can of his favourite beverage when the fridge door slams shut on its own accord.

His blood runs cold. He knows who that is.

Pivoting around one-eight, he’s met with the now slowly rotting face of his wife. The skin near her open wounds are starting to peel away, deep, purple bruises under her eyes. She looks horrible like she was horribly ill with a disease that would eat away at your flesh. She glares at him, ice cold. This is not her. This is not the woman he married. She was warm, a ray of vibrant sunshine, not a frozen barren wasteland.

“Why are you ignoring me?”

He gapes at her, speechless. What could he possibly say?

“I’m not ignoring you--”

“Liar.” She begins to slowly walk towards him, with each step she takes the colder the air turns. “You’re just a liar.”

“Please just--”

“LIAR.”

The oven-- no, half the damn kitchen explodes in flames.

Fire rockets up from inside, bursting the oven and cabinet doors open, mimicking her own rage as she continues to glare before only just processing the heat aside her. She dissipates, exploding into mist as Matthew is left all alone to fend for himself against the roaring flames that creep up the walls of the kitchen.

Electricity. She must have burst the electricity.

He covers his mouth with his hand and makes a b-line for his phone in his bedroom, dialling ‘911’. He tries to leave the house, get the hell out of this place that’s been haunting him for so long.

But just like that the bedroom door, much like the fridge, was slammed shut.

He pushed and pulled, vigorously rattling the door in an attempt to unjam it but to no avail. He’s stuck in his own room. No. No, she wouldn’t do this. She’s been acting off but she wouldn’t try to kill him, right? They loved each other. And he still loves her. He can smell the smoke rising, the temperature rising. His house has two stories, all the bedrooms located on the top floor. Because fire and smoke rises then that means--

Oh, God.

If the firefighters don’t get here soon he’s going to die.

The person on the other side of the line is trying to get him to calm down, but his breathing is already becoming ragged and it’s not even because of the smoke that’s slowly filling his room. He can hear the crackling, like the flames are laughing at his demise, mocking him, taunting him in his final moments. He backs away from the door as he coughs into his elbow, feeling waves of heat beam out through the door. He hears the distant wail of a siren, rapidly drawing closer with every second that passes. By now he’s sweating buckets. The room is so hot and the ceiling is obscured with pitch-black smoke. If he doesn’t act fast he’s going to suffocate in here. He slides the window up, trying to ventilate his room.

He hears the distant shouts of strangers and his neighbours, all flocking to the scene, gazing at the columns of smoke billowing up towards the night sky. From the window, Matthew finds three people, two men and one female rush up to his house underneath his window. He can hear there yelling, compelling him to jump so that they can catch him. He hesitates, but as soon as he gazes behind him he catches sight of fire licking underneath the door, creeping inside his bedroom. It’s starting to stretch upwards across the ceiling, spreading all around his room and towards him at a rapid pace. And yet he still finds himself frozen and useless, barely able to inhale the smoke in the air. The fire extends, reaching out to him, beckoning him to walk into the flames. If he doesn’t move now, the floor beneath him will surely collapse.

Focused on survival, he begins to crawl through his window, taking a deep breath and feeling that surge of adrenalin before taking a leap of faith and letting himself fall.

Rocketing down, he feels the touch of others as he’s now being pulled to his feet. He doesn’t even understand what’s happening. Multiple firemen rush over to him, their lips moving, but he can’t hear them. He’s pretty sure he just twisted his ankle from trying to land like a cat, but his whole body is numb. He glances over the shoulders of everyone back to his house, the roof only now erupting in flames. The second window near the one he originally jumped from bursts from the pressure, glass shards shooting out across his front lawn. He couldn’t believe how stupid he was to go back into his room when an angry spirit was following him. And even after everything, he still feels her linger around him.

And she’s not happy with him. Not in the slightest.

✞✟✞✟✞✟✞✟✞

“I didn’t set that fire.”

It was obvious, really. They just wanted to pin the blame on someone. According to the investigation conducted it wasn’t like the power just randomly decided to blow a fuse (which was complete bullshit to Matthew). It was more like a deliberate lighting. Therefore, being the only person in the house, everyone thought that Matthew had attempted briquette suicide then backed out after he set the blaze.

But Matthew will admit he is at fault for some of this blame. Maybe if he had kept his mouth shut about seeing his dead wife on a regular basis people wouldn’t have thought that he was mentally ill and he would have gotten a pass. But it slipped right out of him when talking to the officials on the case. They side glanced at each other, then one thing led to another he was being sent to a psychiatric hospital for his apparent psychotic depression (which, again, bullshit no matter how crazy it sounds. You can't just run around with a DSM and diagnose everyone you come across - or maybe he's being salty for being kept here).

“Then tell me what you think, “ Jason replies, leaning back into his chair. “What do you think caused the fire?”

Matthew mentally brainstorms a list of ideas in his head. “Could have there been some kind of gas leak maybe? Or maybe it was a crappy oven or stove?”

Jason nods, listening to each and every theory he is spewing at him. He writes them down in his journal so that he doesn’t forget anything Matthew says like all sessions. “I’ll see what I can do. It won’t be an easy task, but I can certainly try to convince them to do something.”

Having Jason around was a blessing. Even if he always wore his usual grey t-shirt and black pants, sometimes coming to work with his red sweater and overcoat, and could be a little weird sometimes, he felt understood. The first appointment he was dead silent, too afraid to speak of her, too ashamed to admit anything to anyone. So Jason started small, talked about the little things, his interests, hobbies, things like that. It was all about taking those steps.

The psychotherapist glances at the clock on the wall and huffs. “Our time’s up for today. Take care of yourself, okay?”

“Okay, “ Matthew nods.

Easy enough.

He stands and leaves, saying his goodbyes to Jason on the way out. On his way to the main ward, he slips inside the men’s restrooms and decides to freshen up. Washing his hands, he feels his skin freeze as the air goes cold. The lights blink furiously, Matthew being able to hear the buzzing electricity go wild at her presence.

He doesn’t want to do this anymore.

He just wants a new home. A place to stay. To feel safe.

But he can’t get out of here. They refuse to let him stay with a friend or parent. They said he was a danger to himself and others.

He’s got to be the unluckiest man alive.

As soon as he spins around he bolts towards the door, not even bothering to spare her a glance. He just can’t deal with it. Not right now. He wants this to be over. He’s so tired, exhausted, just wants to lie down and rest. But a familiar invisible force sends him catapulting backwards, his side slamming into a mirror and causing it to shatter. Pain erupts in his side, Matthew pushing a hand up his shirt to feel his side and feeling blood. He turns to face her, the spirit towering over him.

“You left me…” She spits at him, her words filled with spite, hate and pain. Her face is contorted with heartbreak, her voice soft from grief.

She takes a step forward and Matthew flinches back involuntarily, pressing his back up against the wall. He’s all alone. He’s going to die. He’s going to die and it’s going to be by the hands of his own wife.

“I-”

“Don’t talk to me, Matthew. I just--” her breath hitches. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t fight it.”

Matthew furrow’s his eyebrows. “Fight what?”

She raises her hand and clutches for forehead, cringing in… pain? Matthew can’t get his brain to function, fight or flight rattling any sensible thoughts out of his head. She sucks in a lungful of air between her teeth, hissing as she grasps the side of her head, her fingers digging into her unkempt hair. She stumbles back, her eyes locking onto Matthew, fury hidden behind her rather calm face. He braces himself for the worst, shielding his face with his arms, but then the bathroom door swings open and an unfamiliar man runs it, swinging an iron crowbar at her with all his might. As soon as the crowbar comes into contact her form collapses, turning into shimmering mist.

Matthew just sits there, bewildered.

“Who-- What--” He takes a deep breath. “Who the hell are you?”

He holds out his hand to him. “Joey. I heard about the suspicious circumstances of your house and came to save you.”

He takes his stand, Joey hoisting him up from the ground. “Save me?”

They both hear footsteps at his door, Joey muttering a curse under his breath. “Hey, I have to go. But I’m coming back for you, alright? Just sit tight.”

He does the best he can to hide the crowbar in his tawny brown trench coat, making his way out of the bathroom leaving Matthew to wonder what the hell is going on. Who is that man?

Save him?

His head hurts. 

✞✟✞✟✞✟✞✟✞

After that, they had sent him to the waiting room, of course. They thought he was having a psychotic episode and decided that he needed some alone time to cool down so that he doesn’t get hurt any further. The staff is trained in first aid, so his injuries weren’t an issue. He’s definitely had worse. But the difference between now and then was that Joey came back for him, busted down his door and helped him through his shit.

But now he has no one.

He’s all alone as he sits there in solitude, wishing for a familiar face to come and visit him. Check up on him. See if he’s doing okay. Maybe even have a small conversation if he’s lucky. He hates this room. He hates everything about it. It’s not like any Hollywood movies where he’s in a straight jacket, losing his mind as he curls up in a corner, resting his head against padded walls. It’s just a normal room with absolutely nothing but a bed and he resents it.

The sound of footsteps draws his attention to his door, the second most interesting thing in this room, and listens. Multiple pairs are coming closer to him. Then they stop, there’s a brief conversation and even though their words don’t make it through the walls, Matthew can tell that there is a combination of both males and females. As soon as the talking is over, there are more footsteps, less than before but moving away. He lies down, legs dangling off the side and huffs, thinking no one is coming back for him. He’s all alone. But then he hears the lock on the door jiggle and he shoots up, eyes fixated on the now turning lock.

He hears a faint ‘click’. The door pops open, slowly creaking as three figures make themselves visible. He instantly recognises the tired face of Jason along with two other strangers.

The shortest one, big round eyes and long wavy hair slips inside. “Matt! Matt, we’re here.”

She reaches out towards him, Matthew only a second away from asking how she knows him, but the only light in his room bursts and she’s flung backward, falling onto the smooth floor and skidding against the ground. The other stranger immediately flocks to her side, crouching down beside her and taking her by the hand to help her up.

Matthew springs out of bed and makes a start towards the door, Jason beckoning him out with a look of panic at the sudden commotion. He’s almost there, reaching forward, just a little closer, but with a deafening slam, darkness consumes his room as the door closes itself. He crashes against it, pounding furiously and just screaming as loud as he can for someone. He doesn’t care who it is. He just wants to be out of this damn room.

He doesn’t care.

Just get him out.

His nails are digging into the palms of his hands drawing blood but he just doesn’t care. He’s banging on the door so hard his hands will surely bruise but he just doesn’t care.

He hits the door with all his might, hearing sounds from the other side as he crumples, sliding down the door onto the hard floor. A sob tears out of him, pressing his back flat against it, tilting his head to look up and closes his eyes, just shakily breathing. Drowning out everything.

But a familiar crackling of fire pricks his ears, eyes slowly fluttering open, his world is filled with red light and embers. The flames lick the walls, crawling closer and closer towards him.

“You left me.”

He knows. He’s so selfish and he’s sorry.

He knows he doesn’t deserve forgiveness.

Three columns of fire rocket towards the ceiling before him, Matthew feeling the intense heat burning his skin even from a distance, the smoke slowly filling his lungs. Three, charcoal black silhouettes materialise in the inferno, all staring him down with fire blazing in their eye sockets. The one to the left steps forward out from the heat, long, ashen hair swept over a shoulder, skin having been burnt away revealing numerous bones covered in a thick layer of melted flesh and soot. Smoke trickles out the corners of her mouth, lips pulled into a frown.

“We could have been happy, “ she rasps, Matthew gaping in horror being able to witness the charred muscles in her throat and jaw expand and contract.

The figure on the far-right drags itself out of the fire as well, a huge, empty hole where their stomach should be. They’re in the same condition as she’s in, burning away, fire in their eyes roaring in anger as they scowl at him with scorched lips.

“You were such a bother to me, pathetic, like all my clients, “ and Matthew can’t help but flinch away at the sound of hearing Jason’s voice, low and guttural from lacking much of a voice box. “You’re in-fucking-sane, Matthew. Everyone sees how much of a freak you really are. Never did fit in, did you? Always trying to be the centre of attention. You just loved it when all eyes were on you. And now the whole world is watching, silently judging you. Is this what you wanted?”

Matthew silently shakes his head.

No.

He remembers his theatre days. He always had a smile back then.

The final figure that was watching him intently steps towards him, embers seeping out of their flesh. But this one is different. This one almost seems sad, a stark contrast to the others.

“What happened to us?”

And Matthew just stops breathing, not because of the ash and smog clogging up with airways, but because that voice belongs to him. Younger, yes, but definitely him.

He continues, taking another step forward, a clump of flesh that was sagging off his ribs falling to the floor with a sizzle. “We were a good son. A good husband. A good man. Why did you mess it up? We could have been happy.”

He glances down at his sweaty hands. Happiness. Does he deserve it?

He presses the back of his head against the door, and only now does he feel the rattling from the ruckus from the outside, hearing voices call out to him.

“Matthew!” It’s that same girl again. “Matthew please, this isn’t real. This is a dream and you need to wake up.”

Another voice sounds through the door, not one he recognises, the other, taller girl perhaps. “You have to fight this, Matthew. You need to wake up before it’s too late.”

Wake up? He almost laughs. His nightmares are a paradise compared to this.

“Matthew, listen to me.” It’s Jason, the real Jason, not his hellish counterpart that’s snarling before him. “I-I… I don’t understand what’s going on right now, but whatever this is, you can survive it. You’ve been through so much, gone through hell, yet you’re still here with us. You are alive. Remember who your friends are.”

And at that moment everything comes back to Matthew in a stream of colours.

'Dear Matthew, ' and he cringes because he can tell just by that starting sentence Joey doesn't know him well.

It’s enough to make him gasp in shock.

Rosanna suddenly speaks up. “Hey, Matt.”

Matthew shifts in his seat so he’s facing the petite girl. “Yeah?”

“We’re friends, right?” She asks, looking down at her lap.

“Yeah, “ he says again, only this time slower.

“Then I want you to promise me- “ she takes his hands in hers and looks at him in the eyes. “ -Promise me that when you are struggling, you ask me for help.”

It’s blinding.

“You with us man?” Roi asks, scanning the other man’s face for any sign of distress. “Do you wanna sit this lesson out?”

But Matthew raises his hands up in defence. “No, no! Keep on going. Sorry, my mind just wandered off. I had a rough night.”

“Oof, that’ll do it, “ JC remarks. “Get some sleep dude.”

Matthew scoffs. “Oh, trust me, I’ve tried.”

Overwhelming.

A hand intertwines with his, it’s warmth snapping him back to the present. “It’s going to be okay Matthew. We’ll take him down together.”

He squeezes Rosanna’s hand tight and nods. “Right.”

Some happy.

Then, he speaks, his voice small and soft. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, “ she smiles warmly at him.

Some sad.

He can’t move.

He can’t breathe.

He can’t think.

All there it is JC’s body lied down on the altar, blood running down his arms and dripping off his fingertips creating a small puddle.

But he remembers who his friends are.

“Ro? Saf?” His voice is tiny. He’s not even sure they heard him.

But the response is immediate.

“Matt! Matt, it’s us!”

And now he’s filled with courage. Is he scared? Oh, to death. But there’s a glimmer of hope in hearing his friends through the door. He understands now. This isn’t real. It’s just another one of his nightmares.

He slowly stands, using the wall behind him for support not trusting his quivering knees. He walks towards the silhouettes, ignoring the heat of the fire that seems to roar aggressively towards him personally, a threat almost. He ignores the charred clone of himself and Jason, making his way towards his wife. He somehow, but not surprisingly, remembers every word he said that night Joey saved him from her.

“Stephanie.”

The fire around her feet and on her shoulders and caught in her hair suddenly flare up, seemingly offended at hearing her name pass his lips. Yet, he continues, reenacting exactly what he did before and cupping her right cheek with his hand. Even as her burning charcoal flesh seers his hand, he keeps his composure, gazing directly into her eyes.

“Stephanie, listen to me. Please.” The pain in his hand grows. You’d think it wouldn’t hurt because it’s a dream, all inside his head, but the pain is hot, white and so, so real. “I love you. God, I love you so much. I would do anything to get you back but…”

“Then come with me, “ she rebuttals, exactly what she said before as well. “We don’t have to live separately. We can be together again.”

He raises his left hand and begins cupping her other cheek. It’s worse with the other hand because it heats up his ring, his skin melting around the silver band on his finger. However, he draws himself closer.

“It’s not my time yet.”

“Matthew--”

“Stephanie.”

He presses his head against her forehead, singeing the very edge of his fringe. He closes his eyes, seeing the memory so vividly like the fire that’s crackling around him. “You mean everything to me. But this isn’t you. You staying here as a spirit… It’s changing you.”

Stephanie clasps his wrists. “Changing me.”

“Yes, “ Matthew breathes, the pain causing him to tremble. “But I know you can fight this. You are strong. You’re the strongest person I know.”

The flames calm, reducing to nothing more than a flicker. “I… What is this?” Matthew can now hear the fear in her voice. “What’s happening?”

Matthew gently hushes her. “It’s alright. You can fight this.”

“I…”

In that beat of silence, they kiss. He braced himself to feel the seething embers, the roughness of burnt flesh, but all he felt was warm, soft lips against his, the pain from his hands and forehead replaced with a tender cosiness. Her skin is smooth against his fingertips, the complete opposite of the coarseness he felt seconds ago. He allows his eyes to open, staring in awe at the small flames that dance delicately on their skin. It doesn’t burn. It’s not violent. If fire could somehow act solemn, then this is it.

“God, I’m so sorry.” Her voice is filled with unshed tears. “What have I done? What--”

“Shhh… It’s okay. You didn’t know what you were doing.”

The fire has almost completely died down, the two silhouettes now crumbling to a pile of ash and cinders with no fire to breathe them life anymore. There’s more silence. Even the yelling from behind the door has stopped, his friends most likely waiting in anticipation.

“Stephanie. I love you, “ Matthew says, taking her hands in his and squeezing them. “You have to let go.”

For the entire time, he had been scared of her. But now he sees that was only fueling the corruption that creeps into the soul of every spirit. In reality, it was all him. It was his fault.

She nods. “I love you.”

And he smiles. “I love you too. I’ll always be waiting.”

Her form begins to shimmer with a brilliant, white light, illuminating the waiting room once more. She begins to fade away, very slowly, becoming less and less tangible, Matthew feeling the grip he has on her dissolving. Her form becomes so bright Matthew is barely able to keep his eyes open, keeping his gaze fixated on her being the equivalent of staring at the sun. But he didn’t care if he went blind. It was the last time he was ever going to see her again in the living world.

The light bursts into glitter like falling stardust, her form no longer material. She’s gone now. She’s finally moved on.

And now it’s time for him to do so as well.

The door opened, slamming against the wall when two flashes suddenly rush in and wrap their arms around Matthew’s chest. His breath is knocked out of him, almost falling to the floor but staying upright when Rosanna and Safiya pull him close.

Rosanna is sobbing, tears of relief rolling down her cheeks and she just rambles on to him about how much she loves him, how important he is to her. Safiya isn’t as much of a mess as her best friend is, but a few tears still manage to fall despite her best efforts to compose herself.

“Matt, “ Rosanna sniffles, wiping tears away from her flushed cheeks. “Are you ready to wake up?”

Matthew looks to her, then over her head to Jason standing in the doorway. He seems confused, not quite sure of what’s going on, but nods his head anyways.

Matthew grins at them. “Yeah. Yeah, I wanna go home now.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath, then opening them and jerking up from his bed breathing hard. In mere milliseconds Rosanna and Safiya are by his side again, as if they never left in the first place. Glancing over at the now unoccupied chairs he realises they didn’t. They never left him. They stayed right there with him.

By now the whole team is swarming him, minus Nikita he notes but shrugs it off. He finds Joey amongst them and sighs.

“I’m sorry. For what I said. I should have thanked you.”

Joey raises an eyebrow, but his face drops as he realises what he was talking about. He nods. “It’s okay, Matt.”

✞✟✞✟✞✟✞✟✞

On the ground, weeping into his hands, Joey tries to get close, reaching a hand out towards Matthew.

“Matthew, I--”

“Shut up.”

Joey doesn’t give up, shuffling closer and closer to his trembling form, getting low on his knees to match his height. “Matthew--”

“Get out!” He screams, voice wreaked with pain and sorrow, head still in hands as he just sits on his legs and cries. “Leave me alone. Now.”

Joey raises to his feet, dipping his head in understanding. No one is in the right state of mind after having to watch the one you love leave. Again.

He lifts his leg through the open window of his room at the psychiatric hospital, crawling through without an issue and closing it behind him. Matthew isn’t the first widower he’s dealt with, and he certainly won’t be the last. He wonders how he’ll fare in this new world that has opened up to him, a world filled with no much horror, not that Matthew hasn’t seen most of it already. He hopes he can get back on his feet, get discharged from the hospital, find a new home to stay him (Joey knows about the fire. It’s what drew him to his case in the first place).

As he creeps along the brick wall outside, he finds Alex waiting by their car borrowed from SAE headquarters.

Alex smirks at him. “Glad to see you made it out of there alive.”

“Yeah.” Joey walks past him, taking his place in the passenger seat. “Let's just get out of here now.”

Alex frowns at him, sensing that something is amiss but crawls into the driver’s seat and hits the gas. As they move further away, Joey can’t help but look back and pray for Matthew. He almost finds it funny. He never was a religious man. But Matthew needs it. Maybe more than others.

✞✟✞✟✞✟✞✟✞

A weight has now been lifted from Matthew’s shoulders. The barrier that lies between the two hunters is finally beginning to crack with Matthew finally having the courage to seek forgiveness. He still has a long way to go, but he can only continue to heal from now on forward. And with Rosanna and Safiya, everyone, by his side he knows for a fact that he isn't alone, no matter how lonely he may feel.

Safiya is quick on his case. "Don't ever scare us like that ever again. When you find a case run it by me next time." She pauses, then quickly adds, "But don't blame yourself. This isn't your fault."

"Oh, I don't blame me, " He says while smirking. "I blame Jason."

Only Rosanna and Safiya find it slightly humorous, but even they don't fully understand what's so funny. But that's fine. It was an inside joke between him and Jason. 

Mortimer observes them, searching for any wounds. None. Though Matthew feels a slight tingle in his hands and forehead from when he was literally burning. but everyone is awake now. The team is back together once more. He finds himself fidgeting with his wedding ring, bringing it close and kissing it. 

He’ll wait. The world has become his waiting room, but if it’s for Stephanie, he doesn’t mind. He’ll wait forever if he has to.

Chapter Text

Joey can’t help but keep thinking back two days ago, when Manny, Matthew and Roi were stuck in their own nightmares.

He remembers Manny’s so clearly and ponders the implications of it, wondering what it all meant, why Nikita was possessed as a demon, why any of it happened really. Nightmares pray on your deepest fear, Joey knows that well. Perhaps, Manny isn’t all that fearless as he appears to be. Maybe ‘fearless’ is just a false and naive way of denying the fact that everyone does have that weakness in them. Maybe we’re not as strong as we think ourselves to be. And our pride hates that, resents it, to the point where it could end up killing you. Despite every monster, every demon that walks the earth, pride must be the number one hunter-killer.

He walks through the hallway of the Divine Lounge. He’s already checked Manny’s room but didn’t find him there. He must be in the kitchen having breakfast. Joey can’t say he’s not getting hungry either, he did wake up a few moments ago. Not many are up, only being him, Manny (probably) and Matthew. The rest must still be exhausted, Roi and Teala never leaving each others side, Colleen constantly checking on the pair, and Rosanna, as well as Safiya, researching nonstop with Matthew. Nikita is barely around.

That’s why Joey wants to speak with Manny.

So he slips into the kitchen and finds Manny eating. It was nothing special, just some plain toast (because someone forgot to do the shopping Colleen) but was all by his lonesome, when usually Nikita accompanied him.

Joey goes into the kitchen pantry, finds his favourite cereal and pours himself a bowl with some milk, sitting across from Manny. He takes a bite, an awkward silence between the two before Joey sighs.

No response.

Joey sighs even louder.

Manny looks up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

“I’m so glad you asked, “ Joey says, folding his arms. “So. What’s going on with you and Nikita?”

Now it’s Manny’s turn to sigh. “Why does this matter exactly?”

“Because you two are best friends. You guys never spend time apart.” It’s true. They do everything together. Those two have a bond like no other from the time they’ve spent hunting monsters. When you find a partner in monster hunting you tend to gravitate towards them until finally, you’re joint at the hip. Is it co-dependent? Yeah, but you love your partner so you make it work. That’s why hunters willingly spend time apart from their partner, it means something is amiss.

“So?” Manny returns to his toast. “Sometimes people need that time apart.”

“And why would that be?”

Manny doesn’t reply, exasperatedly taking another bite out of his toast.

Joey spoons another mouthful of cereal into his mouth, dismayed at the fact that his cereal has now gone soggy. He huffs and stands, slamming both hands on the kitchen table.

“That’s it.”

Manny gives him an incredulous look. “What’s it?”

“We’re going on a hunt. You, me, and…”

At that exact moment, Matthew comes in, heading straight for the fridge for a can of Coke.

“Matthew.”

The older man glances over at him curiously, surprised at the mention of his name. “What?”

Manny buries his head in his hands. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Come on, I’d be fun. Like old times.” Joey misses the days before it all happened before he got that damned letter from the SAE. He used to go on hunts with Nikita and Manny, not very often, but he’s had a good time with them nonetheless. They were like no others. Even when having a horrible job like this one, they could joke around. They weren’t as serious unlike many hunters, which was a huge relief to Joey. They reminded him of team Victorian.

Manny sits there, chewing on toast, then swallowing. “Do you even have a case?”

Joey shifts his weight on one foot and thinks before looking over his shoulder at a confused Matthew. “Do we have a case?”

“I mean, yeah, we have plenty, why--”

“Then that settles it, “ Joey interrupts. “Us three are going on a hunt and there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it.”

But Manny doesn’t look too impressed. “Joey, I love you and all, but you are such a bitch sometimes.”

Joey pretends to flip invisible, long hair over his shoulder with a smug expression on his face. “I know.”

✞✟✞✟✞✟✞✟✞

Joey drives in the front seat, Manny and Matthew in the seats behind him. Manny just lazily stares out a window while Matthew focuses on his research, reading up on articles about recent incidents. They had many cases to choose from since while searching for lieutenants Safiya and Matthew tend to stumble upon other accidents that aren’t related to demons in any way. They file all the information away just in case someone wants to hunt, which is understandable in such circumstances. You have no idea how much of a stress reliever decapitating a vampire is.

But the case Joey chose seems to be a vengeful spirit. A very territorial vengeful spirit. It’s been haunting a small house since around the early 1920s, targeting and killing whoever lived there. The most recent was a single man looking to get settled in with his new job but was murdered a few days ago while sleeping, all windows and doors locked with no signs of forced entry. Because of the murders, the value of the property has dropped, but that’s why people keep moving in. It’s cheap. People don’t understand the implications like hunters do.

The town is an hour away from the Divine Lounge, but they still have plenty of time in the day, the sun barely just midway in the sky at this point. People are bustling about, the radio in the car is playing catchy 70s tunes, some familiar (to which Matthew hums along too) and some unfamiliar. They eventually pull up at a motel, the three boys checking in and each having their own rooms. They don’t bother unpacking anything, they didn’t even bring much in the first place, just some clothes to change into in case things get a bit bloody.

Matthew takes his folder of whatever information he’s collected and begins reading over it one last time, drinking in every detail of the case while Joey and Manny begin to change into their FBI getups in their own separate rooms. It’s somewhat unusual to see Manny without makeup this far into the day, but of course, FBI regulations and all. The suits are cheap, but they look legitimate, and that’s all that hunters need really. The harder part is deceiving, something you have to practice in your spare time because God knows if you slip up once there’s going to be a target on your back.

“So, “ Joey says, adjusting his tie. “What’s the address?”

Matthew takes out a pen and scribbles some down in his notepad, tearing out the page and handing it to Joey. “There. Also has the names and addresses of the people you probably would want to talk to, as well as the names of all the victims and other important stuff.”

Joey takes it. “Thanks.” He briefly reads through it. “...How did you find all of this out?”

“Don’t look too much into it.”

“Right.”

Joey folds the note and passes it to Manny to read, making his way out. He stands outside, waiting for Manny patiently. He definitely appears a lot more uptight, and it’s not because of the lieutenants. Something happened between Manny and Nikita after waking from his nightmare, right? When Nikita dragged him out of the room to talk, she didn’t come back inside. What was said? What could have possibly torn those two apart?

He faintly hears the voices of Matthew and Manny from inside their rooms but can’t understand their words. They’re muffled by the time they pass the walls and reach his ears. They only spend a good one or two minutes however, before Manny comes through the door, closing it behind him. Joey can’t tell what Manny’s feeling right now, his expression unreadable. He just hopes he’s okay. He clearly remembers what he saw in his dream. He can’t even begin to understand what Manny must have felt.

But they continue on, sliding inside their seats in the car and driving off. This is more of the boring part of the job, talking to people here and there, collecting information, and Joey’s never been a real big fan of it. He’s more into the part where he gets to shoot some ghosts in their faces. Now that’s much more fun. But he supposes this part of the job is necessary.

They pull up at the most recent victim's house, his brother being the one to help back all of his belongings. Casper Hensley. That was the victim's name if Joey recalls correctly. And his brother was Leonardo Hensley? He does have that note to refer back to.

Joey and Manny both glance at each other before climbing out, walking up to the front door and knocking. There could be a possibility that no one was home. That was always a bother. But thankfully he was, Leonardo opening up the door, revealing himself to be a rather tall man, though not as tall as Manny, ginger hair with small curls, pale skin, freckles splattered across his face, and wide hazel eyes with deep bruises underneath them.

“Can I help you?” He asks, his words slightly slurred from exhaustion.

Both Manny and Joey take out their fake IDs. Joey gestures to himself saying, “I’m agent Griffins, “ he then gestures to Manny, “And this is agent Hull. We’d like to talk to you for a quick moment. About your brother.”

Leonardo sighs and dips his head, stuffing his hands into his pocket. “Um, sure. Ask away.”

“Did your brother have any enemies that you know of? Someone who might have had it out for him?” Manny inquires, getting straight to business.

The brother presses his lips into a thin line. “Maybe.”

Joey and Manny glance at each other.

“Maybe?”

Leonardo sighs even louder, his whole frame slumping. “Okay, I’m going to tell you something, but you’ve gotta keep it a secret, okay?”

Joey nods. “Everything you say is confidential unless you reveal that someone may be in danger, to which we have to contact someone.”

He hesitates, staring at the ground until finally, “I think it was a hate crime.”

“Hate crime?” Manny tilts his head. “What makes you think that?”

Another pause, tension building up in Leonardo’s shoulders the longer he stands there. “Everything is confidential?”

Joey nods again. “Everything is confidential.”

A beat of silence.

“My brother… liked boys.”

Ah. That’s what it was.

Leonardo continues. “So no, I can’t think of anyone in particular. But if anyone were to find out his secret, it probably would have spread like wildfire. People around these parts aren’t very… Accepting. It could have been anyone.”

“How about any strange activity inside this house?” Manny questions further. “Any cold spots? Rats in the walls? Perhaps the lights are flickering.”

“Well, I remember my brother telling me about that stuff when he first moved in, before he… But I haven’t seen anything like that. At least, not yet.”

Hm. Interesting.

They ask a few more questions here and there, but nothing really stands out.

“Thank you for your cooperation, “ Joey says, not wanting to take up any more of Leonardo’s time. The man needs rests, and talking about his dead brother wouldn’t be doing him any favours.

The brother waves. “Stay safe out there, agents.”

The two nod their heads.

But as hunters, safety is honestly the least of their concerns. It is the nature of their job to dive headfirst into danger, guns blazing. Once you step foot into the monster’s lair it’s all about survival.

✞✟✞✟✞✟✞✟✞

They had chats here and there with other people, but the only conversation that seemed relevant was Leonardo’s. It was honestly a waste of time. Now, they’re finally arriving back at the motel with new information to give to Matthew, but it’s already around five or six in the afternoon. It gives the man some time, but by the end of it, he's going to be exhausted. There are certain things people don’t want you finding, and in the 70s it is especially harder to acquire such information, even with all the fancy gadgets they have provided by the SAE.

They burst in through the front door, ripping off their ties and sinking into separate chairs. Matthew keeps his gaze locked onto the notes in front of him, not even bothering to look at them as he speaks. “Found anything useful?”

Manny huffs, slouching in his seat. “No. The only person who told us anything at all was his brother?”

“Wanna share?”

“He says that his brother had been experiencing things such as flickering lights, cold spots and scratching in the walls but…” Manny pauses. “He hasn’t”

Matthew nods slowly, his eyebrows furrowing. “Huh. Fascinating.”

Joey’s head perks up. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I’ve managed to identify pretty much everyone who’s ever lived in that house--”

“Matthew, sweetie, that’s really creepy.”

He gives Manny a long, hard stare. “...And I’ve found out that not everyone who’s lived there died. I mean, I think I know who’s haunting the place, Charles Franklin, an old man who died in his sleep there. But I don’t understand why he’s murdering only a select amount of people. Hell, I don’t even know why he’s murdering at all.”

“So our ghost only likes to murder the people he feels like murdering?” Joey asks. “Hmm, something’s not right here.”

Matthew shrugs. “I can look into it more. Though the problem is that he wasn’t buried, he was cremated, so something is tying him to his house. And I don’t recommend burning the place. We do not want to police on our backs because of arson, got it?”

“Well, I mean, “ the faintest of smiles creep onto Manny’s face. “I’m probably wanted for multiple cases of grave desecration, so, like, don’t know how long I can go before something or someone ends up in flames.”

“Noted.” Some more thinking, Matthew glancing back at his notes. “Anything else I should know?”

Joey chews the inside of his gum. “Um, that the victim was apparently gay? Don’t know if that has anything to do with it but his brother thinks it’s a hate crime.”

“I’ll take that into consideration.”

And so the three make arrangements. Matthew will stay here and continue his research while Joey and Manny go into the house at midnight, not to get involved or anything, more like a recon mission. So they rest, knowing the long night ahead of them. His biggest worry is Leonardo staying over at night and getting caught up in this mess, but hopefully, he would have returned home by now.

But Joey remains distracted. He’s so curious about what happened between Manny and Nikita, the only thing holding him back from asking is wanting to respect his friend’s boundaries. He’ll tell him if he wants to when he’s ready. There’s just so much happening right now. The entire world is at stake and most of the pressure falls onto them. They are the mortals that must carry the rest of humanity. The stress, anxiety, grief, Joey would be lying if he said it wasn’t getting to his head too. He wants to be there for his team, for his friends.

So he’ll back off, give him space. It’s the least he can do.

He’s already let down one of his new friends.

He’s so sorry.

Chapter Text

Matthew immediately sprang into action, barely giving Manny and Joey a goodbye, taking a can of Coke (it just isn’t the same. He misses Diet Coke), a pad of notes, a pen, floppy disks he totally didn’t steal from Safiya and raced outside to the nearest library. Matthew has discovered that true pain is not having a laptop with you at all times, so he’s limited to slow computers and thick textbooks. So many textbooks. Not to mention it is incredibly difficult to get his hands on any secret folders or files unless he contacts the SAE or Safiya, and if they don’t have what he needs on hand right away, then it could take days to finally receive anything at all. Not that he doesn’t appreciate the help. They’re doing the best they can.

It’s getting late at night, so he breaks multiple laws and sneaks into the nearest university  (it was an hour away and his legs currently hate him. Good thing he left straight away) pretending to be a student or something, stealthily searching the halls and peering into windows until he found a room with a computer in it. He picks the lock, silently thanking Manny for all those lock picking lessons and slips inside, drawing down the blinds over the window and taking a seat at the desk before the massive computer before him. 

He can see his face reflected in the black screen, a pair of tired brown eyes staring right back at him. It’s scary to view just how much he’s changed over the years, how much older he somehow seems. Sighing, he runs a hand through his hair, shoulders slumping. He’s tired right now, but he always is, so it mustn't be that that’s causing this rather strange feeling he can’t quite name. Maybe he’s just stressed out from the case, or maybe he’s just looking for excuses, trying to convince himself that he’s just not okay. That ‘nightmare’, or whatever the hell it was, has seriously screwed him over. And now, he just doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

He inserts one of the floppy disks he ‘borrowed’ and inserts it into the computer, switching on the computer then monitor itself. Green text appears at the bottom of the screen, Matthew typing in a series of commands that he’s memorised. 

Things get worse before they get better, he recalls Jason telling him. But where is rock bottom exactly? How deep does he have to dive? If he was being honest with himself - which he rarely isn’t - he’s more terrified than he has ever been. He’s not alone anymore, and that’s just the thing. He’s always just been ‘me, myself and I’ through his internal battles, however now standing beside him on the frontlines are all his newfound friends and it’s horrifying. And the most frustrating thing about it is why? Why is so afraid?

Irrational. He’s just being irrational. All his friends want to do his help him and he has no right to question their motive, because how dare he assume that they’re only going to hurt him? Maybe it’s the other way around. Maybe he’s going to hurt them.

Another sigh escapes past his lips. Time to stop that train of thought. Instead, he focuses his attention on the task at hand, taking in information and creating notes on each of the victims. There have been quite a few deaths within the house’s walls, including two girls who moved in together, a young woman seeking a new life, another man trying to escape his old neighbourhood, you name it. But, get this, there have been other inhabitants of the house that haven’t died. They haven’t even witnessed any spiritual activity. No cold spots. No scratching in the walls. No flickering lights. Nothing that indicates that Charles Franklin was still haunting the place. At first, Matthew thought it was the timing, that Mr Franklin only attacked seasonally. But there was no pattern, no significant event that suggested that was the case. Then it must be the victims, but a whole hour of searching and Matthew has found nothing.

But there has to be something, he reasons with himself. There must be something about the victims that links them all together, that makes them a target of Mr Franklin. He decides to take a break from the computer, lean back, and examine his notes that he wrote down on a wad of paper. He rereads every note he’s listed, going over it multiple times in an attempt to fill in the blanks in his mind. At first, nothing adds up, as expected. He’s learnt that nothing really aligns until you dive deep into these cases. Maybe these victims have something in common with Mr Franklin himself, that could be something as well. It may not be personal since, well, he was kind of dead when some of these victims were born, but some kind of quality of trait. 

He goes over the notes on Charles Franklin, faintly recalling the information that Manny and Joey gathered while roleplaying as FBI agents. 

It might have been a hate crime. That’s what Leonardo said. But what is there to hate?

Matthew gasps.

Oh.

He sits upright in his chair suddenly, pushing a hand through his brunette locks. 

Huh.

But then his mind wonders about Mannya and Joey…

OH. OH NO.

He practically jumps out of his seat and tears out the floppy disk from the computer, flicking everything off and cleaning up any evidence that he’s been here as hastily as possible, peering down the now dark hallways for any sign of human activity before slipping out from inside the room. He half speed-walks half tip-toes down the hallway, cursing at himself for losing complete track of time. By now it must be at least around eleven in the afternoon he estimates, glancing out a window, giving him roughly two hours to get to Joey and Manny before things turn south. 

A single second before he turns a corner, the sound of jingling keys echoes does the hallway, Matthew flinching back and pressing his back up against the wall. He waits a second, listening to the sound of their footsteps get further and further away until all is silent again. He exhales shakily, gasping for oxygen, not realising that had been holding his breath for the entire time. Peering down the hall for any more trouble, he slowly begins to regain his original pace, making down and turning another corner. He’s lucky that this university isn’t necessarily up to code, seemingly not on the whole surveillance camera train hype just yet. Or, well, he hopes that’s the case. Getting arrested is not the ideal situation to be in. 

He manages to sneak his way back outside without being caught with no more interruptions, bursting into a full-on sprint as soon as he jumps the fence (which he has to get better at. It is a painfully difficult thing to do) back the way he came. 

Great. Now he has to be the one saving Joey and Manny, two idiots, before they seriously injure themselves.

✞✟✞✟✞✟✞✟✞

When midnight strikes, so do our hunters, Manny and Joey both parking a block away from the haunted house. If they make a ruckus (to which they most certainly will) they don’t want anyone seeing their number plate. They already have monsters and demons on their tails, they don’t need the police as well. 

They creep along the walls, not too stealthily because that’s a huge giveaway that they’re up to something, but just enough to blend in, look like regular folk out late at night, the sorts. Eventually, they reach the house, old yet still kept in good condition despite all the horrors that have taken place inside its walls. It might be the spirit keeping things tidy since they tend to be extremely territorial like wild animals protecting their borders. If anything approaches them, they’re immediately regarded as a threat. An invader who wants to take everything they have left of them. 

Which is true, in a sense. It’s a hunter's job to take away the thing that is binding them to this plane of living. But it’s necessary. They have to move on or be driven completely insane, or perhaps they’ve already past their breaking point and are now slaughtering people left and right. That’s certainly what good ol’ Charles Franklin is doing. Albeit he isn’t killing everyone (strangely) but murder is murder. There’s hardly any excuse for taking someone’s life in cold blood. 

They arrive, backs pressed up against the walls of the house and glancing both directions in search of witnesses. None. They did down inside the front yard yet avoiding the front door, moving towards an iron gate tucked away in the corner of the property’s boundaries, crawling over and landing on concrete with a soft click of heels against pavement. They continue around the house, eyes peeled for danger, stopping at the backyard door. Manny kneels down to one knee, taking a small kit from one of his pockets and retrieving a tiny lockpick. He immediately goes to work on the screen door while Joey covers him, surveying the surrounding area before he hears a small cheer of joy from behind. Glancing over his shoulder, he finds his fellow hunter gingerly pushing the door open, both flinching as it alerts any inhabitants with a long ‘creeeeeeeak’. They slip inside and duck behind an old couch, it being too dark inside to identify its colour. And for that very long moment they don’t breathe, don’t dare to move a single muscle even a millimetre. They’re inside enemy territory now. It’s now gather information, find whatever is binding Charles Franklin and get the hell out. Simple.

Except this house has a basement, as proven by the slightly left ajar door revealing a staircase that leads deep into the earth located on the other side of this room. Hooray. Just what they needed. Manny remembers the last time he had to be the one to search around in the basement. He swore from then on that he will never use rock paper scissors to decide who gets basement time ever again.

They both toss each other a nervous glance, one that indicates that Joey is just as reluctant to go anywhere near the stairway as he is. The majority of him - no, scrap that - all of him would rather face multiple ghosts on the ground floor of the house instead of a singular spirit in a basement or attic. So he gives a sharp glare at Joey, who shoots him one just as icy right back. They stay like that for a good minute, maybe two, before they realise they have very limited time and sigh simultaneously. 

“Okay, “ Joey says in a hushed voice, no louder than a single decibel. “We both go down at the basement at the same time, deal?”

Manny eyes Joey for any signs of dishonesty (Nikita’s done that once. Bitch). He finds none. “Deal.”

Though they silently agree that they check the basement last. You know, warm up and stuff. Get the blood pumping first. Manny peaks around the corner of the couch, Joey imitation his actions only on the opposite side, checking if the coast was clear. They both pull back and give each other a small nod, slowly crawling out from their hiding spot, keeping low as they make their way towards the dining room with flashlights in hand, drawn from the insides of their pockets. It’s been mostly cleared out by Leonardo, only a few knick-knacks here and there needing to be removed. The spaciness causes a knot of unease to twist in Manny’s gut, quickly feeling the walls for any hide-y holes that could possibly be shielding any secrets from the hunters. Finding none, he simply signals out to Joey and exits into the kitchen, giving it a thorough search, before moving on. 

Room after room they found absolutely nothing. Not a single clue as to how they are supposed to defeat their foe. It’s almost like this spirit is intentionally leading them towards that damn basement. Or, perhaps, it’s most certainly is. If Charles Franklin could lock them up in a basement all night, well, he’d have the upper hand on the hunters. They’d be completely trapped, cornered, unable to call out for help. They’d have to hope on Matthew to sense something is amiss is things begin to turn south, but that would be wishful thinking. It’s all been leading up to this moment, hasn’t it? Spending some quality time with your friend in a dark, musty basement? Well, it’s best to get this over and done with. No use standing around and sulking about it. 

The hunters stand in front of the entrance, Manny gingerly prying open the door with two fingers, wincing even when the slightest creak of wood hits their ears. He looks over at Joey with a fake polite smile plastered on his face. “After you, ma'am.”

Joey rolls his eyes. “What a gentleman.” 

He takes a single step in, breathing deeply, in and out, in and out, before pressing onwards. Manny follows in suit, keeping his eyes behind him for any indication of spiritual activity. As they go down with their flashlights darting across the walls, wallpaper starting to peel and rot. There are a few cobwebs in the corners of the ceiling and in between the planks on the floor, dust collecting in every crevice. Guess Leonardo didn’t hang out in the basement too often, not that Manny blames the guy. He would never think about buying a house that has a creepy-ass basement that’s probably home to a spirit or two as well. Poor Casper must have been in some really rocky financial issues for him to end up in a place like this.

They reach the end of the stairs, Manny recoiling at the thick, musty odour of the basement. He can feel the dust clogging up his airways with every inhales, almost choking as soon as he arrived. But he swallows it down, takes a minute to adjust before soldiering on. Empty shelves line every inch of the place, boxes filled to the brim lying around on the floor waiting to be taken away. The floor is solid concrete with a few cracks here and there, also a few odd stains from whatever, probably water leaking through the pipes built above the roof. 

“See anything?” Joey asks quietly, running a hand against one of the shelves and collecting dust on his fingertips. 

Manny simply shakes his head. “Nope. Bitch is hiding from us.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then, “Hey, Manny, while we’re waiting for this guy to show up I uh, I want to talk to you about something…”

“Hmm?-” 

There’s a chill that courses through the basement, running down their spines and sending a violent shiver that echoes throughout their muscles. Joey’s question is immediately forgotten, mind focused on the danger at hand, reflexively drawing out the shotgun that’s slung over his back. He cocks it, Joey doing the same, standing back to back while their flashlights flicker uncontrollably casting distorted shadows in the darkness.  

Ah, basement hunts. Gotta love ‘em.

The bulbs of their flashlights simultaneously burst, and the room becomes deathly silent. Still. Both hunters not daring to even breathe. Manny searches for any signs of danger but all he is met with is darkness. 

But with a sharp chill that courses through the air, both hunters are flung backwards, Joey flying into a shelf while Manny slams into the wall. He crumples to the floor cringing, white, hot pain flaring up all over his backside. He wrenches his eyes open, gaze landing on the silhouette of a man looming over him, a hand outstretched and reaching towards him. Manny’s raises his arm, pointing his gun at what he assumes to be the silhouette’s face, ready to pull back the trigger. 

But apparently, it’s unneeded, because an iron rod rips through the spirit’s form, the silhouette now dissipating with a distant scream. And at first, Manny assumes it was Joey who saved him, moments away from thanking him, but instead is pleasantly surprised with the sound another familiar voice.

“Thought you might need a hand.” He holds out his own hand and Manny takes it, the other hunter lifting him to his feet while gesturing to the iron rod in his left hand. “Knew this thing would come in handy.”

“Okay Matthew, love you and all and thanks for saving my ass, but, “ Manny looks him over. “What the hell are you doing here? It’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous? Oh, couldn’t tell, “ Matthew replies with very obvious sarcasm. “Did a little digging and solved this case. Thought you’d like to know, but if you don’t want all the answers that’s fine--”

“Bitch you’ve solved the case?”

Matthew shrugs. “I mean it’s not a big deal or anything--”

“Is that Matthew?”

Manny sighs, turning to Joey who is still on the floor in the midst of a heap of rubbish. “Yes Joey, Matthew’s here.” He returns his attention back to the hunter before him. “Now spill. Quickly. Before our new friend here decides to come back.”

Joey climbs to his feet and joins in on the little brief Matthew gives the other two, rubbing his shoulder and hissing in pain when his fingers brush a certain area. 

“So basically, “ Matthew begins. “Leonardo is right. This is pretty much a hate crime.”

Manny raises an eyebrow. “Bitch, care to elaborate?”

“The victims are all LGBTQ+. Charles Franklin was an openly extremely homophobic man but--.”

“So wait, “ Joey interrupts. “He’s attacking us because we’re… gay?”

Matthew squints at him. “Am I speaking another language?”

Joey opens his mouth to reply, but whatever he was about to say was reduced to that of a squeak when an old saucer comes flying directly aimed at his face, the hunter barely able to duck out of the way, watching the saucer smash into tiny pieces against the basement walls.

The trio turn their heads, synchronised and all, directly at the vengeful spirit Charles Franklin himself. Manny’s eyes have adjusted, so he can now make out the deep scowl etched onto his pale face that is blatantly directed at his and Joey’s gay asses. 

Matthew equips himself with his own firearm while clinging to the iron rod with his left hand. Joey doesn’t hesitate to aim at Mr Franklin, eyes locked on him, waiting to strike the second he even thinks about moving a single inch. Manny decides that he can’t let them have all the fun and aims at him as well, the three of them standing as a unified front against the spirit.

Mr Franklin flicks his hand to the right, an invisible force dragging an entire shelf down on them, Manny shooting rock salt at the spectre but he manages to dodge, teleporting away. He curses and dives forward, avoiding the shelf and yanking Matthew forward so that he isn’t wedged between that and the floor. 

A hand clasps the back of Matthew’s collar, dragging him back, tripping over the fallen shelf and landing against a wall trapped by the looming figure of Mr Franklin. The vengeful spirit leans down and inspects him with an untrustful look in his eye, Matthew’s heart pounding against his ribcage before the spirit scoffs at him and flicks his wrist once more. The hunter is sent sideways before he could act, his iron rod slipping from his fingers. Mr Franklin proceeds to stare down Joey and Manny with that same hateful expression, holding out an open hand before closing it, multiple items stacked on the last remaining shelves launching themselves at the two as fast as bullets. They’re pelted with numerous dishes, photo frames, boxes and other trinkets kept stored down here that have yet to be packed away. 

“Charles Franklin!”

And, much to Manny’s surprise, the onslaught of China wear comes to a halt. He removes his arms away from his head to catch a glimpse at the source of the voice, Matthew, with the spirit’s attention now fixated on him almost complete defenceless on the ground. What the hell was he thinking?

Yet he continues. “You don’t have to do this. I know who you are, what you’ve gone through, but you don’t have to live your life in fear anymore.”

Manny couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Was Matthew actually trying to sympathise with this ghost? With this murderer?

Mr Franklin takes a single step forward, Manny instinctively raising his handgun to fire, but a sharp look received from Matthew causes him to pause. Fine. Have it your way. He backs away, sighing in defeat. 

Matthew nods at him gratefully before returning to the threat creeping closer to him. “You didn’t know how to cope. Your parents or friends never tried to understand. You were all alone. So you did the only thing you knew made you feel better; taking out your anger on others.”

The spirit clenches his fist in anger, taking another step forward with Manny wonder where the hell Matthew is going with this. What was he even talking about?

“But it’s okay. You don’t have to live in fear anymore!” Matthew continues, growing continuously nervous the closer Mr Franklin gets. “I-It’s… It’s okay to be gay!”

It was as if time stopped moving. Manny and Joey both exchange the same bewildered look towards each other. What?

Even Mr Franklin himself is shocked by his words, coming to a standstill, jaw dropping ever so slightly. 

And so Matthew only keeps going. “You were gay but many around you were homophobic and that led to internalised homophobia. You… You hated gay people because you hated yourself.”

Manny just stands there, dumbfounded and almost amused. The homophobic ghost was, indeed, homosexual himself. Oh, the irony. 

Mr Franklin stares down at his own hands in disbelief, a distant, sad look on his face. He looks so tired and lost. He takes a deep breath (which Manny finds funny - ghosts don’t need to breathe), slowly lifting his gaze to look at the two other hunters over his shoulder. He has a confused look in his eyes, one that almost appears to be seeking reassurance. So Manny just smiles and nods, elbowing Joey’s side as the other was just standing there like a complete, oblivious idiot, spurring him into a moment of realisation and doing the same while holding a thumbs up.

Tension held in the spirit’s shoulders evaporates, Mr Franklin looking over to Matthew for one last time, a solemn look of regret painted on his face. And for the first and final time, the trio hears him speak.

“That’s all I needed to hear, “Mr Franklin says softly. “Thank you.”

Closing his eyes, a faint shimmer radiates against his deathly pale skin, fading into nothing as his form disintegrates in brilliant light. They all have to shield their eyes, having already adjusted to the darkness with something so bright being downright painful to look at. A moment passes, and suddenly the light is gone, no evidence of the spirit remaining trapped within the veil. 

“Well then, “ Matthew breaks the silence with a nervous chuckle. “That was easy.  That could have gone very bad very quickly.”

Even though he can’t really even see Matthew through the darkness, Manny still squints his eyes at him, pointing at him accusingly. “How did you--” He pauses, pressing his lips into a thin line. “You know what? Never mind.”

“I am so sick of standing in the dark!” Joey screeches, tapping the head of his flashlight in a futile attempt to turn it on. “Can we please get out of the scary murder basement?”

“Oh yeah bitch, “ Manny agrees. “I’ve had enough basement time for one year.”

✞✟✞✟✞✟✞✟✞

The three clean up after themselves - or try to at least. Cleaning in the dark is not a pleasant experience - and rush out of the basement as fast as humanly possible, Joey’s back whining in protest though he couldn’t give a single damn about it. He was absolutely done with basements. He can face many monsters and even demons, but basements? Hell no. Who knows what freaky (probably also hella kinky) cult-like events take place down there? He certainly doesn’t want to know.

They come back out the way they came in, through the backyard and over the side gate, making their way down the street just pretending to be a normal group of misfits staying up late. Because what could be better than this? Three guys being dudes. 

“Wait, “ Joey comes to a stop, Manny and Matthew both giving him a confused look. “Matthew, did you walk all the way over here from that one university you said you were gonna break into?”

Matthew shrugs. “I didn’t walk… It was more like a jog, a very fast jog.”

“Jesus. I could never.”

Joey can firmly say that he hunts monsters. He cannot, however, say that he’s fit. There’s still a lot of work that needs to be done in that department. 

As they continue their little journey down the block, Joey intentionally slows down once more, tapping Manny on the shoulder to get his attention. When Matthew throws him another look, Joey simply gestures for him to continue walking to the car they drove down in that's just right around the corner. Manny shares that same confused look, but it also carries a concerned undertone. Maybe he’s been suspecting something like this for a while now.

Both standing in silence, Manny cocks an eyebrow. “So…?”

“I’m just going to be blunt with you, “ Joey sighs. “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” Manny inquires, folding his arms in a rather defensive manner. 

But Joey is determined to find out. “You know what I mean. You and Nikita?”

And with that said his expression immediately darkens. “Joey. Not right now.”

“But-”

“Joey.”

And Joey tries to say something to him, to reach out to him, but Manny pivots on his heels and marches away, not even sparing Joey a single glance as he disappears around the corner, leaving a muddled Joey behind alone in the cold. 

Okay. So maybe this was more serious than he thought.

Chapter Text

Roi can’t bring himself to close his eyes tonight. 

Joey, Manny and Matthew returned to the Divine Lounge about an hour ago and immediately crashed in their respective rooms. Roi doesn’t know if he was the only one that heard them because maybe the others are still awake, but he certainly doesn’t want to be the one to disturb them, so he doesn’t bother rolling out of bed to greet them. That, and he’s already safely tucked away in Teala’s arm, the other hunter snuggled up beside him in bed. 

He watches her breathe, the steady rise and fall of her chest, the content, peaceful look on her face. He doesn’t dare move a muscle in fear of waking her. She wiggles slightly towards him, burying her face into the crook of his neck, goosebumps rising on his skin being so close to her. A fuzzy warmth creeps down the back of his neck and travels all throughout his limbs, and now Roi swears that he’s having an out of body experience because holy shit he feels like he’s floating and in a good way. No more heaviness. Just her. Here with him right now at this very moment in time and space.

Teala smiles in her sleep, leaving Roi curious as to what she’s dreaming about. 

Subconsciously, he hopes she’s dreaming about him. 

A small sigh passes Roi’s lips, a sudden awareness of his - and everyone, really - current situation falling upon him like a sack of bricks. 

He can’t allow himself to fall for Teala Dunn. It’s far too dangerous, far too risky even for him, the daredevil of the group.

There’s the sound of a door closing, tearing Roi’s attention away from Teala to scan his room. His eyes have long adjusted to the darkness, gaze fixated on his door that hasn’t been moved an inch. Huh. It wasn’t his door then. Figured as much, since the sound was rather muted. Must have been the room next to him, Matthew’s room. Out of paranoia more than anything, he carefully slips out of bed, immediately missing the warmth of Teala cuddled up beside him. It must be his imagination or the dark, because Roi swears the slightest of frowns appears on her face as he left her side, Roi ignoring the feeling of guilt swelling in his gut and pushing onwards. He’s just going to investigate, that’s all. Then he will return back to Teala’s side instantly.

He creeps out of his room, opening the door painfully slow as to not wake Teala. He ducks out into the hallway and catches a glimpse of a silhouette entering the main chamber at the end of the hall. He tip-toes down, feeling the cold night air pierce his skin like one-thousand chilled needles. He’s underground, how the hell is it so cold down here? He supposes the Divine Lounge has to be well ventilated otherwise they’d die in their sleep from a lack of oxygen, so maybe he doesn’t mind that much now that he thinks about it. 

He peers around a corner looking onwards into the chamber that has the walls decked with bookshelves, a huge desk sitting in the middle with four computers on each side. The silhouette flicks on the lamp stationed near his computer, revealing the wearied face of Matthew setting a stack of files on the desk and sitting down, rifling through each one. He takes out a document and sets it in front of him, adjusting his glasses (oh God he looks like such a Dad with glasses) and skimming down the sheet. He takes a floppy disk, inserts it into the computer, and turns it on, eyes glued onto the screen with determination. 

What the hell is that man even doing? He should be sleeping, not doing more ‘detective’ work, especially at this hour. Especially since he just got back from a hunt. His body needs to recover, even Roi knows this. And he’s the smartest out of all of them. Pfft, yeah right. The man doesn’t know when to quit. 

Fine. He’ll just do it himself. “Oi, Matt.”

Matt lazily glances up at him from behind the screen. “Go back to sleep, Roi.”

“Huh, funny.” Roi pushes himself off the wall he’d been leaning on and makes his way over to the front of the desk, leaning on the chair directly opposite from Matthew. “I was just about to tell you the same thing.”

“I’m working, “ Matthew rebuttals as if that’s even a valid statement just sleep, Jesus Christ.

“You seriously have a problem.” He smirks a little to keep things light-hearted, but it would be impossible to miss the concern laced in Roi’s tone. “Listen, the case won’t disappear if you just slept for one night. Everything will be here in the morning.”

“Life won’t just pause while I’m sleeping.” A brief halt, then, “why aren’t you asleep?”

Roi shrugs. “Don’t know, but at least I tried to fall asleep, did you?”

“Yes, I actually did. It didn’t agree with me.”

Roi’s shoulders slump in defeat. “Come on man, just let me have this.”

“Nope, “ Matthew says popping the ‘p’, returning to his stack of papers beside him. And suddenly there’s a silence between them, the only sound being the flicking of paper as Matthew takes out another document. The silence is uncomfortable, Roi just standing there awkwardly watching his friend go to work. He knows, in the back of his mind, that he can’t win. It’s like he’s twelve-years-old and arguing with his parents again. You can’t win an argument against them, you just huff a sigh and give up or get sent to your room.

So he pulls out the chair he’s been leaning on and takes a seat, slouching as he folds his arms. 

Matthew doesn’t even bother looking at him. “Roi, go to sleep.” 

“I’m not sleeping unless you’re sleeping.” Even if that means he has to give up one night with Teala. 

Matthew seems to jump in his seat, leaning back as he pushes a hand through his ‘hair wall’. “Huh.”

“You’ll go to sleep?”

“What? No.” Matthew scans the sheet of paper before him, having that determined spark in his eyes whenever he’s onto something. “Roi, can you get a map of the surrounding area of Everlock for me please?”

“Sure, “ he agrees, confusion laced in his voice but obeying nonetheless. He knows that somewhere in this room they have a crate of spare maps they’ve printed for hunter stuff and all that jazz, so they’ve probably got a map of Everlock somewhere here too. It takes a hot moment to sort through everything once Roi has found said crate, unfolding and refolding a bunch of maps, some new, some gathering dust, but eventually he finds one that matches the description of what Matthew requested. 

He slides up to him with the map unfolded in his hands. “One map coming right up.”

Matthew thanks him, taking the map and sliding out of his seat making his way towards a corkboard. He takes a box full of thumbtacks from the nearby draw and carefully picks one up, pinning the map flat on the board. He takes a step back and observes the area, making his way back and forth between his spot on the desk and the board, sticking thumbtacks in various locations. Roi just stands back and allows the man to do his thing, not wanting to disrupt the flow or anything. He seems to be deep in thought. 

“There must be something these places all have in common, “ Matthew says to no one in particular, finishing his work. “They’re all within a certain proximity of Everlock, that has to mean something.”

Roi decides to take a crack at it himself, looking at the locations pinned on the map. “I’m guessing these are the places Snake Eyes and Noodle Arms has hit, right?”

Matthew nods. 

“Hold up a second then, “ and Roi’s searching through all of the files sprawled out on Matthew’s side of the desk. He makes a mental list of the names of all the specific locations the two lieutenants have hit, where they’ve murdered, and returns to the corkboard. Only four places so far, but that's four times too many. They’re not wishing for a fifth. 

The four places, in order; Buster’s Place, a small bar; Eagle Stone and Brick, the abandoned warehouse that held supplies for what Roi assumed to be hardware stores; Nisha Motel, a motel, duh, and most recently, Jenny’s, a popular cafe. 

Matthew continues to run his hand through his hair. “The snake woman and Benjamin seem to hit places at random, all in a certain radius of Everlock, but there has to be a pattern, right?”

And then it hits Roi like a sack of bricks. “Benjamin.” 

Matthew’s eyebrows furrow, a perplexed expression bare on his face. “What?”

“The places they’re hitting, “ Roi continues, walking up to the map with the names of each specific location in mind, “Buster’s Place - B. Eagle Stone and Brick - E. Nisha Motel - N. Then Jenny’s - J. That’s B E N and J.”

“They’re spelling out his name!” Matthew exclaims, a broad grin stretching across his features. “Roi you beautiful genius!” He bursts into a sprint, coming to a skidding halt and twisting around to say “I’m going to call the SAE to get ahold of any possible location they might hit. You. Bed.” Then he disappears around a corner. 

He wants to run after him because Goddammit it was him who thought of that so he should be helping as well. But then he remembers that Teala is all on her own, that he’s freezing cold and would rather spend the rest of the night with her, tucked away safely in a warm bed. So he drops his head and sighs, dragging his feet behind him as he slips back into his room and into bed. He does his best to not wake Teala, but she’s hogging the entire blanket for herself and has rolled onto his side of the mattress. He attempts to squeeze himself at the very edge and gingerly push Teala away, but his plan backfires as she rolls back on top of him, trapping his arm between her and the bed. Welp, that went well. 

He readjusts his position and tries to wiggle his arm free, though immediately stops upon hearing a low annoyed huff from Teala. Well, his arm isn’t too squished now. He’s managed to snake his arm in such a position that his blood flow hasn’t been completely cut off. Besides, Teala moves a ton in her sleep, so there’s a chance he’ll find an opportunity to free himself when it arises. For now, he’ll just close his eyes and try to sleep. If what he originally thought was true, that the two demons were spelling out Noodle Arms’ name, then that can significantly narrow down any possible locations they may resurface. There’s a lot of work to be done, so for now, he has to rest. 

Tomorrow may be a long day.